When they were nearly done with their lunch, Laura looked at Margaret, then stared. Her friend noticed.
"Something wrong?" Margaret asked.
Laura shook her head. "Sorry, I just thought ..." What did she think? That Margaret wasn't supposed to be Latino like her? That was ridiculous, of course. Margaret had always been that way. Why did she suspect otherwise?
"It's really too bad that Serena couldn't join us," Margaret said, pushing her long brown hair over her ear.
"That's what I said earlier. But you acted like you were surprised that I brought her up."
"I did?" Margaret asked. "I don't know why. We've all been friends ever since she moved into town."
Laura looked confused for a moment, then shrugged it off. When she was done with her meal, she stood up on her 3-inch spike heels and walked over to the trash can to throw away her garbage. By now, her long-sleeved, high-necked frumpy blouse had shrunk to a short-sleeved, slightly-low-necked and tighter blouse. And her ankle-length skirt had shrunk to a just-below-the-knees miniskirt. It was nothing flashy, but way less conservative than what she was wearing a few hours earlier. And it was garnering her a bit of attention. She smiled at the two guys eying her body, then walked back to her table. As she grabbed her purse, she made no notice of the fact that her skin was continuing to darken, now a sort of mocha color. And her hair had already turned totally black. But, of course, she thought that this was all normal for her. As did Margaret, it seemed.
The two Latino women left the restaurant, got in Margaret's car and headed back to the church.
