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Pucker Up By Jena Corso Edited by Angela Meyers Chapter 1 The buzzer sounded, ending over-time at the small arena as the crowd of a few hundred fans cheered the effort of both teams. It had been a hard fought tournament just outside Minneapolis, Minnesota, where the nation's best pre-high school travel hockey players gave everything they had in the championship game against the Canadian champion from Montreal. Even after the overtime period the game was still deadlocked in a tie, as the predominately high schoolers skated over to their coaches for instructions. "Oh no!" screamed Kristen, grabbing her head nervously. "Is it a shootout? Please don't tell me that?" "Of course it is," said Brody, reaching over and rubbing his wife's back. "You've been to a million tournaments for the last two years. You know it is." "Yeah but he played with kids his age. Not this crazy team where is he playing with these big kids! I can't take the pressure," said Kristen, biting her nails as she stared down at the coach giving instructions to his player. "Please don't let him pick Paulie. He's only just twelve and it wouldn't be fair to put that much stress on him." "Mom, he's their leading scorer," said Bridget, snuggling in with her mother. "I'd put him in. Wouldn't you?" "Relax both of you," said Brody, wiping his palms. "He better pick him if he wants to win and keep our streak alive. My son is a winner, and he'll want to be one of the shooters. Who cares if he's the youngest kid on the team?" Ninety seconds felt like an eternity to the fans as the coach discussed strategy with the players. Paul Pietro had been selected for this elite travel team and had enjoyed success the whole year with the team. Having just turned only twelve, he was a good three years younger than most of the players, yet age was not a factor for him as his skill was unquestionable. "Oh my gawd," shivered his mother. "He's out there! The idiot picked my baby." "He's no idiot," said his father. "He wants to win and keep their streak alive!" Since Paul joined the team eighteen months earlier, the team had not lost a game and it appeared the coach was not inclined to lose one now. Even though he was clearly not as experienced in big games like this, he was still the team's leading scorer and best skater. As they lined up taking turns, he had been chosen to shoot third or last as each kid was announced and took their turn. As the shootout began, each shooter attempted to score, yet each was unsuccessful. All three shooters on the opposing team denied and both ahead of him on his team as well, as he skated to the center of the ice calm and collected. "Come on Paulie!" yelled his sister. "You got this buddy," screamed his father. "I can't watch," said his mother, peeking through her fingers. "I hate this! I hate this coach. He's just a baby! Look at him." "He looks so tiny," said his sister. "Come on Paul. You can do it." "Oh my gawd. Oh my gawwwkkk!" shrieked his mother as he began skating. "Aaaaahhhhhhhhh!" His mother's screams were intolerable as her son felt no pressure making some sharp quick moves from his forehand to backhand and then back to his forehand, stick handling. It was like everything was in slow motion as he got the goalie to commit to opening his legs as he took the fake and then snapping the puck right through the five hole for the victory. His family and the majority of the crowd screamed, jumping up and down as his team mobbed him as sirens flashed as they had won the championship. He felt amazed, being piled on by his teammates as his mother cried like a baby and then just like that the most stressful yet prestigious tournament was over as he had won the National Cup in only his first year. The team's families and coaches celebrated that Sunday night together as all their hard work had paid off, yet the hockey season had come to a close for spring. They finally got a much needed break from the rigors of travel and daily practice, as all this stress and expense was a lot on everyone. As they checked out of their hotel on Monday, it was still spring break for the kids being out of school a week already, and now it was time for the long drive as the second week of spring break belonged to his sister. For Paul, his main activity was travel hockey and for Bridget, it was pageantry. He hated the idea of sitting around all those women, but she was there for him rooting him on every minute and it wasn't like his mother would leave him home alone anyway. Each of their activities took them away from home a lot, yet they never really complained and neither did their parents supporting them in any way they could. Their father though had to get back to work as he meet them for activities on the weekends as most of the burden of being the taxi driver fell on Kristen. "I'll be there for the final, honey," said their father, hugging his daughter as he stepped out of the passenger seat of their mini-van, opening the rear sliding door at the airport. "I know you'll do great and I'll be there to see you win it!" "Thanks dad," said Bridget, hugging him back. "I can't wait." "Safe flight and see you Saturday," Kristen leaned back and kissed her husband. "Have a good