Mama said I was a dreamer. She always said this with a cutting edge to the words. I saw things in a pretty way. Fancy is what my best friend, Emmaline, called it. She never saw anything in a fancy way, but we still loved each other. Sometimes we pretended we was sisters. Of course, Emmaline was the bossy older sister, even though we was the same age. But seeing pretty was the worst thing a slave girl could do. My love for beauty opened the door for ugly to come walking right in. I learned that from Emmaline too.