"Happy Birthday to you!

Happy Birthday to you!

Happy Birthday dear Leni!

Happy Birthday to you!"

The young blonde twiddled her thumbs as she stood before the strawberry cake. Her eyes had no anchor; they shifted from the '9' candle to Lori to her Mom holding Lucy, to Linky, who was to her right. All of their happy faces were staring at her, yet her own eyes served as a window to her own anxiety.

Her entire body was burning up, her cheeks were red, she felt like she would jump out of her skin, and her smile threatened to fly off her face. Generally, Leni wasn't one to appreciate being the center of attention. To her, it was weird for other people to direct all their focus at her, no matter the reason. Usually this happened in class, when the classmates she admired but rarely talked to turned their gazes at her. But family was different.

"Make your wish, Leni," Lynn Sr. said, extending his hand out towards the burning candle.

"Okay! I wish that Linky-"

"Don't say it out loud, honey. If you do, it may not come true. Just say it in your head and then, blow out the candle."

Leni pondered the question for several moments. And then, with an eccentric puff, blew out.

"Please come true."

"Cake time!" the young Lynn exclaimed.

"I thought you didn't like clothes," Leni said, while sitting at the couch.

"You're making it sound like I hate them," Lori replied, kneeling in front of the TV's DVD player, "That's literally not true. Once you get older, you'll start to understand that every girl needs to like clothes. It's the only way anyone's gonna like you," she then clenched her eyes and placed her hand over her heart, although more for dramatic effect.

She pushed 'play' and returned to the couch, plopping herself next to her little sister.

"Besides," Lori said, "I literally spent $30 of my allowance on this thing. I might as well watch it."

As she turned back to the TV screen, she felt a jolt across her wrist.

"Thank you, Lori," Leni said with a small grin, "It was, like, a great birthday present. Thank you, Lori."

"Sure."

The two sat there in silence. Lori held the remote and was tapping the fast forward button, chopping through the advertisements and copyright warnings. The oldest sister occasionally turned back to Leni, whose face was as blank as usual (progress wasn't an overnight thing). And then she thought about herself.

"Stupid Carol! All your dumb clothes and pink purses."

But for all she told herself she hated the girly girl game, deep down she was aware of a curiosity; one that melded her body to that cushion, beside the only person she knew with a greater fixation for fashion than that Carol.

"I'm only watching this for Leni! She loves this mindless stuff!"

And besides, Los Angels was over. Sure she 'forgot' to watch some episodes during the final season, but she made sure to catch that 'dumb, stupid' finale where Marcy and Josh's relationship only grew stronger. Great. She needed something new, especially with summer vacation just a few short weeks away. And what better way to end the school year than with the first season of Runway Master and her little sister. Right?

"My name is Tony Sykes," said a man on the screen with slicked black hair and thick plastic glasses, "and this is Runway Master."

The camera widened to reveal his setting: a large stage stocked with lights along with a long narrow ramp digging deep into the gallery. Skye's proudly stood at the runway's edge.

"Sixteen designers from tailor shops, boutiques, and retailers across the country will compete for the chance to have their creations sold in New York's finest clothing lines! The contestants will be divided into two teams and each week, they will create a line based on a given theme. Their lines will be judged by guest panelists—the biggest names in fashion! The losing team will vote have to nominate two people for elimination and I will personally cut their ribbons short," he said with a mischievous smile, "In the end, only one wil remain. That lucky designer will be named the Runway Master! Along with a $100,000 prize, the Runway Master will join the creative team at my New York store and become a big name in the fashion world!"

What followed was a long montage of all the contestants—their names, backstories, philosophies on fashion, and the measurements of their egos. The two sisters saw the camera whiz from a wannabe star that owns a corner shop in Los Angeles to a farmer whose only experience is sewing clothes for his own family.

"I make clothes because I want all my friends to be as beautiful as me!" a third contestant exclaimed. She was a fresh graduate from beauty school and she docked Paris-quality makeup and a devilish smirk.