week at work and text me when you land." "Will do, and congrats again Paulie," said his father, pulling off his baseball cap and messing his hair. "I guess this means this mop has to stay for a while." "Of course," Paul repled, brushing the mess from his eyes and tucking his long hair behind his ears, putting his hat back on. "We can't cut it until we lose. It's our good luck. It's our playoff beards." "Please don't remind me! As it is we'll need to stop for a strong detangler," Teased his mother, rolling her eyes. "You boys and these ridiculous superstitions. Now go before you miss your flight." "Oh crap," said their father checking his watch. "See ya on the weekend." "Ok, buckle up guys," said their mother, checking the mirrors to pull out. "It's a long trip south so let's get moving." It would take a few days for the 18 hour driving journey from Minnesota to Alabama, as they stopped to do a little sight-seeing to break up the monotonous drive. Kristen was cautious, staying at nice yet budget conscious hotels along the way, as these two events were costing them a small fortune. Like most parents, she'd give the shirt off her back for her children as they put everything into their kid's activities and happiness, but now the focus shifted from Paul to Bridget. A day at the zoo on Tuesday, another at a Museum on Wednesday and then finally they arrived in time for the welcome reception and kickoff dinner on Thursday. Even though she was a bit tired from all the travel, Bridget instantly got her second wind the moment they pulled up at the grand hotel and convention center. As they left the mini-van, the bell hop loaded their luggage on a cart and took hanger after hanger from the back of the mini-van's rod that had been installed across the entire back of the car like a closet rod. "Please be careful with those dresses," said Kristen, watching him take garment bag after garment bag and transfer them to hang on the luggage cart's hanger rod. "Of course ma'am," said the valet. "We've been instructed to the delicate nature of all the garments." "Thank you," said Kristen tipping him as they went in to check in. Between the initial southern hospitably and the extravagant lobby, both Bridget and Kristen were overwhelmed by the grandeur. This was the most prestigious pageant she had ever participated in, and just meeting the welcoming committee sent her right into full prim and proper mode as she couldn't wait to experience all that the pageant had to offer. "Oh mom! This is unbelievable," shivered Bridget with excitement after just having her name badge pasted to her shirt. "I'm embarrassed I wasn't even more dressed up just to check in." "Oh don't be silly," giggled her mother. "But this really is something. And trust me you'll be dolled up and dressed to the nines all weekend, so I wouldn't worry about it. Now let's get to our room and go have some dinner." They went up to their room now as Paul happily crashed out, watching tv as their mother answered the door for the bell hop. Bridget was already out of a quick shower and couldn't unpack fast enough, beyond excited to get downstairs to see everything. She was no different than any other teenage girl fussing with her hair and makeup as she changed outfits three times before deciding on her dress. "Change for dinner buddy, and then you can just hang in the room while your sister and I mingle," said their mother, tossing some slacks and a polo shirt on the bed. "Change?" sighed Paul already annoyed. "I hate getting dressed up." "I wore a stupid hockey jersey for a week for you," yelled his sister. "Now change and all you have to be is presentable anyway." He knew she was right as he changed and then down they went for dinner. It took fifteen minutes longer than it should have just to get to the restaurant, as his mother and sister couldn't stop hugging and kissing people on the way. It was a nice night getting reacquainted with a number of girls she liked and even sharing some small talk with a few rivals, as they socialized and shared stories. His mother was true to her word, bringing him back to the room after dinner as his sister stayed behind, attending the pre-pageant briefing. "Just don't leave this room while I'm gone, or answer the room for any reason!" Lectured Kristen. "Deal buddy. I'm trusting you!" "Where would I go with all these annoying girls here?" Joked Paul. "I'm twelve. I hate girls and all this stuff." "I know," said his mother kissing his forehead. "Love you, take a shower and don't wait up." Paul was just thrilled to not be involved as he showered and then kicked back, relaxing. It was great just not having to practice or travel while they left as he just laid back watching wrestling and then fell asleep on the bed. When they woke him Friday morning, Bridget was in her glory dying to participate in the weekends festivities as she could barely control her enthusiasm. "Get up brother! Mom said go brush your teeth and get dressed," said Bridget, pulling off the covers. "We're having breakfast and then I have to go to my check in. I can't be late and I never made you late." "I know," Paul wandered into the bathroom. After five minutes his sister was pounding on the door as he quickly brushed his teeth and