Chapter Eight

“How about this one?” Aunt Pam says. “It’s not pink.”

“No, it’s outer-space green,” I say.

The dress is iridescent, which means shiny. And yes, I like shiny, but this one looks like an alien ate something that didn’t agree with it.

I give Aunt Pam my “I can’t believe you expect me to wear this dress” face. It’s a face I’ve been making all day. Aunt Pam is getting exasperated. Mom is getting exasperated. The saleswoman is getting exasperated . . . . . . and we’ve been to six stores before we even got to her.

I, Amber Brown, am exasperated too. I am also disgruntled, peeved, and put out. I have nothing to wear. I don’t mean that I’m naked. But now that we are having the wedding, I must, must, MUST have THE dress!

It’s not going to be alien green.

It’s also not going to be pink. Not that there’s anything wrong with pink. I like pink. I have a pink knapsack. But I told Aunt Pam and Mom when this long day began that I don’t think the best child should look like cotton candy.

I’m not going to wear a little tuxedo suit either. That was Aunt Pam’s idea.

Aunt Pam is here because now that the wedding is big again, or at least medium big, she decided to fly in from California to help with the preparations. She used her frequent-flyer miles. Aunt Pam loves frequent-flyer miles as much as I love my Frequent Dumpling Card.

I, Amber Brown, think there should be Frequent Cards for everything.

Mom already has her dress. She got it two months ago when she was visiting Aunt Pam.

For her wedding with Dad, Mom wore a white satin dress with a long train. I don’t mean that it had a whistle and a caboose, just that it trailed along on the floor about ten feet behind her. Dad was in a tuxedo. The two of them looked a little like those couples you see on top of wedding cakes.

I know this because their wedding picture used to hang on their bedroom wall.

Now the picture is in my closet, next to the chewing gum ball.

The dress Mom’s going to wear to marry Max isn’t really that fancy. But it is really, really pretty. The only bad thing is that it’s a color Mom and Aunt Pam call “ochre.”

I, Amber Brown, know a lot about names of colors and ochre is the worst one I’ve ever heard. It’s sounds like that slimy green vegetable, okra. But it’s not. Mom’s dress is kind of caramel-colored. I think caramel is what they should call it.

I try on three more dresses and hate them all. They should have been labeled UGLY, UGLIER, and UGLIEST.

“Amber,” Aunt Pam says, “if you’re not careful, you’ll end up going to the wedding in a burlap sack.”

“It’ll be better than this.” I hand a turquoise monstrosity back to the clerk.

“That’s it,” Mom says. “It’s time to call it a day. We’ve got plenty of other things to worry about.”

The clerk looks relieved.

When we get to the car, Aunt Pam offers to drive. “You’ve got too much on your mind, Sarah.”

“Okay, but hurry. Max is coming over so we can finalize the guest list. The problem is, he has more cousins than Amber has mismatched socks. There’s no way we can invite all of them.”

I thought I liked lists, but this guest list is driving us all crazy. Max keeps trying to put people on. Mom keeps trying to take people off.

It’s a trying situation.

“We should make a set of Max’s cousins trading cards,” I say.

Aunt Pam laughs. “Good idea! Your mom and Max can trade cards back and forth until there’s a list they agree on. Oh, and we could save them to use as favors!”

Mom groans. “Favors! I forgot about favors. Remind me to put that on the THINGS WE HAVE TO DO FOR THIS DARN WEDDING list.”

I tell her that phrase is a sign of a bad attitude. I like saying this because she is always bothering me about my attitude.

Mom sighs. “You’re right. Please don’t tell Max I said it. I just forgot about the favors.”

“Okay, but I’m confused. Are we supposed to do favors for people, like walking their dogs or mowing their lawns? What does that have to do with the wedding?”

Aunt Pam laughs. “It’s fun to give a little gift to everybody who comes to the wedding, something to remember it by. That’s what people call a favor. I was thinking, Amber, that you and your friends could make the favors. They could have glitter.”

“Glitterific!”

Mom doesn’t even roll her eyes. She is looking a little cross-eyed. It’s not a good look for a bride.

We pull into the driveway.

Max is already there waiting for us. “What took you so long? Did you get a dress, Amber?”

“Don’t ask,” I say.

Max raises his eyebrows, but puts his hands over his mouth.

We go inside.

Max uncovers his mouth and says, “I’ve got good news. I think we’ve solved the music problem.”

I know music is a problem because Mom and Max have been complaining that every band and DJ they’ve checked out is too expensive.

“Really?” Mom sounds suspicious.

“Really! Herman and Rose offered to do the music as a wedding gift.”

“Who are Herman and Rose?” Aunt Pam and I ask together.

“A couple of my second cousins. I just love them. You will too.”

“I get the Herman and Rose card!” I whisper to Aunt Pam.

“They’re musicians,” Max says. “They perform at Renaissance fairs . . . . . you know, the ones with jousting and everything. They’re great!”

“Justin and me jousting . . . he’ll love it,” I say.

Aunt Pam scowls at me. “No jousting at the wedding!”

Mom is looking a little skeptical. “You’re not telling me that you want our guests to come to the wedding in costume, are you?”

“Of course not. Well, Herman and Rose will be in costume. I don’t think they own any normal clothes. But no one else has to dress that way.”

“It’s not very traditional,” Mom says.

“Are you kidding? The music is five hundred years old. It’s super-traditional! Besides, it will make our wedding unique . . . like us!”

“I don’t know.” Mom hesitates.

“At least meet them and hear their music. They invited us over tonight. They want to play for us.”

“Wagons ho!” Aunt Pam sings out. “We’re off to see Rose and Herman!”

“Field trip!” I shout.

Mom sighs. She can tell when she’s beat.