"She's so nice. She must be a really good friend," Leni said plainly.

Lori, though, couldn't stop thinking of a certain girl that keeps ending up in the same class. Perhaps she wasn't exactly like that now, but she would literally be that way ten years from now. Those pupils on the digital screen screamed nothing but lies, her hairstyle was completely ridiculous (a bush with loops branching out and around), and that smile...ugh.

As the show progressed, Lori kept finding herself giving quick looks to her sister. For the most part, she appeared normal. She wasn't smiling and her eyes weren't sparkling, but they also didn't look lifeless not was that face a frown. It was just, the Leni look.

The first challenge involved everyone making a "true New York" outfit, whatever that meant. The greater part of the episode involved the production of each person's design, but as Lori soon noticed, not all the conversation was about fashion. Right off the bat, there were people talking strategy and relationships. No one appeared to have a crush on someone else (or at least not yet), but there were already arguments and vendettas that grabbed Lori's attention. In some ways, it reminded her of Los Angels, particularly the mean girls from that show. But on the grand stage of reality TV, these personalities became the highlight. And Lori couldn't get enough. Leni, though, appeared unmoved.

Lori still routinely checked in on her sister. She knew that Leni's body language wasn't always the window to her soul, but there were several moments where she became uncertain. Was Leni even enjoying this? Was there enough clothes going around? Could she even follow what was happening?

Soon enough, it came time to present the teams' lines. The stage was lit in the tackiest neon pink, white, and yellow millions of dollars could buy. At the end of the blessed runway were Sykes and four other people in sophisticated attire eagerly awaiting.

"Come on in!"

One by one, each of the contestants emerged from behind the curtain along with an attractive model (a well chiseled figure) wearing their creation. The contestant then described a variety of details—the "inspiration", the fabric, seams, colors, and texture. As expected for a theme as nebulous as "New York", there were a plethora of interpretations. Some envisioned street clothes (to empower the average Joe), others sought to emulate the works of the big names (many of whom were the judges), and still other strove to get their creations into a museum (by being "postmodern").

"You have got to be kidding me," Sykes said incredulously as he examined the work of one woman. It was a plain white dress with sequins on it. Unfortunately, there was a noticeable rip at the bottom and, dare it happen, some of the sequins were falling off like beads, "I wouldn't even give that to Sheila! You should be a freakin shredder instead of a designer!"

The camera cut to a closeup of the woman's face, whose professional stoicism was clearly struggling to stay afloat.

"Get out of my sight!" Sykes exclaimed.

Music played as the contestant trudged off the runway. It was that slow piano sound that Lori could have sworn to have heard earlier in that episode. The next image was the confessional cam, where the woman was wiping her tears eyes, lamenting her failure to please Tony Sykes.

"That was mean. She worked hard on that dress. I thought it was good," Leni said plainly, although her voice also carried out her concern in small packets.

Lori turned to see her sister, whose eyes were still glued to the screen. Was she even talking to her or was she vocalizing her thoughts? Either way, it wasn't every day that Leni spoke her mind.

"Just what I wanted."

"Oh Leni," she said, jokingly, "You don't get it."

Her sister continued staring at the screen with wide eyes.

"What do you, like, mean?"

"I mean that you can't just say everything is good. Sometimes, things are just bad and people need to learn," Lori replied, keeping contact with the disconnected girl, "You can't just say something is good just to be nice."

Her sister's position was unchanged.

"But she still worked really hard on it," she slowly said, "and, like, I could wear that to school because it's pretty."

"It had a rip! Do you really want to wear something that's literally falling apart?"

For a moment, the only noise in the room came from the TV—background music, sound effects, and dialogue. Lori saw her younger sister shrug even as her eyes remained glued to the screen.

"Still, she worked hard on it," she eventually said.

Lori sighed.

