It's ... it's comforting somehow.No, that's not true, it's more than that, it's me. I've alwaysdone it. My mother dressed me as Tinkerbell for a schoo... playwhen I was four or five. I loved it, I just loved it. I dancedand twirled and skipped around in my short, pink chiffon dress,white tights, and white Maryjanes.My mom had curled my hair, made up my face and painted my nailssilver. I was totally in love with my nails. Of course, after Ihad gone on and on about how wonderful it was for a few. “I hope that maybe next weekend you can.”“And maybe make it the whole weekend?” she asks optimistically.“Is that wise?” he asks, taking a bite of his eggs. “I mean won’t your parents find it suspicious that you’re gone the entire weekend?”“They won’t care,” she answers, looking a little gloomy. “I mean, my dad would worry a little if I was on my own, but not my mother.”“What do you mean?” Mr. Thomas presses.“Well me and my dad have always been close, and I’ll be honest, the feelings I have for. More

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