Summer Lee Clark and Spice Martin, both eleven, were at this moment enjoying a sleepover. The two were best friends.
And they both L-O-V-E-D anything sparkly, anything with lots of ruffles and just anything “girly” as Spice enjoyed saying.
Summer’s mother poked her head in the door and asked if everything was okay with the two since she hadn’t heard a laugh or giggle from the girls in some time.
“Great here, Mom,” Summer Lee laughed while she shook her drying, sparkly pink fingernails.
“Same for me, Mrs. Martin,” Spice said as a big yawn stretched her pretty face all out of shape.
Summer squeaked out an unladylike sound at the funny face her friend had flashed just briefly. Both girls agreed that even a big smile was bad because it could lead to deep wrinkles. The two went so far as to not purse their lips at all while sipping hot tea and they absolutely did not blow their tea to cool it.
Summer and Spice, mind you, have known each other for years. They each keep a journal of what to do and what not to do in the varied practices of “girl-ness.” These journals were thick and stuffed with girl-wise rules.
Oh, to be sure, they had differences in their ideals, their rules for a well-groomed and well-dressed modern girl. They even had rules on how to disagree, agreeably.
At this moment Spice had hanging on the clothesline a very dark green party dress. The hot sun and a brisk wind flapped and snapped the delicate ‘gown.’ It gave the girls much pleasure to call their horde of pretty dresses, gowns.
Why was the pretty dress on the clothesline?
Both girls decided that the color was a bit off, a bit too dark. They believed that time in the sun would fade it. Once sun-bleached they hoped it would be just perfect and to their liking.
“Summer, should we turn the dress? We want it to fade evenly.”
“Good idea. Let’s go.”
A few minutes later the girls rounded the corner of the country home. A tiny humming bird shot by on its way to the red feeding station. They paused and watched the birds for a time.
At the rose arbor, Summer threw out an arm, blocking Spice.
“Down, get down!”
“What’s going on?”
“Quiet! Look!” Summer pointed to the clothesline.
Two bears, one small, one large, batted and pulled at Spice’s pretty dress.
The girls ran lickety-split back inside the house, yelling for Summer’s mother. The three then watched from Summer’s bedroom window.
“Those are not bears!” Mrs. Martin breathed out in ragged voice.
“Bigfoot! I think they’re bigfoots!” Spice said. She wanted to tap on the window, but didn’t, to scare them away or get their attention. She didn’t know which.
The larger bigfoot snatched finally the green dress from the line. Both animals lumbered out of sight.
This shared experience kept these girls friends for life. It is worth saying that the girls started a new section in their journals, a section on bigfoot.
Years passed. Summer Lee Clark, as an adult, enjoyed hiking the forest at the end of her parent’s yard, watching for the two bigfoots she’d seen as a girl.
Spice Martin kept her friend, Summer, informed on the news of bigfoot, as it came to her from books, Internet and such. One bit of information she shared was a rumor that someone had sighted a female bigfoot, wearing around her neck some sort of green ruffled fabric. The green had faded to a dirty grey, just tinged with green.
It could have been Spice’s dress, they reasoned. They laughed long about the whole thing, but not too loud, for they still kept to their rules for modern girls; they fought wrinkles and enjoyed still--Pretty Dresses.
The End