"You know, even if you do mean it, you have to have standards," Lori said, vision turning back to the screen. Sure enough, a more elegant white suit trotted down the runway, much to Sykes's delight. But once she looked back, she was surprised to see her sister's blank stare directed at her.

"Stan...dards," Leni said, confused.

"Of course," Lori thought as she sighed once more.

"Sometimes, you just gotta know when something is bad," she said as she pointed to the screen, "Just because people work hard and want it all to be good doesn't mean you have to like it. If you want to be a good designer, then you have to know that some clothes are horrible," her mind then started warping her from the room and bitterness morphed her voice, "Ripped, too big, too small, ugly, stuffy! Sure you can work hard to try to look good or be liked, but do you think Caro-Skyes will care?"

The oldest girl then saw a strand of hair fall out of place, swinging in front of her forehead. In a huff, she blew it.

"Lori," she heard Leni say, "you sound mad."

She slowly turned to see her younger sister who, at this point, looked nervous. Those soft eyes and unblemished cheeks immediately sedated her. How that face worked wonders. Lori grabbed the remote and hit the pause button and then allowed the plastic brick to fall into the cushion.

"I had a bad day at school," she said begrudgingly.

"What happened?"

For a moment, she felt almost relieved by the surprise. Here Leni was asking a follow-up question. She almost wanted to thank her for thinking of it, but then something else invaded her attention. Still seeing that annoying loose strand, Lori forcefully grabbed it and slid it back into place. Meanwhile, her sister remained frozen.

"You know that new dress Mom got me over the weekend?" Lori asked.

Leni nodded.

"Well when I went to school today wearing it," she then paused as her throat seared with a nasty, nauseous burn, "Carol. She came right up to me with her stupid face covered in stupid makeup and with her stupid fancy clothes and she literally called my dress a sewage-infested garbage bag."

No change. Lori was bothered by this. When Leni had the care to ask her what happened, she kinda thought that gripping sensation also came with an urge to emote.

"But it wasn't a garbage bag. It was a dress," was all she could say.

She wanted to sigh again, yet it came out more as an agitated groan than anything else. Maybe that would have gotten through to her sister. A signal, perhaps.

"It's a figure of speech," Lori explained, clearly annoyed, "she said it was ugly. And then literally, my whole day was ruined. No one wanted to sit with me at lunch," she then looked down at her normal clothes, which she had changed into shortly after coming home, "it's not fair. They had to put her in the same class as me instead of Emily! At least she would have stood up for me."

She then felt a hand touch her shoulder. She turned, and sure enough, it was Leni giving a small smile.

"It's okay, Lori," she said gently.

There it was. So why was it so demeaning?

Lori sighed defeatedly.

"Leni, things at school are gonna start getting harder," she said, gazing into her sister's eyes, "the girls you know are gonna change. They're gonna start paying more attention to stuff like clothes and purses, sometimes even boys. And some of them are gonna start getting mean to those that are easy to pick on."

Using one of her own hands, Lori placed it on top of her sister's.

"Leni," she said firmly, "I want you to start making friends. You gotta know how to talk to these girls so you have a leg up."

Sure enough, the girl did just that, securing her right foot on the cushion. She then proceeded to rub her leg as she curiously pondered how that would make her new friends. Lori pinched her nose's bridge.

"No, not literally," Lori said. Even she was astonished by how much she was using figurative language. Usually, she was so direct and clear to Leni. She tried to translate , but the words wouldn't come to her. It wasn't fair, she felt. It wasn't her fault that things were changing for her. Why couldn't girls like her keep pretending that boys were gross or not have to put on makeup every day? Why did everything—along with everyone—have to "grow up"? Defeated, the fingers holding her nose slid up, eventually involving the whole hand in a facepalm.

And of course there was her sister Leni. From what she heard from around the school, her parents, and (occasionally) from the source herself, Leni had been getting by from kindergarten through almost all of third grade (where she currently was). Her classmates were aware of her circumstances and (for the most part) had been at least civil to her. Barring a few minor incidents, no one has teased her for her tics and on the rare occasions she tried holding a conversation, most of them were polite enough to acknowledge her. From what Lori knew, no one hated her sister or grew the need to harm her.

