Grace

Grace is a girl just coming into her own, hoping that a full makeover in Anchorage will create a whole new life for her in village.

A mother and daughter fussed over bags with pricy brand name labels.  They were both brunettes with streaks of blonde and vibrant red.  The girl strutted around in a hot pink sun dress with black lace.  “I dare them to call me a boy now!” she said triumphantly, spinning around.

Ami marveled at her perfectly feminine shape and glowing makeup, wondering how anyone could mistake her for a boy.  Then Ami caught her own reflection in one of the windows.  Her hair was pulled back tight, she didn’t even own makeup, and she wore a t-shirt and jeans.  She looked more like the biker boy than the pretty girl...

Grace and her mom were met by a lean dark man in EMT coveralls, who loaded their fancy bags into the back of the black F150.  Grace tried to do a little pirouette to show off her new look, and stumbled.  Her dad laughed out loud and hugged her, lifting her into the cab of the truck.  He lifted up one of her feet to get a good look at the strappy black high-heel.  “I don’t remember authorizing the acquisition of a deadly weapon.”