She swallowed her pride, put on a dress, twirled, and gave in to the system they call life. Marigold was a city girl. Shopping at thrift stores, eating hotdogs from stands.... It never got old to her. But her parents. Oh, her parents are another story. They enjoyed the finer things in life. Galas, shopping at designer stores, fancy-schamcy (as Marigold would call it) restaurants with menus as big as the table. Marigold would always pretend she had plans with her friends when they would go to such things, but in reality, she had few friends at all. Slavik, the young Russian man who owned her favorite hotdog cart, was one of them. "I come to America to be successful, but what I'm doing? I'm selling hotdogs from a cart of grease and water." He would always say when he gives her the extra mustard she always asks for. Jiminy, the police man who is always stationed outside of the bank next to her favorite thrift store, she sometimes calls a friend in her mind. Marigold gives him a salute every time she passes him, which is quite often. Sometimes, he salutes back. Most of the time, he's eating a hotdog with extra mustard, just like her or playing casino games on his phone. New York City is full of characters like that, and that's why she loves her home so much. Or rather, her home city. Not her home. Her home is in Lenox Hill, the richest neighborhood of NYC. Not fun for a girl like Marigold. But tonight, she had to swallow her pride and suck it up. Her parents had finally cracked her. Now they know she has no friends. Now they know her ripped jeans aren't designer. Now they know everything. Mr and Mrs Mason forced their daughter to put on a dress. The same dress that had been sitting in her closet for months. The same dress that Marigold tried to burn when she first saw it. The dress that changed her life.