Yet she has also never seen Leni come home with another kid her age. Lori had Emily and a few others. Luna, Luan, and Lynn each had at least one enthusiastic playmate. Even Lincoln had found a circle of friends at his preschool.

Leni, though, was by herself (unless she just wasn't telling anyone in the House). Sure she was into clothes (a good plus), but what good was that if she never willing to open up. Would her classmates maintain their stance of keeping to themselves? Would they still understand once they move on to fourth grade and beyond? Or would they start getting ideas? If she ever found out someone was picking on Leni...she'd rather not think about it.

Rather, she turned back to her little sister, who looked like she hasn't moved in all that time of contemplation. In a flicker, Lori also feared giving that innocent face bad advice. What if it made her as rotten as Carol? She sighed.

"Look," she finally said, "just promise me that you'll start talking to more kids in class."

A pause.

"But..., like, when I do I say 'hi'," Leni replied.

"Okay. And then what do you say after that?"

Silence. The audio kind. And a shrug.

"That's a problem. I mean, come on!" Lori said as she pointed at the frozen still frame, "you literally have no idea how many girls love clothes! That alone gives you something to talk about. You can make friends just from that!" she then turned back to her sister, who still observed with a blank face, "I mean, how nice would it be to have someone to talk to during lunch? How fun it would be to spend hours at someone else's house reading magazines, watch shows like this, and talking about clothes?"

Using her sister's arm as a guide, Leni turned her gaze back to the screen. The still it was paused on had an immaculate emerald dress being displayed.

"I like clothes."

"All I want is for you to be safe. Just please try to get friends because...you'll thank me some day," Lori said. She gave one last look at her sister, whose eyes were once more glued on the screen. She briefly wondered if she even paid attention to her plea. Perhaps, but for now, there was bonding to be done elsewhere. She grabbed the remote, pressed play, and was met by the cacophony of music and narration.

"Lori," she heard her sister say, "why do I, like, need standees?"

Lori, though, only kept her eyes on the TV, watching Sykes sing praises to the contestant's wonderful creation. She wasn't sure if that made her excited or just more jealous. And anyhow, she had lost the urge to keep going on with this matter.

"Nevermind."

Fourth grade arrived sure enough. Usually, the kids were all scrambled up into different classes, but for this year, the school was testing a new program of "community learning", where students were expected to develop interpersonal relationships beyond the confines of a single school year. Because of this, all of the classes in the school (barring the new kindergarteners) were the same as those from last year (the only thing switching is the teacher). So much for a fresh start.

The first few weeks flew by with little notice. Even with the same set of students, Leni started noticing more purses in the class. While they were limited to only a handful, these girls quickly won the attention of others that sought to be as "old" as they were. Some of the boys also started to change a little. While there were some that still cracked girl jokes and believed in cooties, others were starting to develop crushes. As Lori had saw for herself, Leni's class was starting to change now that they were hitting double digits. They may not all have been bothered, but many of them noticed at the very least.

One morning before class started, Leni sat at her desk, twiddling her thumbs. A lot of times, she thought about clothes—coloring them, wearing them, and making them (although her parents swore off getting a sewing machine until her next birthday). Regardless, she got excited with those images, even if she couldn't act upon them. But that's just how the routine went.

"Thanks. I got it from Lacy's yesterday. But don't even bother with it. They only had it in my size."

"Fine. I'll just ask my Mom to get me one that's even prettier!"

"Whatever. Either way, we're easily the most glamorous girls in this prison. Like seriously, don't they know that we have better things to do than be at school?"

