Karen's Haircut, Page 3

  Boy, was I going to surprise the kids at school.

  When Seth dropped me off at school that day, I felt nervous. What would everyone think of the New Karen? I tried to walk into my classroom with confidence. I tried to walk in as if I dressed like this every day.

  I sat down at my desk.

  I could tell that all the kids were staring at me. I could feel their eyes. But no one said a word. That was probably because Yicky Ricky wasn’t there yet.

  After I had put my things away in my desk, I walked to the back of the room. A bunch of girls were crowded there.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Hi,” they replied. Well, everyone said hi except Hannie. She wasn’t talking to me.

  “Guess what. I have a new name,” I told the other girls.

  Hannie rolled her eyes, but Nancy said, “What is it?”

  “It’s Tiffanie Titania Brewer.”

  “Ooh, that’s beautiful,” said Natalie Springer.

  But a few moments later, Nancy said, “Hey, Karen, look what I — ”

  “My name is Tiffanie,” I interrupted her.

  Just then Ricky came into our classroom. Uh-oh.

  “Look, there’s the Bride of Frankenstein!” was the first thing Ricky said.

  “For your information, Richard, my name is Tiffanie. And by the way, your glasses make you look like an owl,” I said loudly.

  Everybody laughed. The boys started hooting at Ricky. “Who-who-who. Who-who-who.”

  Ricky sat down, looking cross. But he didn’t bother me all morning. I think he was afraid I’d call him another name. In fact, Ricky was the only kid in class who remembered not to call me Karen.

  Natalie said, “I like your nails, Karen.”

  Jannie Gilbert said, “Sit with me at lunch, Karen.”

  Nancy said, “I got a new dress, Karen. Come over after school and see it.”

  “Okay,” I replied.

  But Ricky said, “You look very, um, pretty, T-Taffy.”

  “Thank you,” I replied, even though he’d gotten the name wrong. At least he had tried.

  Hannie didn’t call me Tiffanie or Taffy or Karen or anything. She still wasn’t speaking to me. I guess it was because I wasn’t perfect … yet.

  Krystal

  When school was over, Mrs. Dawes, Nancy’s mother, picked up Nancy and me and drove us home.

  On the way, I said, “Guess what, Mrs. Dawes. I have a new name. It’s Tiffanie Titania Brewer. Do you like it?”

  “It’s … very nice,” replied Mrs. Dawes.

  I saw her glance in the rearview mirror at Nancy and me.

  “Hey, Karen — ” Nancy began.

  “Tiffanie, Tiffanie, TIFFANIE!” I cried.

  “Sorry,” said Nancy. “Hey, Tiffanie, can you come look at my new dress before you go home?”

  “Sure,” I replied.

  So when we pulled into the Daweses’ driveway, I went into Nancy’s house. We ran upstairs to her room.

  “Here it is,” said Nancy. She pulled a beautiful yellow dress out of her closet. “It’s for my cousin’s bar mitzvah. But first I’m wearing it to the wedding.”

  “What wedding?” I asked.

  “Hannie’s.”

  “Hannie’s?!”

  “Didn’t she invite you?” asked Nancy.

  “No,” I replied crossly. “She’s mad at me and I’m mad at her. Well, I better go. Mommy doesn’t know I’m at your house. I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

  “Okay,” replied Nancy. She looked troubled. “ ‘Bye, Karen.”

  “ ‘Bye,” I called. I didn’t even bother to remind her that my name was Tiffanie.

  “ ‘Bye, Karen,” said Mrs. Dawes as I ran through the front door.

  “ ‘Bye, Mrs. Dawes.”

  Okay, so maybe Tiffanie was a hard name to remember. Maybe it was too different from Karen. By the time I had reached my own house next door, I had decided something. I needed another new and glamorous name, but I needed one that started with the same sound as Karen.

  All afternoon I thought of names: Camille, Carlotta, Caroline, Catherine, Candace, Clarissa, Cornelia, Kimberly, Kerry, Kelly. By dinnertime, I had another new name for myself — Krystal. Usually, you spell that name with a C: Crystal. But I would spell it with a K to make it more like Karen.

  I told my little-house family my new name.

