by Jane Prinsep

Created on: September 15, 2009

Rebecca's bedroom was devoid of mirrors. She was a typical tomboy, with no interest in her appearance, unless concerning choices over her footwear or which sweatshirt she might wear that day.

Tonight was different. Her sister Tara had carefully removed the mirror from her own dressing table and brought it to Rebecca. They sat in front of it together, Tara carefully applying a thin layer of mascara to Rebecca's eyelashes, who batted them defensively, rendering Tara's job impossible.

"Will you quit?" She giggled at Rebecca. Rebecca smiled back, finding it hard to engage in too much joviality.

"Stop worrying," Tara reassured her, "You'll be fine. He asked YOU, remember?"

Rebecca nodded, further disgruntling Tara, who removed the mascara wand and waved it in the air like a white flag.

"Honey, you're on your own! I just hope he loves them pale-faced and interesting!" Tara sat on the bed, cross-legged and began flipping through a magazine.

I just hope he likes me, thought Rebecca. Seventeen years old and my first date. How pathetic!

"What is this crap?" asked Tara incredulously, throwing down Rebecca's October copy of National Geographic in disgust.

When Rebecca didn't respond, Tara turned towards her. "We're so different, you and I, do you know that?"

"Don't you forget it," Rebecca quipped.

The younger of the two, Rebecca felt she was the ugly duckling of the family. Tara was tall, curvaceous and extremely feminine. Blessed with platinum hair; Rebecca's had always been a dull shade of brown. "Nondescript", she always replied, if ever asked to describe herself.

Tall and awkward, she had not inherited the fluidity of movement for which her sister was renowned. She hated her clumsy and boyish frame. Hell! She could even get away without wearing a bra! She laughed this off, making jokes about not being able to offer a safe hiding place to a pencil. However, sometimes behind the laughter, she felt inadequate. And she often felt ashamed.

She was obsessively tidy and loved to read, particularly National Geographic and Readers Digest, storing back-copies in pristine condition, alphabetically or in date order. She didn't care much for fiction or romance, preferring to read about places, people or documented adventures. It was important for her to know that there were wonderful things out there in the world; things that were real.

She hoped to travel one day, although hadn't figured out how this would fit into the direction her life was taking, fearing her loner tendencies would make

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