Leni looked up from her desk and saw three girls in front of her, chatting away. They were bunched together as their own unit, ignorant of the ambivalent population surrounding them. While she didn't mind too much for what the others thought, all Leni could focus on was the new dress one of the girls was wearing. It was yellow and silky, going all the way down to her thighs. Her eyes were drawn to both its color and texture, a winning combination only a specialty store like Lacy's could provide.

"I like your dress," Leni said, her head directed at the pack. What she didn't expect was that on her first try, she gained their attention. Each of the girls shifted around to see the source of that voice. To them, they saw that one girl that never spoke up in class. They may not have remembered what her voice sounded like, but it was distinct enough so that they could at least recognize (if not be surprised) the few times it emerged.

"Well thanks," the girl wearing the dress said pompously, using the opportunity to show off her attire, "I'm glad we're not the only ones with a taste for true fashion."

And just like that, she and her friends went back to their comfortable circle. Leni only looked on from the outside, ignorant of the fact that she wasn't in it. All she could think about was that one opinion she gave and the approval it received. From her desk, she was at peace.

"Lori's gonna be so proud."

"Leni, Mr. Tyson has been giving me wonderful news about how you're speaking up more," Mrs. Boxer said warmly, sitting at a table beside her.

"There are girls that like clothes," Leni replied.

The teacher smiled.

"I am proud of you. And now that you're talking more with other kids, I think it's time we start learning about the rules of talking."

Leni sat there, staring at the table's wooden surface. In that moment, she was fixated to the pattern of beige and brown, how the two swirled into concentric ovals. To her, someone had to be really good at finger painting to get it from a boring white slate to something mystifying.

"Could you look me in the eyes, Leni?" a voice said. Sure enough, the fourth grader brought herself to attention, freezing herself in front of the the teacher with flash cards, "One rule of talking is to look the other person in the eye. If they are talking and you don't look at them, they'll think that you don't want to hear what they have to say and they won't want to talk to you. And when you are the one speaking, you want to look the other person in the eye so that they know that they are the one you are trying to talk to."

As she spoke, Mrs. Boxer took out a card with a picture of two boys having a conversation together. Using her older finger, she pointed to each of their eyes and their directions, each right on the other. It was an ideal conversation.

"When you talk to the other kids in your class, do they look you in the eye while you're speaking?" Mrs. Boxer asked.

Leni was eager to answer; her throat cleared and her mouth was prepared to open. But then she realized something. She thought about it, for real. And it hit her that she couldn't actually remember how those other girls reacted to her. Sure her body was directed to them at the moment, but she realized only now that she didn't bother to actually see the ones she was talking to. She might as well have been speaking to a wall which, while better than nothing, didn't help her all that much. Sheepishly, she shrugged.

"That's okay. If they do, then it certainly means they like what you have to say," she said as she flipped to yet another flash card depicting another scene, "If you are talking and you see that they are looking somewhere else or if they look bored, then you should ask them if they like what you're talking about. Sometimes, they could be interested and they may not be showing it, but other times they will not like it," she said as she tapped the drawing of a kid with glazed, tired eyes, "If that happens, then you can change the topic to something else that you two like."

She then placed the card down on the table.

"It's okay if you don't like what your friend is talking about either. It goes both ways. The most important thing is that you keep looking at the person if you're the one talking and pay attention to if they look bored or uninterested," she then placed the card back up, using her fingers to emphasize the various details of the 'bored' face, "And always remember to ask if they do look like this. Your friend will be glad that you care about how they feel."

Leni stared at her teacher, trying her best to remember each individual word she heard. It may not have always worked, but she was at least thankful that Mrs. Boxer spoke in a slow, pleasant tone that was easy to intake.

"Okay," she answered, "I like clothes and I think you're great, Mrs. Boxer."

Mrs. Boxer noticed a small grin popping up on her student's face. If what she heard wasn't enough, that little gesture made it certain that she would reciprocate it.

"Thank you, Leni," she said, even chuckling a little, "that is so thoughtful!"