  Seth remembered to call me Krystal!

  Mommy forgot and called me Karen.

  And Andrew finally called me Tiffanie.

  I wasn’t going to give up, though. I phoned Nancy that night. “I have another new name,” I told her. “It’s much easier to remember. My new name is Krystal.”

  “Krystal,” repeated Nancy. Then she said, “Kar — I mean, um, oh well, what’s going on with you and Hannie?”

  “We’re having a fight,” I answered. “Hannie says I’m not perfect so I can’t be in her wedding. I was going to be her bridesmaid.”

  “That is so unfair!” exclaimed Nancy.

  “Are you going to be mad at Hannie now?” I asked hopefully.

  “No,” replied Nancy. “I can’t be. She hasn’t done anything to me. I’m still Hannie’s friend, and I’m still your friend, too.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Nancy. I mean, thank you for being my friend even when I have ugly hair and ugly teeth.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Good night, Nancy.”

  “Good night … Kristy?”

  Gazelle, Desirée, and Chantal

  The next day, Friday, I went to school as Krystal Karlotta Brewer.

  I wore my sparkly gold nail polish and all of my jewelry. And I stuck a secret something in the pocket of my skirt before I left our house. As soon as Seth dropped me off at school, I ran to the girls’ room. I set my book bag and my lunch box on the floor. Then I pulled the something out of my pocket.

  It was a tube of red lipstick. Mommy had thrown it away while there was still some perfectly good lipstick at the end of the tube. I smeared the lipstick all over my mouth. I did not look exactly the way Mommy does when she wears lipstick, but I looked pretty interesting. Maybe glamorous. One thing was for sure: I was the only second-grader wearing lipstick. And an ankle bracelet.

  I marched proudly into my classroom.

  Everyone noticed the lipstick right away.

  “You’re wearing makeup!” cried Nancy.

  “Lipstick!” exclaimed Natalie Springer. “Wow.”

  (Hannie looked at me, but she did not say anything.)

  “Karen — ” began Jannie Gilbert.

  “Excuse me,” I said, “but I have another name. This one is easier to remember. I am now Krystal Karlotta Brewer.”

  “Christina?” said Natalie.

  “No, Krystal.”

  Nobody could remember Krystal, either (except for Ricky Torres). I gave the kids in my class a whole week to remember it, too. During that time, I found some blusher that Mommy had thrown away and I started secretly wearing that with the lipstick. My friends were impressed. They thought I was glamorous. Hannie even spoke to me. She said, “You still can’t be in my wedding, Karen.”

  After a week I decided I needed another new name. Krystal was not working. So on Monday I told my friends that I was Gazelle. Ricky remembered. He said, “Here’s your pencil, Gazelle,” when I dropped it on the floor.

  But Nancy called me Gardenia and the boys (except for Ricky) called me Godzilla.

  I quickly changed my name to Desirée.

  Ricky called me Desirée, Natalie called me Dee-Dee, and Nancy, looking confused, called me Dezimay (or something like that).

  Hannie called me Karen and said I still couldn’t be in her wedding.

  That was Wednesday. On Friday, I changed my name to Chantal. I added hair ribbons to my outfit. When I wore just one, it looked funny with my short hair. But when I put on six at the same time, I looked more glamorous than ever, especially with my nail polish, lipstick, blusher, rings, necklaces, and the ankle bracelet.

 
In school I announced, “Today I am Chantal Chantilly Brewer.”

  Ricky called me Chantal, Natalie called me Tiffanie, Nancy called me Rochelle, two boys called me Godzilla again, and three more called me the Bride of Frankenstein.

  Hannie still didn’t call me anything. She just looked at my outfit and said, “My wedding is on Sunday, and you’re not invited.”

  I said, “I am going to come anyway since I will be at my father’s house. And I am going to put on the worst outfit I can think of, and I am going to embarrass you.”

  Hannie said, “Are not.”

  I said, “Am too.”

  Then Ms. Colman said, “Class, please sit down.”

  So Hannie and I stuck our tongues out at each other and sat down.

