He picked out their outfits day by day whenever he went out of town (business trips, mostly, or scouting, or someday–they dared to hope–finding them another playmate). Some days they got to wear pretty, modest things like nice young ladies, and even leave the house. Some days they didn’t get to wear anything at all. And some days they had to flip a coin to see who had to wear the good-girl shirt, and who got to be bad.

There were strict rules about what they could do to themselves and each other when he wasn’t home. But good girls had to do what they were told, and bad girls, well, they were known to break rules from time to time. Maybe the good girl had to promise not to tell what they got up to. Maybe the bad girl got to pinch, and smack, and bite. Maybe the good girl had to put her mouth to better use if she couldn’t say anything nice. Maybe the bad girl got to come.

The only rule the bad girl couldn’t break was about their jelly bracelets. They both wore them, and just like in schoolyard stories, the bracelets got broken when they did specific things. The good girl inevitably ran out by the end of t-shirt day. They only got more when he came home again, his briefcase full of presents, so he’d know by the colors on their wrists exactly what they’d done after all. But maybe if this time they were VERY good, or VERY bad, they could make him come home early.