took care of his morning business. "I'm coming," yelled Paul, flushing the bowl and washing his hands. "Come on, get ready honey," said his mother, tapping her watch the moment he exited. "Your clothes are on the bed." He was happy to put on the jeans, t-shirt and sneakers that his mother had ironed and then quickly they were out the door for breakfast. Why Bridget even bothered he didn't know, as she barely ate and then they headed down to the check in area. He sat in a big waiting area with his mother and sister as she filled out form after form. He was one of the only boys there as he just sat patiently playing games on his ipad while the women talked non-stop, cackling like hens as he did his best drowning out everything with his headphones in his ears. "Oh so lovely to see you again Kristen, and congratulations Bridget on making it to the pageant," said a woman with a headset on and a clipboard in her hand. "Good morning Lillian," said Kristen, softly shaking her hand. "This place is absolutely gorgeous. What a wonderful selection of a venue." "Isn't it?" said Lillian, very full of herself. "I've been dying to bring my pageant back here for years and at least finally now we have some contestants worthy of a place like this." "Oh.. yes. From the looks of the beautiful young ladies I've seen so far," said Kristen, hating the pompous nature of Lilian. "It seems you do." "I know," said Lillian, checking off some things on her chart. "So I'll need you to get to hair and makeup, Bridget. You're slotted for 10:15 just down the hall in the Salon G and then once you're back here you can change into your first dress at 11:30 for 12:15 runway and round one of judging. And you have a picture of your dress and have an idea of how you want your hair right?" "Yes of course. I'm very organized," said Bridget, showing off the dress on her phone. "I have everything outlined for each change." "Excellent," said Lillian, checking off some more boxes. "Then run along please." "Thank you Mrs. Linfield! I can't wait!" Yelped Bridget, grabbing her pocketbook before hugging her mother and scurrying down the hall. For the next hour, Kristen socialized with the other mothers while their daughters were getting made up and Paul just sat in the corner quietly playing video games with his ear buds in. Every now and then, one of girls would return and the women would fuss over them, building their confidence as they took turns changing into their first round pageant dresses. When finally Bridget returned made up to the nines, her mother was almost to tears seeing how beautiful she turned out. "Oh Bridget," sighed Kristen, trying to keep it together. "Don't you love it mom!" said Bridget, framing her face proudly with her hands and posing. "I told you the highlights would really sparkle once they put it up." "You were so right honey," replied her mother, inspecting every inch of her hair and face. "You almost look like you should be getting into your senior prom gown and not some pageant. The curls! The updo! You're so beautiful, and you look so damn mature. I almost feel sick." "Easy mom," giggled Bridget, loving it. "I'm only 14 and dad would freak just hearing you say that." "I know," said Kristen as they both cracked up. Kristen looked mature and glamorous beyond her years now, with sparkling fuchsia lips and blended violet eye shadows. Her mother was used to seeing her heavily made up during pageantry with big lashes and flawless skin, yet this time it seemed so much more dramatic. She had recently convinced her mother to allow her to add platinum highlights to her already dyed golden locks, yet now with her latest style she looked ready for the red carpet. The stylists had taken her long layered straight hair and rearranged it into a side parted sleek updo that quickly climbed into two layers of three inch pinwheel curls. It was a style that Kristen had found a picture in the latest teen vogue magazine, yet the result on Bridget was more than she was prepared to handle. Seeing it and loving it in the magazine was one thing, but now her daughter donning the look she had seen on a model was almost overwhelming, as she could see the confidence exuding from Bridget. "I'm gonna go change mom," said Bridget, grabbing her dress from the rack. "You may not have noticed but almost everyone is changed already." "Good idea," Kristen said as Bridget was right, as half the girls were now dressed and left the room. She took her little suit case with her shoes and hose and went into the dressing area to change. After a few minutes, out popped her head through the curtain, frustrated and looking over at her mother, "Mom. Mom.. please come over here," stuttered Bridget, poking only her head through the curtain. "Please hurry up." "Relax, you know I have more hose in the bag," said her mother. "You know I always do." "No it's not that," said Bridget, wiggling her fingers. "My tips aren't that sharp and I didn't rip anything, but something's wrong with my dress. It's not fitting." "What are you talking about? Your grandmother just finished that," replied her mother coming inside the dressing room. "Of course it'll fit. You haven't gained a pound in months." "It's not closing and it's too short," said Bridget, starting