Fran walks us to her dressing room. She closes the door. It’s just the three of us.

Fran’s face is blank. It’s hard to tell what she’s thinking. I give Mary Ann a worried look, and she gives me the same look back.

“Girls, that was some switchup,” says Fran.

I try to swallow, but it feels like there is a wad of gum stuck in my throat. “Are you mad at us?” I ask Fran.

Sometimes, when you ask a question, waiting to hear the answer is even scarier than asking the question. This is one of those times. She makes a hmmm sound. Then she taps her foot.

I feel like her hmmm and her foot tap mean she wants an explanation, so I give her one. I explain how Mary Ann and I are best friends and how we do everything together. I explain how one of the things we wanted to do together was to be on her show.

I pause. Then I look at Mary Ann like I need her help.

She picks up where I left off.

She explains to Fran how her show is our favorite. “We have watched it every day together our whole lives,” Mary Ann tells Fran.

She keeps talking. “It has always been our dream to be on your show. Together.” She looks down at her feet and shrugs like what she’s about to say next might not make sense, but she hopes Fran understands. “When Mallory won the contest, we made a pinky swear that somehow, some way, we would figure out how to both be on your show.”

I look at Mary Ann. Then she looks at me like she’s not sure what else we can say.

“We didn’t mean to break the rules,” I say.

Mary Ann and I look at each other again. “We’re really sorry,” we say at the same time.

Fran looks from me to Mary Ann. She studies us for a moment like she’s trying to figure out a complicated problem.

It feels like forever before she says anything.

Finally, she does. “Apology accepted,” says Fran.

She puts one arm around me and the other one around Mary Ann. “In fashion, creativity is the name of the game. You two certainly found a creative solution to your problem, and the show went off without a hitch.”

Fran smiles. “I’m sure the two of you will make excellent fashion designers one day. Actresses too. That was an almost flawless performance.”

I scratch my head. Something doesn’t make sense to me. I can tell Mary Ann is confused too.

“If it was an almost flawless performance, how did you know we switched places?” I ask Fran.

Fran smiles. “You can fool some of the people some of the time. But never Fashion Fran.”

She looks at me. “When you turned, you waved with your right hand. Always a good indication that someone is a righty.”

Then she looks at Mary Ann. “When you waved, you did it with your left hand.” She pauses. “Sure sign of a lefty,” she says.

Mary Ann and I look at each other and shrug. We thought of almost everything, but we never thought of that.

“You caught us,” says Mary Ann.

Fran looks pleased with herself, like she’s a detective who just figured out a mystery. “Even though we’re best friends and a lot alike, we have one big difference. I’m right-handed and Mary Ann is left-handed,” I say to Fran.

Fran laughs. “Even best friends have their differences.”

Fran is right. Mary Ann and I might have our differences, but I know one thing we both feel the same way about is being sorry that we tried to fool Fashion Fran. We apologize again.

Fran holds up her hand like we can stop apologizing. “I don’t like being fooled,” says Fran. “But I understand the situation, and I applaud you both for finding such a creative solution. In show business, the bottom line is a good show. You girls put on a very good show.”

She gives us both a kiss on the cheek. “It will be our secret.”

I look at Mary Ann and she looks at me. We both put our hands on our cheeks at the same time.

I know Mary Ann and I have another thing in common now. Neither one of us is ever going to wash our cheeks again.

Ever!