  The Big Kids

  It was that Friday, the day I changed my name to Chantal, that I noticed something. That morning I had looked at myself in the bathroom mirror for a long time, and guess what. My hair was growing out! It was still short, but it looked an awful lot better than it had after Gloriana had first cut it. That was why I had decided to wear the six hair ribbons. My haircut, I decided, was not so bad, no matter what Hannie said.

  Guess what else. My teeth looked better, too. New ones were growing in and filling up the spaces. They had a long way to go, but my mouth looked better without such holes in it. Also, I could tell that the new teeth were going to be bigger than the baby teeth had been. So my front teeth wouldn’t look so much like rabbit teeth. They wouldn’t stand out as much.

  I smiled at myself in the mirror. That made me look even better. I remembered a song from the play Annie, and I sang part of it to Goosie when I went back to my bedroom.

  “You’re never fully dressed without a smile,” I sang.

  Goosie just stared at me. It is such a shame to have buttons for eyes.

  Then Mommy called me. She reminded me that after school, Andrew and I would be going to Daddy’s for the weekend.

  She did not remember to call me Chantal.

  * * *

  I didn’t mind. I was feeling too good on Friday. I also did not mind much when Hannie and I stuck our tongues out at each other again. Then, something really great happened. It was almost the end of the school day. I had been to the girls’ room, and I was walking back to Ms. Colman’s class, when I saw two big kids — fifth-grade girls. They were walking toward me. They tried to point at me without my seeing, but I saw anyway.

  Uh-oh, I thought. They are going to tease me.

  But they didn’t. As we passed each other, they smiled at me.

  I smiled back.

  When the bell rang at the end of the day, I told Nancy what had happened. “You know what?” I said. “I think they liked my hair.”

  “Really?” replied Nancy. I could tell she was impressed. Big kids had liked something about a second-grader!

  But Hannie said, “Sure they liked your hair. Sure they did.” I could tell she didn’t believe me.

  I did not care what Hannie said. I had seen the big kids smile at me. I thought they liked my hair. So I felt pretty. (Well, almost pretty.)

  Hannie’s Accident

  On Saturday morning I woke up in my room at the big house.

  “Good morning, Moosie. Good morning, Tickly,” I said.

  I lay in bed and wondered what I would do that day. Usually I play with Hannie. But I knew she would not call me. And I certainly would not call her.

  At breakfast I announced, “I’m bored.”

  My whole big-house family was at the kitchen table. I was hoping Kristy would invite me to go shopping with her and her friend Mary Anne. Or that Daddy would say, “Come help me in the garden.”

  Instead, Elizabeth said, “Why don’t you take Emily outside to play. I think she would like that.”

  Before I could answer her, Andrew said, “Let’s teach her to play tag. She doesn’t know how. I bet she would like running after us.”

  “Well … okay,” I said, even though I thought Emily was too little to understand tag. I didn’t want to disappoint Andrew or make Elizabeth cross.

  So a few minutes later, Andrew and Emily Michelle and I went into our front yard.

  “Keep Emily away from the street,” Elizabeth called after us.

  “We will,” I promised. Then I turned to Emily. I looked into her dark eyes. “Okay,” I said, “today you are going to learn how to play a new game. It’s called tag.”

  “Da?” said Emily, pointing to something across the yard.

  I looked at Andrew. He shrugged.

  “Emily, pay attention,” I said. “Now Andrew is going to be It, and he is supposed to run after us. He’s supposed to try to catch one of us. Ready? Here we go.”

  I ran around the front yard. Andrew ran after me. Emily watched us. She laughed.

  I stopped. “Emily’s not doing anything,” I said.

  Andrew did not care. He crashed into me. “Tag! You’re It!” he cried.

  “No fair!” I cried. “I stopped because Emily’s not playing.”

  Andrew was about to argue with me when I noticed something across the street. Hannie was wheeling her bike out of her garage. She hopped onto it, sped down her driveway, lost control, bumped over the curb, and fell in the street.

  “Oh, no!” I shouted, just as Hannie wailed, “Ow, ow, ow! Help me!”

  I forgot that Hannie and I were mad at each other. I ran to the sidewalk. Luckily, no cars were coming, so I dashed across the street. I helped move Hannie and her bicycle onto the Papadakises’ front lawn.

