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at all, and the room was dimming and why wouldn’t the consul-
tant pull it off her she couldn’t breathe couldn’t breathe couldn’t
breathe—
And then, the invisible hand pulled away, and she was free.
The consultant was affixing the veil to the back of Amanda’s
hair, and nobody seemed to have noticed that Maggie had been
nearly suffocated by an inanimate object. She breathed in grate-
ful gulps of air, her eyes scanning the faces around her, but all
were fixated on the bride, their faces glowing, brightly painted
lips parted in vibrant smiles. Maggie cleared her throat again and
laid her hand on the back of her neck. She must have imagined it,
must really be getting sick; a fever and chest congestion, at least.
She hoped it wasn’t bronchitis.
The women on the couch were applauding, and Maggie
quickly joined in. Amanda was radiant, clearly thrilled to have
finally found the perfect dress. As the consultant led the blushing
bride-to-be back to the changing room, her mother trailing excit-
edly behind her, the bridesmaids on the couch burst into boister-
ous conversation.
“I can’t believe how perfect that dress is for her.”
“I know! I always told her to go with lace. It’s elegant. You
can never go wrong with lace.”
“Well, we all know how you feel about lace, Charlotte. Your
senior year formal dress was drowning in the stuff!”
A good-natured burst of laughter rang out around the room,
and then the bridal party decided to go browse through the veils
and bridal accessories. Maggie tagged along, chatting rather
awkwardly with the other bridesmaids, joining in half-heartedly
as they held up the jeweled tiaras and the sparkling earrings for
her to admire. As the girls darted about between the displays,
Maggie couldn’t help but feel somehow slower, almost sluggish.
Even more disconcertingly, Maggie noticed that all the motion
and sound was starting to give her a headache. Definitely coming
down with something. Dammit. She excused herself and headed

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