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slimming."
    "Everyone wears black," Frankie says. "And we don't need slimming. We need something fun. Something -- ew! Not that fun!" She shoves me back into the stall before any passing shoppers can associate her with the orange monstrosity in fitting room A.
    "Keep trying, Anna. You'll find the one."
    Five more try-ons, five more rejects. Okay, maybe last year's yellow one-piece with the daisy neckline has potential.
    "Frank, this is hopeless. Can't I just wear my --"
    "No," she says, stepping out of her stall. "You are not allowed to mention that yellow suit again. I think I found one I like. Come see."
    I crack open my door. Frankie is a vision in a sheer white wrap below the artificial glow of the fitting room.
    She opens the wrap to reveal a baby blue halter-style suit that ties at the neck and hips and covers just enough of Frankie to keep everyone wondering. It was made for her; evidenced by the mothers and daughters gathering around her like lost sheep seeking her guidance through the tangled pastures of Bling's swimsuit collection.
    "Oh my God, that's it!" I emerge from my stall and hug her as though she's trying on wedding gowns. "You look amazing!"
    "Does it make me look too fat?" She tugs at the bottom and turns back and forth to look at her butt and stomach in the three-way mirror. "What about my huge ribs? I have man-ribs."
    One of the mothers laughs.
    "Honey," the woman says, "if I had that body, I'd go to the beach naked."
    Frankie smiles. The other moms agree. A little girl stares. Celeb Style, here she comes.
    "Frank, it's awesome. You have to get that suit."
    "You think? Are you sure?"
    "Yes," the lost sheep and I say. "Okay, as long as you're being honest."
    "Oh my God, if you don't get that suit I'm not going to California."
    "Okay, okay! I'll get it. In the meantime, here." She reaches into her dressing room and pulls out a hanger full of olive green something. "I think I found one for you, too. I know you're a little more conservative about these things."
    Locked in my stall, I strip down again and prepare for another painful but predictable rejection. If this one doesn't work out, I'm going to Alaska instead. No swimsuit required.
    I pull and stretch and tie the various parts into position without looking in the mirror. As I stare at the chipped Cotton Candy nail polish on my toes, I imagine walking down the beach in my childish yellow suit with Frankie, Queen of Summer, in soft baby blue. I'll be the sidekick. The second string. The second helping. The second choice.
    My head hurts. "Well?" Frankie knocks on the door. "Do you have it on?"
    I unlatch the door and push it open, still afraid to look in the mirror.
    "Wow. Wow. Anna, oh my God. Wow!"
    "Bad?" I whisper.
    "Um, come here." Before I can say another word, Frankie grabs my wrist and pulls me into the main fitting room in front of the three-way mirror. Thankfully, the sheep have disbanded.
    "Look." She nudges me closer. I stare at my reflection. The girl in the mirror stares back. I don't recognize her.
    "Anna, you're getting this suit."
    "It's eighty dollars."
    "Anna, you're getting this suit."
    "But I --"
    "Anna, you're getting this suit. That's it."
    I twist and turn and contort all of my appendages in search of some fatal flaw that will force me to abandon the suit, but I can't find one. Not in the lightly padded halter top that ties at the neck like Frankie's. Not in the boy-shorts bottom that makes my stomach look flat and slides over my hips like a second skin.
    "See, I told you you're gorgeous," Frankie says.
    "Whatever." I'm still getting used to the idea of showing anyone my belly button on purpose.
    "Oh my God," Frankie squeals. "Anna, I just thought of the best idea ever. "
    "Great. I'll ask Mom to set aside some bail money."
    "No, listen." She puts her arm around me and lowers her voice. "It's about the Albatross." Her broken eyebrow seems to be dancing as she wiggles it suggestively.
    "Oh, right. Your little pet project." I am