The next day, I was up bright and early: not by choice of course, but because Jessie invades my bed, waking me with cries of “SHOWTIME!” I groan and roll over, batting Jessie’s eager face away from me. “Go away,” I murmur. Jessie’s always been an early riser. “What time is it anyway?” “Six o’clock!” An impish grin spreads across Jessie’s face. “SIX!” I howl. “SIX!!” I put my pillow over my face and block out Jessie’s talking. Jessie pulls the doona off my bed, struggling with the heavy material. “Get UP, lazypants!” I grin. “You’ve got me this time, Jess, but tomorrow I’ll be up no later than seven.”
After breakfast (sadly not pancakes, but instead porridge) Mum drives us to the studio. “Good luck, darling girls!” She kisses each of us on the cheek. “I’ll pick you up at four!”
“Alright!” we call back, eager to be inside the TV studio.
At the doors, we are greeted by a smartly dressed woman carrying a briefcase. I guess that this must be Brittney. “Hello, girls,” she says, curtly. “Please follow me. The other bridesmaids are already here, waiting for you.” She walks briskly down a corridor. “You will be briefed on what you will do, fitted for dresses and given your costumes today. That is all you need to know.” We nod at Brittney.
When we reach the briefing room, we see two other girls already seated there. “Jessie, Georgie, Mary, Selma. Mary, Selma, Jessie, Georgie.” Brittney introduces us. “You will all be bridesmaids in ‘My Moon Wedding’. Is everything clear?” We all nod our heads. “I will leave you to become acquainted with each other.” Brittney walks out of the room.
Selma and Mary are identical twins, just like us. They have blond hair, snub noses, blue eyes, lacy dresses (Mary’s is pink, Selma’s blue) and just the right amount of freckles to make them pretty. All in all, they’re perfect. Perfectly infuriating rich snobs. “Our Daddy has a chauffeur,” says Selma.
“Our Mummy has a private cinema,” says Mary.
“I have a massive room with its own swimming pool,” says Selma.
“I have three million, six hundred and twenty thousand, nine hundred and seventy-two dollars in my bank,” says Mary.
“We live in a mansion,” says Selma.
“Our three hundred and seventy-second cousin twice removed’s wife’s great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandnephew’s dogwalker’s niece’s great-great-great-great-great-great-granddaughter is a princess,” says Mary.
“Who are you?” they say together. Jessie grins and winks at me.
“Our Daddy has TEN chauffeurs,” Jessie says.
“Our Mummy has three hundred and sixty-five cinemas, each for a different day of the year,” I say.
“I have two rooms, with a swimming pool in each of them,” Jessie continues.
“I have three million, six hundred and twenty thousand, nine hundred and seventy-three dollars in my bank.” I’m beginning to get the hang of this.
“We’re both princesses,” Jessie says.
“And we live in a palace!” I finish. Just at that moment, Brittney comes in.
“All done, girls?” she asks. We nod. Again. “Good. Now I’m going to tell you a bit about ‘My Moon Wedding’.”
“So, you’re going to be asked to wear dresses and ruin people’s weddings by replacing their bridesmaids. On the moon. This should be quite easy. Then, afterwards, you’ll be asked how you felt about it. Tell the truth.
“You should be heading to the moon in approximately one fortnight. It takes a long, long time to get there, so we will drug you mildly on the trip so that you fall asleep.
“When you’re on the moon, we will be filming every aspect of your lives. You will live in a cramped space together, with no way to get away from each other. We want to see how you react to that.
“You will be interviewed about just about everything. You will wear your space-dresses 100% of the time. Is everything clear?”
Selma raises her hand. “Yes?” asks Brittney.
“Um… what colour will the dresses be?” I raise one eyebrow. Brittney sighs.
“You’re about to find out. Follow me, girls.”
We follow her down a corridor and turn into a room hung with costumes. It says Fitting Room in bold letters on the door. “So this is where we get our space dresses?” asks Jessie.
“Yes,” says Brittney. “It is.” We step into the room and get given things which basically look like long-sleeved glittery tutus. Mine is orange. I step into the changing room and put it on. It looks utterly hideous. And ridiculous. Jessie has hers on now. It’s green. I laugh out loud. She really does look silly. She’s wearing a top which looks like it’s made out of green tinfoil. Her tights look the same, and she’s wearing a tutu which looks like it’s been stretched out so it touches the ground. I stop laughing when I realise I look exactly the same.
“We look like absolute clowns!” crows Jess.
“I think we look quite beautiful!” says Selma, snobbily. She’s wearing a blue dress. “She would,” I whisper to Jess. We both laugh. Mary steps out. Her dress is pink.
“I do too.”
“I do too!” Jess whispers, imitating Mary’s high-pitched voice.
“Quite done, girls?” I turn around. Brittney stands over us. We nod. We’re all scared into silence by the strict woman. “I trust they all fit?” she asks. We nod again.
“Good,” she says. “It’s time for lunch.”