It took very little convincing on Zoe’s part to extract from Roger 1) a ride to and from the mall, and 2) the free use (within reason) of his credit card. Once apprised of the situation, Roger was more than happy to allow his 18 year-old daughter to take lead on the endeavor to obtain a training bra for his 11 year-old daughter.
He even said they could use the card to get lunch at the mall food court before they requested their pick-up ride.
Which, after a whirlwind of advice and fittings and deliberations, was precisely where the two sisters found themselves.
Dawn wriggled in her seat as she reached for a cheese fry, uncomfortable with her new constriction. Zoe smiled as she noticed her sister’s discomfort.
“You get used to it,” she said. “That’s why it’s called a training bra, so you’re comfortable with things once you start really growing out.”
“How do you know all this stuff?” Dawn asked.
Zoe put an elbow up on the table and leaned her chin into her hand. “Well, Mom started me off with some of the things I told you today, but I guess I just learned a lot from experience. But that’s one of the advantages of being the little sister. I can teach you everything I know about bras, and you get to learn your own new lessons and build even more knowledge than I ever had.”
Zoe was taken aback, but not quite surprised, when Dawn’s eyes shot wide open just as they had done in the fitting room the day before. Her arms spread wide, fingers splayed apart. She lifted herself very slightly off of the chair. But in a moment, she settled down once again.
Everything that Zoe had told her about bras suddenly felt ten times more important than it had a moment ago. Dawn had to commit it to memory as best she could so that she could learn her own lessons and eventually amass even more knowledge about bras than Zoe had. That’s what little sisters did.
The sleeve of Dawn’s pink dress slid off of her shoulder as she re-found her place in her seat, exposing an equally pink bra strap. Dawn found herself absent-mindedly re-adjusting her sleeve over her shoulder and re-covering the rogue strap, as though she’d done the same motion a million times before. She suddenly felt a lot less wriggly, as though no longer needing to get used to her new garment, as though she already knew what it was like to have worn one for seven years.
But, of course, she intended on learning more.
