Tegwen, wearing her altered red and black dress, her hair partially up in a little tiara, fought back tears. "But this is all I have to wear!" Tegwen checked with her hands to be sure that none of her make-up was running.

"Red? What happened to your black dress?" Beitiris asked Tegwen sadly, emerging from the powder room.

"You are not going to let her go looking like that, are you?!" Giffen addressed his wife.

"This is the black dress," Tegwen whispered. She kept a tight grasp of the bracelet that Magica had bestowed upon her.

Beitiris looked at Tegwen in shock.

"You can't let her go like this!" Giffen repeated.

Mom . . . Tegwen thought, closing her eyes tightly. Please let me go like this! Please! Her grip on the red stone tightened.

Beitiris sighed, but suddenly brightened. "She is almost fifteen, Giff. Maybe we should start letting her make her own decisions."

Tegwen's eyes flew open as she gasped. "Mom? Really??"

Beitiris smiled. "Yes."

Tegwen hugged her mom tightly.

Giffen slowly smiled after a minute, watching his girls. "Fine." He conceded, receiving a hug from Tegwen. "But you're not going home with anyone else. I don't even want you asking about it. I don't care if it's Bearison Fjord offering you a ride in his limo. Got it?"

"Bearison Fjord?" Tegwen's smile faded. "Who?"

Giffen exchanged glances with Beitiris. "I refuse to believe we're that old that our daughter doesn't recognize our favorite actors' names!" He turned to Tegwen. "You know, the star of the Calisota Jim movies? Raiders of the Lost Harp? The Temple of Gloom?"