  Then I helped Hannie inside to her mother.

  Hannie’s mouth was bleeding all over the place. She spit two teeth into her hand.

  “Oh, Mommy!” sobbed Hannie. “Look!”

  “It’s okay,” said Mrs. Papadakis calmly. She told Hannie to rinse her mouth out at the kitchen sink. “They were baby teeth and they were loose anyway.”

  “I know,” said Hannie. But she could not stop crying.

  Her mother gave her a hug. She washed Hannie’s face.

  Hannie was still crying.

  “Does your mouth hurt a lot?” asked Mrs. Papadakis.

  “No,” replied Hannie. “Not much. But now I am too ugly to marry Scott.”

  Scott and Hannie

  After Hannie stopped crying I went back to my house. I was sorry Hannie had hurt herself, and I was sorry she thought she was ugly. But I did not want to stay with her. Hannie had been mean to me for almost two weeks. She had not said, “I’m sorry,” to me. She had not even thanked me for helping her when she fell off her bike.

  Daddy didn’t know about that, though. And the first thing he said when I came back from the Papadakises’ was, “How is Hannie? Andrew told me about her accident.”

  “She’s okay,” I replied. “She knocked out two of her teeth, but they were baby teeth and they were already loose.”

  “Hannie must be feeling pretty bad, though.”

  I shrugged. “I guess so.”

  “I’m surprised you’re not keeping Hannie company. You two are always together. Well, you can visit her after lunch,” said Daddy.

  “Do I have to?” I asked.

  “Don’t you want to?”

  “I guess,” I answered. I didn’t feel like telling Daddy about our fight.

  So after lunch I had to go back to Hannie’s house.

  Boy, was I relieved when Scott Hsu arrived at Hannie’s at the same time I did! Now I would not have to face Hannie by myself.

  “Hi, Scott,” I said.

  “Hi, Karen,” he answered. He rang the doorbell.

  Linny let us inside. “Hannie’s up in her room,” he said.

  Scott ran up the stairs to Hannie’s bedroom. I followed slowly. What was I supposed to say to Hannie? Sorry you knocked your teeth out — now you look as ugly as I do? Sorry you’ve been a pain in the neck? Sorry Gloriana is a rotten haircutter?

  At least I was still looking pretty good. When I got dressed that morning I hadn’t put on hair ribbons or jewelry o
r anything. I had just brushed my hair out. And I looked … nice.

  Scott had reached Hannie’s room. I was trailing behind him, but I could hear him say, “Karen’s here, too.”

  I took a deep breath. I entered Hannie’s room.

  She was lying on her bed, reading a book. She looked sad.

  “I heard about your accident,” Scott told Hannie.

  (I didn’t say anything. I just stood inside the doorway.)

  “You did?” said Hannie in a small voice.

  Scott nodded. “Andrew Brewer told me.” (Had he told the whole world?) “Well, I was just wondering,” Scott went on. “Will you feel well enough to have the wedding tomorrow?”

  Hannie shook her head. “You don’t want to marry me now,” she said. “Look at me.” She opened her mouth and showed Scott the two gaps where her teeth had been.

  “So what?” said Scott.

  “I’m not perfect. I’m ugly!” cried Hannie.

  Scott’s eyes widened. “I don’t care what you look like,” he said. “I’m not marrying your face I’m marrying you. Okay?”

  “Okay,” said Hannie. She smiled a tiny smile.

  Scott left then. As he ran down the hall, he called over his shoulder, “See you tomorrow at our wedding!”

  I put my hand on my hip and stared at Hannie.

  She could not look back at me.

  “I’m Sorry, Chandrelle”

  Since Hannie could not look at me, or even say anything, finally I said, “My father made me come over here. I didn’t want to, but he said I had to.”

  At last Hannie glanced up. “I guess if I were you, I wouldn’t have wanted to come over, either.”

  “You’ve been pretty mean to me,” I told her.

  Hannie nodded. “I can’t believe how nice Scott was to me. I’m sorry I’ve been mean, Chandrelle.”

  “It’s Chantal,” I replied. (Wouldn’t anybody ever get my name right?)