Mary Anne's Makeover, Page 4

  Maybe I’d have to baby-sit every day till college to pay him back, but I didn’t care. As Dad and I left the mall, we were actually singing songs aloud. What a perfect day. I felt very close to my father.

  On the way home we stopped at Uncle Ed’s, a Chinese restaurant, and ordered some takeout food for dinner. Even though I could practically still taste my enchiladas, the smell from our takeout bags was making me hungry again.

  As we pulled up the driveway, I yanked down the passenger-seat visor to look in the mirror. I saw a tiny smudge of eyeliner by my left eye, which I wiped away. Otherwise, everything was perfect.

  “Ready to introduce yourself?” Dad said with a grin.

  “Ready!” My heart was beating as fast as Eh-eh’s drums. I couldn’t wait for Sharon and Dawn to see me.

  Dad parked the car in the driveway. I grabbed the Steven E bags, ran across the lawn, and rang the bell.

  Dad stepped up behind me. Sharon opened the door and looked me blankly in the face. Dawn stood next to her.

  I yelled out the only word that came to mind. “Surprise!”

  Dead silence.

  Dead, stunned silence.

  And then a whispered, “Mary Anne?” from Dawn.

  My stomach was fluttering like crazy. Dawn and Sharon were just staring at me. I wanted to shrink into the ground. Why didn’t they say something — anything? Even if they screamed and ran away in terror, at least I’d know how they felt.

  The staring probably lasted for all of two seconds, but it felt like two hours. Finally Sharon began to smile. She looked me up and down and said, “Who on earth is this gorgeous movie star?”

  Oh! She liked it! My flutters fluttered away. I spun around. My new hair whipped gently across my face, then bounced back into place. “What do you think?” I asked.

  “You look … you look sensational!” Sharon said, laughing. “Now, come in! It’s freezing out here and you have nothing on your neck!”

  As we walked inside, I glanced over my shoulder at Dad. He was smiling from ear to ear, and he gave me a wink. Tigger scampered up to me and wound himself around my ankles.

  “I’m … speechless!” Sharon exclaimed. “Why — what made you do this?”

  “I don’t know,” I said with a smile. “New Year, new look … I figured it was time to experiment. I’ve been thinking about this for awhile, but I wanted to keep it a secret.”

  “And you were in on it, Richard?” Sharon asked.

  “Sure,” he said. “I was the principal source of funding.”

  We were in the kitchen now, and Dad put the bags of Chinese food on the table. “Anybody hungry?” he asked.

  “I am,” Dawn said, helping Dad take out the food containers. “What did you get?”

  “Moo shu vegetables, sesame bean curd, lo mein — and some shelled lobster in oyster sauce, for the carnivores,” Dad said, throwing me another smile. “To celebrate.”

  “Ew,” Dawn said under her breath, as she opened the round aluminum tin that contained the lobster. With each tin she uncovered, a new, warm, drool-making smell flooded the kitchen. My burrito instantly became a distant memory.

  “Help me set the table,” Sharon said, “so we can eat before it gets cold. Then I want to hear all about your trip.”

  “Okay,” I answered.

  I noticed that Dawn was paying a lot of attention to the food. I also noticed she hadn’t said a word about my haircut and makeover.

  As I started putting plates down, Dad said to Dawn, “So, what do you think of your new stepsister?”

  “I can’t believe you got your hair cut, Mary Anne,” she said. “Where’d you go? Gloriana’s?”

  “No,” I replied. “You know that place Stacey went to? At the mall?”

  “You went there? That fancy salon?”

  Dad chuckled. Ladling food onto our plates, he said, “That fancy salon smelled like rotten eggs and had an equally rotten selection of magazines — but the stylists sure do nice work.”

  We sat down, as Sharon put chopsticks next to three of the plates (and a fork next to Dad’s). “I used Stacey’s hairstylist,” I said. “Then I got a free makeover at this great new cosmetics store, and Dad bought me some of the makeup they used.”

  “They did a wonderful job,” Sharon said, studying my face. “Let’s see. I’m trying to figure out what they did.”

  I spread out a moo shu pancake and spooned a little plum sauce on it.

  “Why didn’t you tell us you were going to have a makeover?” Dawn asked me.

  It was a fair question. But I felt something clench in my stomach. Dawn had not yet said anything nice. She was trying to be friendly, but something wasn’t right. Did she think I looked terrible? Was she mad at me? Had I done something wrong before I left the house that morning?

  “Well, I didn’t really decide for sure till the last minute,” I began.

  “You just said you had been thinking about it for awhile,” Dawn cut in.

  “Thinking about it,” I said. “But you know me —”

  “I thought I did.” Dawn jammed some bean curd in her mouth.

  “Well …” I had the urge to apologize, but I knew that was silly. Apologize for what? Instead I just looked down and spread some vegetables on my pancake.

  Dad began talking about the things we had seen in the mall — the man dancing with the mannequin, the jazz band, and the lunchtime scene.

  The highlight was Dad’s imitation of the drummer. He tapped his fork on the table, grunting, “Eh-eh … eh eh eh eh.”