to get emotional. "It couldn't be my boobs! I've been dying for them to blossom a little, but they haven't. Oh my gaaawwwwddd mom! Something's wrong." "Stay clam, Bridget," said her mother, trying to close the zipper in the back. "Maybe you're bloated? But your period was two weeks ago. You shouldn't be." "And I didn't grow six inches!" screamed Bridget. "It won't close, and It's too short." "Ok, easy. Take it off," said Kristen, trying to stay calm. "Let me go get your other dress. Worst case you'll wear that first and I'll get another dress from the room. Remember we brought three extras in case you changed your mind anyway." "Ok," said Bridget, calming down as her mother ran out and got the other dress. "You must be kidding me, mom," shivered Bridget, trying on the next one. "This can't be happening." "I don't understand it," said Kristen, as again it was too short and wouldn't close. "Could your grandmother have made a mistake?" "Please don't say that, mom," cried Bridget, now in full panic mode. "I will freak out. I'll be eliminated if I don't get out there!" "Just sit here for a minute while I call her," said Kristen, darting out of the room. "I'll figure something out honey." Kristen hurried back to all her stuff and quickly dialed up her mother. "Mom, it's me," mumbled Kristen. "We've got a problem with Bridget's dresses. Nothing is fitting." "Oh dear, maybe she's carrying a little water weight," said Bridget's grandmother. "You know how hormonal they can be at her age. I know she doesn't want to because she's been dieting like a fiend, but make her use one of the Spanks or light weight body shapers we used with the sleek gowns last year. That should help." "Mom, you're not listening," yelled Kristen at her mother. "Don't you think I would have done that already?" "Well get through tonight dear, and if you want I'll tell your father that we'll need to change to an earlier flight. I don't mind coming earlier and letting out the dresses a little," said her mother nonchalantly. "You know we wouldn't miss the big Saturday night portion of the show, but you know how he hates all the prelim stuff." "Mom, maybe you are going senile on me. It's not even close to zipping up and how does that explain the dress being way too short," screamed Kristen, frustrated, muffling the phone with her hand so Bridget couldn't hear. "No alteration will fix this. Somehow you screwed up your measurements, and this is a custom only glitz pageant. Everything must be hand made to fit." "Of course I know that, Kristen! I slaved making all those dresses for my granddaughter!" said her mother, getting pissed. "No, maybe she had a growth spurt or something. Walter, bring me my glasses and those sheets with the measurements." "Now what are you two fighting about, Betty," said Walter, Kristen's father. "Here." "Oh mmyyy gaawwddd!" Shivered Betty. "Walter, go get us on the red eye. I'll need to sew all night and then you'll box my machine and everything else I'll need." "Mom, what is it?" Gulped Kristen. "Kristen, tell Bridget grandma is sorry and I'll make it right," said Betty, discombobulated. "You were right Kristen. Maybe I am going senile. I mixed up the patterns." "But you couldn't have?" said Kristen, confused. "You've only been making these dresses for Bridget this last month or so. These are only the latest things." "Yes but I've also been making the suits you wanted for Paul," said Betty, shuffling paper. "I can't believe I did it, but I must have switched them accidentally." "Are you saying you made dresses for your grandson, and suits for your granddaughter?" yelled Kristen, freaking out. "Well, the dresses... Yes but I haven't finished the suits yet," Gulped Betty, sick to her stomach. "Give me that you ding bat," Grumbled her father, ripping the phone from his wife. "Kristen, get through tonight and we'll be there early in the morning if I have to drive all night." "Ok, dad, but I'm not sure if we can," Cried Kristen, getting emotional. "She might be eliminated by then. The dresses have to be custom and one of a kind." "Pay off someone! I'll give you the money! Anything for my granddaughter! You know that!" said Walter, rambling. "Maybe buy one from someone that would have worn it tomorrow, and we'll have your mother make them another one at the crack of dawn. She's got tons of stuff here half done that I'll bring and I'm sure we can make something happen." "Dad, I don't know," said Kristen, almost sobbing. "Pull yourself together for my granddaughter, Kristen!" Scolded Walter. "I brought you up to be resourceful, so go figure out something until we get there." "Ok, ok," said Kristen, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose as she walked across the room towards Lillian. "You know the rules right?" said Lillian looking at her watch. "In twenty five minutes, Bridget needs to be on stage for procession one." "Of course,, but there's a small issue I'd like to discuss with you in private," said Kristen, pulling her aside. "Mrs. Pietro, again may I remind you of the rules," said Lillian, annoyed at being pulled aside. "You may not have realized how loud the sniveling, whining and bickering from your call sounded like in a confined space like this, but now the other