With this growth (this metamorphosis) happening before her eyes, Mrs. Boxer was hopeful that Leni would soon befriend many. Once the girl learned to truly spread her wings, that task, she felt, would be easy.

New day. New year. New decade.

While not as spectacular as the splash ten years prior, the Louds were still excited to be ushered into a new age where anything was possible.

And of course there were coincidences. Given the size and chaos of the world, most people find it refreshing when things line up clearly. In some ways, things become easier. To some, they also create a sense of significance. It's a shame they don't come frequently.

That said, that didn't make them impossible.

On the last night of 2009, Rita was paralyzed by the familiar spasms. Lynn Sr. herded the seven kids into Vanzilla while offering his brittle hand to his overwhelmed wife. The rush to the hospital and the impending wait in the hallway were all too familiar to him and the older kids by this point, even with the prospect of twins.

The stakeout lasted well after sunset and into the night. It was on a date like this that the father was glad that the Royal Woods Hospital was divided into wings—childrrn's, adult's, clinic, stomach pumping. The last thing he wanted (he needed) was for a sketchy character to come within ten feet of his children. For now, he sat on the couch and watched both the New Year's Eve specials and the kids on the floor.

"I'm gonna stay up until midnight," Lori gloated as she knelt before the small TV.

"Nuh-uh! You are so gonna fall asleep," Lynn shot back, lying on her stomach.

"Yeah," Luna added, "Just because you're the oldest doesn't mean you'll be the only one still up!"

Lori, though, merely snickered.

"You babies don't know anything," the oldest said, "Every year, I see each and every one of you fall. Only I would know because I'm the only one of you that's actually seen the ball fall as it's happening. You've only seen clips of it the next morning."

Luan, who was sitting behind Luna, suddenly formed a sly grin on her face.

"Well let's hope no one balls asleep," she said. Most of the family chuckled (Lynn Sr. being by far the loudest), "Get it?"

"Good one, Luan!" Lynn Sr. exclaimed.

Leni sat behind the others, her back against the couch's cushion. To her immediate left was her dad's legs.

"Daddy," she said, tugging his pants. The motion quickly garnered his attention.

"Oh hi, Leni. What is it?" Lynn Sr. said gently.

"Um..." she moaned meekly, "I, like, don't get it. All she said was, like, about falling asleep."

Lynn Sr. smiled and extended his fatherly hand to brush his daughter's golden hair.

"Oh honey, it's a pun. Yeah she said she hoped she wouldn't fall asleep. But instead of using the word 'fall', she used the word 'ball'. As in, the ball that falls on New Years," he said, chuckling as he explained the joke, "don't you get it? It's funny."

What Lynn Sr. got next was a blast of manufactured laughter. He was astonished; Leni had exploded into a series of hacked, forced 'chuckles'.

"It's funny! Funny!" she said between breaths.

Lynn Sr., though, gave a small smile and ruffled his daughter's hair some more.

"Yeah," he said, "it is pretty funny if I say so myself."

For the next few hours, not much happened. One by one, the kids started falling asleep. Lynn Sr. cradled Lucy, who was out before nine. Soon enough, only the oldest two girls were still awake. Leni lied down on the couch, using her father's thigh as a pillow. She fidgeted a little, trying to nestle herself securely into his embrace. At one point, she looked up to see his eyes wide, his pupils racing, and his knee tightly gripped by his own hand. It was as if there were three different bubbles condensed into a tiny waiting room couch. Even in the darkness and limited blue light the TV screen provided, even she didn't need Mrs. Boxer to know about this.

"Daddy."

Lynn Sr. jumped up and snapped his head to the tired Leni.

"What is it, sweetie," he said weakly, as if his vocal cords were being snagged by twigs and branches.

"Is there, like, something wrong?" Leni asked slowly as she rested her head into his form, "you look scared."

Upon hearing this, the father forced his lips to curl into a U-shape, hoping that alone would be enough. He kept that face for a few seconds, but that stare, that stare Leni was known for giving, persisted like the hours that remained in the decade.

