You're a bit stunned the first time you see your stepsister Reagan on prom night. You've met Reagan maybe a dozen times over the past three years since your parents first got engaged and she's always been a tomboy. Even at the wedding, she declined to be a bridesmaid to avoid wearing the dress.

Still, she's wearing a dress now and when she opens the front door, you're genuinely gobsmacked. Reagan assumes you're teasing her and punches you in the arm. "Come on. The photographer's already here."

You follow Reagan inside. She's wearing a green prom dress made of a material you wouldn't have guessed she'd ever heard of and wearing it well. With her normally-unruly mop of red hair swept and tamed into an updo and actual makeup, she looks like she's headed to the Oscars, not a high school dance at a local hotel.

Your mother and Reagan's father are there for the pictures, smiling and laughing and seemingly as excited as they would be if it were their own prom. Reagan throws herself into the event with the same gusto she seems to have for everything.

You're in the limo before you ask why it's just the two of you and not a second couple. Reagan gives a derisive snort. "That would be my best friend and I don't have any friends at that school. Any time someone stops being horrible to me, I know they're about to try to get me into bed. Once I say no, they just get even meaner."

You're taken aback. It's the first time you've ever heard Reagan express negativity about anything. You're a little astonished anyone would dare to be mean to her. She lays a hand on your arm. "Hey, I know I already said this, but I really appreciate you doing this for me. I figure we'll go for an hour tops. I just want them to see that I'm not inept at being a girly-girl, I just don't choose to do it very often." She grins impishly. "Also, I needed some arm candy and Timothy Chalmee isn't returning my calls."