Her big day by roy edroso
cotton puffs. confetti. snow. sofia tried to think of what would fall through the air but not hurt. in her dream the little white things had stung as they rained down from the sky.
she sat up in bed with the sheet pulled around behind her, the edge of it resting on top of her head. this was what she did to sort out dreams. wearing her sheet like a tent — no, like a veil — was a little ceremony of hers since before she could remember.
even as a tiny child, she'd relied on little ceremonies and rituals. the way she tied her shoelaces into perfect pairs of bows. brushing her hair for an hour before bed, as if preparing for some occasion. this sheet draped over her, as if she were a seer or a priestess, the mistress of dreams, which was better than being at their mercy. she would decide what they meant. they were, after all, her dreams.
static. sleet. little white plastic spears. she'd thought about the dream too long. time to sweep the sheet off her head, and begin the ceremony of getting ready.
the shower, which she'd hoped would wake her up, was disappointing. either too hot or too cold, she thought. either too young or too old.
at the closet sofia separated the nice clothes from the everyday ones, and was surprised to see how few nice clothes she had. how long, she asked herself, has it been since there was an occasion to dress up? she winced at the tears; she blotted them with a nice yellow dress that smelled as if it had been rescued from grandma's attic.
she shook out the yellow dress out and smelled it again. better. and the cream shoes. she could make herself presentable, she decided, feeling ridiculous that she felt that way, and proud that she could see that she was ridiculous. maybe, she thought, maybe she thought too much about herself.
she shook her head to shoo away these thoughts. how different things might have been if she and her sister had talked. but they had talked, she argued with herself. as she dressed, she thought of the times after school, when their mother was still at work and she and her sister would try on their mother's clothes. intoxicated with the smell of perfumes and powders, dressing each other in ruffles and lace, there was communication going on without words. it was when the words started that it got bad: that looks stupid on you, i am so pretty in this, too bad about that mop on top of your head, i'm the one who looks like mommy, not you!
was that the beginning of why there were so few words between them now?
she looked in the mirror. "you look nice," she told herself. "really? yes." but the negative words were still in her mind, the way they always were, her sister ever-present. she stood on tiptoe and pulled down the gift wrapped in white and silver from the top shelf, where it had hidden since its purchase months before.
driving to the church, she suddenly had the urge to turn around. pull over, pull over, stop, turn around, go back. but she kept driving.
when she arrived there was music and voices coming from the church, then a hush and music only. as she walked up the steps, a few women she didn't recognize hurried out and gestured to her to come in; they were shutting the doors. a cloud of a white dress floated up the darkened aisle to the heart of the sanctuary.
afterward, one of the women came up to sofia and smiled in an uncertain but friendly way. then she held out a bag tied with a lovely ribbon. as she took it, the rice crunched in her hand. she lined up along the sidewalk with the rest of the guests. sofia reached into the bag and realized the rice seemed familiar somehow. but she pushed the thought aside and readied herself to shower the happy couple with the small white pellets as they emerged from the church.

which statement most accurately explains how the details in paragraph 3 create suspense in the story?

a. they heighten curiosity about the meaning of sofia's little rituals and dreams.
b. they raise questions about what sofia was like as a child.
c. they show that sofia's dreams are creating conflict with others.
d. they suggest that sofia's little rituals and dreams are becoming self-destructive.