Myself - Chapter 3 - Part XXIII

“You can always remember, Dolley Madison wore white, Emily Dickinson wore gray,” Helen said.

The three Bernies froze. “No,” I said, “I don’t know what Dolley Madison wore, but I’m pretty sure Emily Dickinson wore white, not gray.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Yes, yes, she’s the Belle of Amhurst!”

Helen smacked her head. “Oh, shoot, you’re right. I got it mixed up. Dolley Madison wore gray.”

“So I’m Emily Dickinson again?”

“Yes, you’re Emily Dickinson,” I said. “Helen, Emily; Emily, Helen.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” said Helen.

“Well, technically you’re not meeting me, since I’m really Bernie.”

“I’m not sure about that. . . No offense, but I don’t think I’d ever compliment Bernie on his shoes.” Helen looked at me and Bugsy and shrugged apologetically.

Emily looked at her feet. “All these clothes—I was wearing it all from the beginning.”

“Ew,” said Helen. “You’re gonna need new clothes.”

“Right. And I don’t know anything about clothes. Men’s or women’s. That’s where you come in.”

“Oh wow. Well that seems fun! I’ve never taught someone how to be a girl before!”

“Just remember,” Bugsy muttered, “the rain in Spain stays mainly on the plane.”

“In the plain, dingbat,” Emily said.

“She’s learning already!” Bugsy exclaimed.