Virginia Evelyn O'Connell

'Well isn't this just the bee's knees..'

Ginny could hardly stand to look, but found herself unable to turn her gaze away from her own reflection, '..It's like some kind of pink, floral...train wreck.' Her eyebrows scrunched together as she turned from side to side, desperately seeking a flattering angle (or at least a less unflattering angle) for her reflection. The ugly old gown that her grandmother had given her hung off her shallow curves like a pink death shroud, its faded, greyish rose pattern glaring out like hundreds of small, angry eyes.

Ginny's friends had offered to let her borrow some of their dresses--sequined things of beauty that came up right to the knee! And such lovely shades of blue that matched the color of her eyes and made her look..almost pretty. But this monstrosity was, perhaps, the only dress in the whole house (read "in the whole country") that met with her grandmother's approval--ankle-length, lacey, and terribly...terribly modest. And to top it all off, it clashed quite alarmingly with her ginger locks. Oh, but her hair was another story...

She raised a hand to her hair (feeling the scratchy material on the sleeves of her dress clawing at her skin as though warning her not to move too much). It was so long and....straight. So dull! But Grandma would not allow her to curl it or cut it off. In fact, Grandma considered it more than generous to allow Ginny out of the house without forcing her to tie her hair back or where a hat or something to that effect.

Ginny looked like some sort of ugly, abandoned doll in that awful dress with her awful hair. Her face was young (she was 18 but didn't quite look it), slightly freckled, and heart-shaped. She might have been pretty if she wasn't so scrawny..

A knock sounded at the door and the girl felt her heart sink deep into her stomach.

'He can't see me like this.'

Panicked, she made a break for her room. Sprinting through the kitchen and up the stairs, Ginny almost made it to her door when Grandma appeared before her suddenly. With surprising strength for a woman seemingly so frail, Grandma clothes-lined her grandaughter, pointed down at her accusingly and, as if reading her mind, snarled, "You will do no such thing."

Sprawled on the floor, Ginny looked up at her caregiver and started to weep, "..I-I can't. I simply can't. Not like...this." She sobbed quietly as her grandmother helped her up and straightened the dress (it had twisted slightly askew in Ginny's rush to hide). Grandma looked her straight in the eyes (eyes that were the very same shade of blue as her own), "You will go down there. You will open the door and introduce yourself. You will go out," and, as an after thought, "..and you won't be an old maid. I won't allow it."

She guided the young woman back down the stairs and parked her right in front of the front door, just as the doorbell rang again. Ginny looked up at her grandmother pleadingly, her eyes puffy and her complexion paler than usual. Her Grandma would have none of it, "I worked hard to set this up for you. You haven't a clue how lucky you are! Don't be ungrateful!"

With a nod, the old woman disappeared into the kitchen but remained just in sight to make sure that Ginny stayed put.

Ginny watched her go and, with a sigh, she quickly wiped her eyes. Gripping the door knob as if it was her only hope, she opened the door slowly and put on the most genuine smile she could muster under the circumstances.

Two figures stood in the doorway: a woman several years Ginny's senior, and a young man. They seemed a little bewildered by Ginny's appearance, hardly able to hide the look of puzzlement and disgust that briefly crossed each of their faces for a split second. The woman spoke first, "Ginny! Dear! You look--" Ginny stopped her chaperone mid-sentence with a knowing shake of her head, "Thank you, Mrs. Elliot." She then glanced over at the young man and gave a small curtsy, "..you must be John?" The young man nodded and, though he was returning her smile, Ginny could tell he was having second thoughts about their date that evening.

There was a moment of awkward silence before Ginny snatched up her clutch from the table in the foyer and joined the pair on the porch. She closed the door behind her and then turned back to John, "So..uhm...where to?" She smiled again, praying that the ugly dress' ugliness was less noticeable in the dim light (the sun was setting).

"Oh," John started, fumbling with the pockets of his jacket as if he'd forgotten a ticket or something, "Uh...there's a new club I've heard quite a lot about. I thought we could get dinner there.."

Ginny gestured to the car in which the two had arrived, "Well then, lead on."

'..just the bee's knees.'