| rdfs:comment | - A woman targeted in a mob hit in Chinatown escapes, but in critical condition. Now Nick must find her before the mobsters do.
- "Isabella," my mother calls up the stairs. "You have a visitor." "Yes, Mom," I say, sliding off my bed and walking downstairs. Phineas is there, leaning against my kitchen counter. "Phineas has a question," my mother says, gesturing to Phineas, who shifts slightly. Here is where my imagination goes into overdrive. I try to shut down the imagination factory inside my head so that I can hear what Phineas is saying. "I was just wondering... my cousin's getting married, and we're allowed to bring one guest to the wedding... would you like come?" asks Phineas. "I mean — it's okay if you don't, but —" "Oh, no, I'd love to go," I gush. Okay, Isabella, calm down. It's not your wedding. "When is it?" "Tomorrow morning, Saturday," my mother replies. I look at her. "How did you know?" Phineas
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| abstract | - A woman targeted in a mob hit in Chinatown escapes, but in critical condition. Now Nick must find her before the mobsters do.
- "Isabella," my mother calls up the stairs. "You have a visitor." "Yes, Mom," I say, sliding off my bed and walking downstairs. Phineas is there, leaning against my kitchen counter. "Phineas has a question," my mother says, gesturing to Phineas, who shifts slightly. Here is where my imagination goes into overdrive. I try to shut down the imagination factory inside my head so that I can hear what Phineas is saying. "I was just wondering... my cousin's getting married, and we're allowed to bring one guest to the wedding... would you like come?" asks Phineas. "I mean — it's okay if you don't, but —" "Oh, no, I'd love to go," I gush. Okay, Isabella, calm down. It's not your wedding. "When is it?" "Tomorrow morning, Saturday," my mother replies. I look at her. "How did you know?" Phineas smiles. "You can't just sit there like a blob when you play bridge, you know." Alrighty then. That night when I fall asleep, my dreams are adorned with bouquets of flowers and long white veils. I'm so lost in my fantasy that my mother has to literally shake me awake to get me up early enough to get ready for the wedding, to at least look nice. Beauty hurts, that's all I can say. My mother has blown-dry or rubbed blush on almost every single square inch of my body, and has picked out a dress and shoes for me. "You can wear it again," my mother says, looking at my outfit. "To where?" I ask. "The Oscars?" My mother laughs and pushes me out the door, where the Flynns' station wagon is waiting. I almost say that it's pointless for them to pick me up when they live across the street, but I hold my tongue and slide into the backseat next to Phineas and Ferb. "You look nice," Phineas says, blushing slightly. Ferb nods. "Thanks," I say, feeling my cheeks redden too. Hopefully Phineas can't tell it from this stupid blush. "Um, you too?" They both laugh. The ride to the garden is short. I suppose that would be what you would call it, anyway. There's huge cherry trees, covered in pink petals, small, elegant bunches of white flowers here and there, and wedding guests milling around, chatting and laughing. I stand there admiring it all until Phineas touches my arm. "Time to move, or we'll get run over by the bride." We take a seat and watch as the bride comes down the aisle with her father. Everyone oohs and ahhs. Somewhere, I can hear soft, happy tears. The bride and her father are like a page from a children's book on opposites. The girl is tall, fair-haired, and thin, while her father is a short, plump, dark-haired and smiling man who reminds me of a young Santa Claus. They reach the man at the end of the aisle and the religion-y guy (I don't know that name!) begins to speak. "Do you, William Edgar, take Alyson Gwendolyn..." The happy tears get louder. "...then you may kiss the bride." The bride and her new husband kiss, and everyone applauds. The crowd stands up and begins swarming the new couple, who are beaming like no tomorrow. I detach myself from the crowd for a minute and go to get a breath of fresh air. All the women who were invited wear quite potent perfumes. Walking along the long rows of cherry trees, I accumulate many pink petals in my hair. I feel a hand brush them out and jump about a mile, whirling on the spot to see who's behind me. It's Phineas. "Sorry," he says sheepishly. "I guess I should have let you known I was here before I went picking cherry blossoms out of your hair!" I giggle. "It's okay." I could never stay mad at him for any reason. He falls into step beside me as the wind picks up slightly and detaches even more blossoms from the trees. It's like a pastel pink blizzard. When the wind dies down, there are cherry blossoms everywhere: all in my hair, in Phineas's hair, and in dunes around us. We look at each other and laugh. He grabs my hand and we walk silently along the rows of cherry trees, a moment I never want to end.
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