"I'm just a little nervous," he sad, placing his hand on Leni's cheek. Like a lot of the other gestures him and her mom gave, she warmly accepted it, "After all, twins are a big deal."

Leni's eyes darted up to her Dad's.

"I love you so much," he said, almost as a whisper.

For a moment, her eyes remained on that heavenly face, as if it were an anchor at the bottom of sea. At this point, Leni was too tired to smile, but those fuzzy feelings fizzled her body, giving her those wonderful flourishes. Then, she slowly shifted away to the floor. In the corner of her eye, she could see Lori's face turned towards her. But as her head started moving to adjust to the new position, she swore that sight were an illusion; Lori quickly jerked back to the screen, focusing on the televised festivities.

"Next up, a live performance by Mick Swagger!"

Soon enough, though, she drifted off as well. The last noises Leni heard of the 2000s was a distant stream of guitar, drums, and some British guy singing his heart out.

"Kids! Kids!"

Just like that, all seven of them shot up to meet their excited father. The room had tints of sun shining through the windows. It was a new day.

"Lana and Lola came out while you were all sleeping. Do you want to meet them?"

And so the stampede developed. Once again, Lynn Sr. guided the children through the narrow, quiet corridors of the hospital ward. They turned into the room and were greeted by the still tired Rita, holding two newborns, one in each arm.

"Good morning everyone," she said softly.

"Happy New Year, honey!" Lynn Sr. replied. And it was then that his eyes could truly register the two beautiful sights before him. The man felt something...new from seeing them. Like magic, a rope was loosened, a string carefully released. His face softened, lost all of its defense, and he proudly approached his two new daughters.

"Hi Lana, hi Lola," he said, his voice struggling to remain controlled in the wave of elation. He felt his eyes stinging with tears and he shamelessly let them fall, "you two are our New Year twins!"

The other children started surrounding the bed, getting their own close-ups of the twins. Even in the midst of the aww's and smiles, Lori still made sure to keep her own eye on Leni, seeing how she was reacting. She appeared fine, celebrating the births as much as the next. Celebrating the new decade.

Spring came as quickly as ever. Even with two new girls around, the House maintained its normalcy. The kids still played and talked amongst each other, even though Lori felt she was getting too old for such little games. As time told, she started asking Mom to take her to the mall to get new clothes. And nice ones at that.

Leni was pleased to see the room's closet fill with new selections, new combinations. It didn't take long for the girl to start observing them, coloring them, and (on some days) wearing them herself. As annoyed as Lori was for this behavior, she understood it was part of the 'package'. And it wasn't all that big of a trade off if it mean she would finally be admired. After all, such a matter was a top priority for the young girl.

With the rejuvenation came Lori's eleventh birthday. As promised, her gifts mainly consisted of new clothes, mostly from the mall. She admired and thanked her parents for getting her such valuable tickets to that final stopping point she now craved more than anything.

But there was one moment that caught the birthday girl's attention. At one point, she caught Leni slipping upstairs by herself. Unfortunately, she was in the middle of talking to the others, so she couldn't follow her.

"Is she okay?"

Before the crowd could dissipate, the answer appeared to be delivered. Leni returned unnoticed. Nothing on her face appeared out of the ordinary, she seemed just as happy as the others for their big sister. Did she just go upstairs for alone time? Had she really gotten above the point where she doesn't need to isolate herself so frequently? It's a shame days like then provided little time for contemplation.

And now that Lori thought about it, the past year had moved fairly quickly. Rapid changes, new additions. Was this just a way of life? Did things change all that much? Was it just a silly dream or thought? For a brief moment, Lori found herself at an unusual crossroad. Too much had happened. Was that what made it nothing more than a blur. But then change struck again. It didn't seem to matter that much anymore. Now there was simply the future.

"Let's hope she likes that sewing machine Mom and Dad got her," was all she could think of before moving on.