two mothers left in the room were disgusted and myself too?" "You heard all that?" said Kristen, embarrassed. "I was that loud?" "We all heard your obnoxiously loud phone call," said Lillian, turning her back on her. "Now again must I remind you of the pageants rules." "No, I understand them, but I was hoping you could help me. Obviously you heard it was an honest mix up. My mother just used my son's measurements and not my daughters," said Kristen, almost pleading as she yanked at Lillian's arm to stop her from walking away. "I know you've got dresses back there on the rack that you could lend or rent to me. I don't care what they would cost. I just need anything so we can get through today." "You know those are not custom, and that would be a clear violation of the rules," said Lillian holding her chest in a huff. "I almost can't believe you'd asked me that Mrs. Pietro. I'm appalled." "Oh please Lillian! It's just for today, and you know damn well you'd do the same thing for your daughter if you needed to," said Kristen, getting angry. "Now drop the Mrs. Pietro bullshit, as you've know me for a fucking decade, and let's work out anything you want. You know how hard Bridget has worked just to be here, and she'd be devastated if she got eliminated on a technically." "You think I want to eliminate her and have an uneven field just like I have in the age group below her. You know what issues that causes don't you? The catwalk? The line ups! The judging?" said Lillian, getting in Kristen's face. "The little bitch that dropped out thirty minutes ago was the girl I was representing, and now I look like I can't control my own model in my own contest." "I'm sorry Lillian, but please don't drop Bridget," said Kristen grabbing her shoulder. "You must have some custom stuff back there that wouldn't violate any rules. Anything please?" Lillian again turned her back on Kristen and folded her arms with a huff. She took one step towards the door and then stopped dead in her tracks, seeing something out of the corner of her eye. Quickly her head turned, snapping like on a swivel and then she took a double take before turning back towards Kristen. "Wait a minute.... Is that your son over there that with the head phones on that hasn't even moved during all this?" said Lillian, changing the subject and flipping her long nail, pointing. "That little straggly looking thing is the so called hockey star everyone was talking about? How old is he?" "Well yes, but he's not straggly and he's only twelve," said Kristen a little insulted. "It's just they keep winning and the whole team can't cut their hair until they lose. They're going on two years without a loss. But what's the problem now? He's just playing his games and not bothering anyone. I saw a few other mothers with boys back here, and it's never been a problem before." "Marcy, can you come up here please, and stat," said Lillian, into her headset and walking towards Paul. "Kristen, come with me please." "Now what?" asked Kristen, rolling her eyes and following. "Hello there," said Lillian, tapping his shoulder, interrupting his game. "If you wouldn't mind standing for me, dear." "Ok?" said Paul, annoyed his game was interrupted. "What's up Lillian?" said Marcy, half out of breath as she sprinted from the hair and makeup room. "Well, seems we all have a major issue that I'm working on resolving," said Lillian, touching his long hair that spilled out of his little ski cap behind his ears. "You've got two hours until the younger girls go on. You think you could make this work?" "This meaning him?" said Marcy, surprised, looking him over. "Yes, we believe he's got an entire weekend's worth of custom dresses made to fit and we've got a slot to fill," said Lillian, lifting the long length atop his ski cap and twirling it like a bun holding it there. "You kidding me?" Marcy nodded. "That would be so much fun. I'd love the challenge." "Lillian, are you crazy?" asked Kristen, looking down at her son, unaware of what they were discussing. "That's my son." "No Kristen. That's your bargaining chip. I'm short in the Junior Teen group, and I'd rather not have the same problem with our Miss Teen level," Lillian annoyingly tapped Kristen's shoulder. "You did say you'd do anything to help your daughte,r right?" "But you can't put a boy in a girls contest, could you?" Kristen nervously asked her. "Kristen, luckily he's of appropriate age, and we don't discriminate by gender. At least we don't anymore. Last year we had to take the "must be a natural born female rule" out to comply with the national initiative to support GLBT causes, and match the global competition rules," Lillian stated. "We just require a dress code that obviously someone of the alternate gender normally wouldn't want to wear or even look to participate in an extravagant pageant such as ours." "I can't believe you'd stoop this low," chirped Kristen. "You want me to let you dress up my son just so you won't be embarrassed that your contestant dropped out on you." "Oh Kristen, please!" said Lillian, flipping her wrist. "I've won six of the last ten times in the Junior Teen category so it's not like I'd have any expectations. But of course I'd save face to my backers and sponsors. Look