October 7

3:20 P.M.

Charlize waited patiently in the wings of the theater, her tight purple gown uncomfortably scratching her skin. It was the final rehearsal before the fashion show, and needless to say, she could not wait until she was done with this. The PTA volunteers rushed around the stage, making last-minute fixes to the girls' dresses.

While the other girls giggled and talked in animated tones, Charlize remained silent. She was probably the only girl there who felt ridiculous in her dress; while the other girls looked like supermodels, Charlize felt as if she was a toddler stuffed into an overly extravagant princess gown. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and quickly looked away. In her eyes, the dress just didn't work for her. It was gaudy, garish, and just a little bit too much for her conservative fashion sense.

"Charlize, honey, what are you wearing on your feet?" a PTA volunteer with golden hair asked as she scribbled furiously on a clipboard. With the flurry of activity, you would think this was the Golden Globes or something, rather than a high school fundraiser.

Charlize shifted her floor-length dress to reveal her worn out Converse. The PTA volunteer looked as if she was going to faint.

"Uh, sweetheart, that's just not going to work," she said. "Here, why don't you try this?" She pulled a pair of five-inch silver stilettos off a nearby shelf and handed them to Charlize.

Charlize gulped. If there was one thing she could not do, it was walk in tall heels. For some reason, she felt that this was not going to end well.