at it like I'd be maintaining my reputation and you won't be denying your daughter the opportunity she's dreamed of!" "I can't allow it," said Kristen, growing furious. "Are you fucking nuts!" "And I guess then I couldn't allow you access to my private dressing area," said Lillian, rolling her eyes and turning her back. "It's too bad, because I've got some lovely hand made things that just might fit Bridget?" "You fucking bitch," yelled Kristen, ready to choke her. "Mom, you ok?" said Paul, taking out his headphones seeing the emotion. "What's going on here?" "Nothing honey," said Kristen, rubbing his head. "Just an adult discussion as they are trying to screw over your sister." "On the contrary, honey," said Lillian with a grin. "Out of the goodness of my heart, I'm just proposing a solution to help her?" "Mom, I go everywhere for him!" yelled Bridget, scurrying over in a bathrobe. "I've been in shithole after shithole in the crappiest cites, never missing a game." "Bridget, do you realize what you're saying?" said Kristen. "I can't ask him to do something like this." "It's a few days playing dress up for him, mom!" said Bridget, trying to reason. "I've been his biggest cheerleader! The team mascot. Done fundraisers and collected money in parking lots in coffee cans. You even made me go on a movie date with the coach's nephew who looked like a fucking troll!" "It wasn't a date," said Kristen, rolling her eyes. "I told you it wasn't!" "Well he didn't know it wasn't a date, but I told you all this!" said Bridget, getting pissed. "Bad enough I had to sit there with his arm around my chair touching my hair, and I almost puked when he tried to kiss me." "Oh please, Bridget!" Scolded her mother. "You've met plenty of cute boys on these trips so let's not go there, ok? I'm not stupid and I've given you plenty of trust to go out a little. Your father would kill both of us if he knew about some of the times I've allowed you out!" "Yeah, out stuck in the middle of nowhere!" yelled Bridget, folding her arms. "Bored to shit doing next to nothing while supporting little Gretzky over there." "She's right mom," said Paul. "If you need my help with something, Bridget, why didn't you just ask?" "I'm asking now?" said Bridget, looking him in the eye and starting to tear up. "You might think I'm asking a lot but..?" "It's alright," said Paul, looking at he,r nodding. "What do you ladies need me to do? I was like a junior stage hand once, and I can do whatever you need me to do to help." "Well then what a wonderful sister you have there, don't you Bridget?" Smiled Lillian, looking at Kristen and then her watch. "So how about we see if the dress fits like you say it will, and then we can all move forward from there. Nineteen minutes until Bridget needs to be on stage or be eliminated!" "A dress?" questioned Paul. "Did she call me your..." "Come on now, we've got to hurry," said Bridget, yanking her brother towards the dressing room. "The clock is ticking, and I still have to find something that'll fit me." "What the hell, Bridget!" moaned Paul the moment he found himself inside the dressing room as his sister closed the curtain. "It's no big deal. Grandma messed up our sizes, and made all my dresses to fit you," said Bridget pulling off his t-shirt. "Once they make you up, no one will know it's you and I've seen you in your underwear like a hundred times wandering the house, so it's no time to be shy in front of me now!" "This really can't be happening!" gulped Paul, as his sister pulled off his shoes and ripped down his pants. "Yeah well that's exactly how I felt all morning when nothing fit," said Bridget, taking the dress from the hanger on the wall. "Now you had your moment scoring the winning goal. Please don't deny me my chance at mine." "Oh I hate you," squirmed Paul, standing now in only his briefs and white socks as his sister unzipped the dress and crouched down in front of him, opening it. "You know I wouldn't but this isn't what I thought you needed me for." "Now you love me and I love you for doing his for me! Now step in, my soon to be little sis and let's pray that grandma did get the sizes backwards like we think she did!" said Bridget, looking up at him and tapping him to lift up his leg. "That's not exactly what I'm praying for," Paul said as he stepped inside what looked like a huge mound of fluff as it was sprawled across the floor. He was quivering as his sister slid the dress up his chest and then gently slipped his arms inside the shoulder straps. It was hard to believe any of this could be happening he thought, as she straightened the fit and then hopped behind him, grasping the zipper on his lower back. "Oh thank you! Thank you," squealed Bridget, as he felt the zipper stop on his back before excitedly circling him, jumping for joy. "She did reverse our sizes. I can't believe it. Thank you! Thank you." "I can't pull this off." Paul was stunned looking down at himself encased in this immense floor length dress. "I'll fall on my ass just taking a step in this." "Stop being a baby," said his sister, finger brushing his hair from behind his ears and on to each shoulder. "Hold my hand and just be careful not to step on the dress. Take little steps and you'll be fine."