  I started laughing, and Sharon looked at us with this curious smile, as if we’d just lost our minds.

  “Must have been funny,” Dawn said, staring down at a cube of bean curd.

  Then Dad said, “By the time we went to the clothing store, I felt like taking a nap —”

  “Clothing store?” Dawn said, looking up. “You went to a clothing store, too?”

  “Yes,” Dad said. “That’s what’s in all those shopping bags. Clothes. We went to some expensive place named after a young fellow who spells his last name with one letter.”

  Dawn’s eyes popped open. “You bought the clothes at Steven E?”

  “Yes,” Dad said, rolling his eyes. “A dress, a sweater, shoes …”

  “But — but it’s right after Christmas!” Dawn said. “I mean, that place is so expensive, and —”

  “Oh, Mary Anne’s going to pay for half,” Dad replied. “And I won’t forget to remind her.”

  Dawn shot a look at her mom. I could tell Sharon wasn’t thrilled about the expense, but she didn’t really look angry.

  I’ll never forget Dawn’s expression, though. I could tell she wanted to seem nonchalant, but her face was tense. She actually looked hurt.

  My excitement faded. One thing about me, whenever I sense someone doesn’t like me or is mad at me, I always assume I’m wrong. Most times I start to cry. Then I try to figure out what I did and what I can do to redeem myself.

  Well, that was the way I felt about Dawn just then.

  I could barely concentrate during the rest of the dinner.

  It was my turn to clean up the kitchen that night, and Dawn’s turn to clear the table. When she picked up my plate, she didn’t even look at me.

  I took some glasses into the kitchen and began loading the dishwasher. When I bent down, my hair fell across my eyes. I was startled. For a split second I thought a spider had fallen on me from the ceiling. I could tell I was going to have to get used to some new sensations.

  But there was one sensation I never would have predicted — I felt guilty.

  At first I didn’t know why, but soon it hit me. Dawn was jealous of me. I should have seen it right away. Why was I so dumb? I shouldn’t have bragged about what Dad and I had done. I shouldn’t have let him buy me so many things. I should have suggested that Dawn come with us to the mall.

  My thoughts were tumbling around. I didn’t know whether to talk to Dawn, or wait for her to come to me, or ask Dad’s
advice.

  I decided to do none of the above. There was only one thing that would make me feel better at that point — talking to Logan. Just hearing his voice usually puts me in a good mood.

  I quickly finished up and turned the dishwasher on. Then I sat on the stool by the wall phone and called Logan’s number.

  “Hello?” It was Logan’s little brother, Hunter.

  “Hi, Hunter,” I said.

  “Bary Add!” Hunter squealed. He has allergies to just about everything, so he always sounds nasal. “Logad! Logad! It’s Bary Add! Bary Add, I got a didosaur backpack today!”

  “Wow, that’s great —”

  “Hello? Mary Anne?”

  That was Logan. I wish you could hear his voice. It’s really warm and cheerful, and he has this great Southern accent. (His family moved to Stoneybrook from Louisville, Kentucky.)

  “Hi,” I said. “How are you?”

  “Almost thawed out,” he said. “Dad and I were chopping up the ice on the driveway.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “Think so? We should have invited you over.”

  “Yeah, I could have cheered you on!”

  “Big help.” Logan laughed. “What’d you do today?”

  I wanted to tell him. I almost blurted it out. But I really wanted to wait and let him see it. “Um, Logan? I have a surprise for you.”

  I heard a faint click. I figured Hunter or Kerry (Logan’s sister) probably picked up the other line at his house.

  “Surprise? What is it?” Logan said.

  “I can’t tell you,” I answered.

  Then I heard Dawn’s voice. “Some surprise!”

  “Dawn?” I said.

  “Sorry,” she replied. “I picked up the other extension by —”

  “What do you mean, some surprise?” Logan insisted.

  “Well, it’s just —” Dawn began.

  “Dawn!” I warned.

  “It’s not that earth-shattering, Mary Anne,” Dawn said. “I mean, we all get haircuts.”

  “A haircut?” Logan piped up. “You got a haircut?”

  I could not believe what was happening. “Dawn, I wanted to show him!”

  “Oh,” Dawn said. “Sorry. ’Bye, Logan.” The phone clicked again, and she was gone.

  Sorry was about the last thing she sounded.

  “What happened?” Logan pleaded. “Did you do something crazy, like cut it all off?”

  “Well,” I said, “not all.”

  “But it’s real short, right?”

  “Yeah, but —”

  “Why did you do it?”

  I couldn’t keep my feelings to myself anymore. “Why is everyone so upset about this?” I cried. “I was so happy! I couldn’t wait to show you! Now I feel like I did some awful thing.” Tears welled up in my eyes.

  “Oh, Mary Anne, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like that,” Logan said. “It’s just a shock, that’s all. I can’t wait to see it. Can I come over first thing tomorrow?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I — I have to go now.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you around nine-thirty.”

  “Okay. ’Bye.”

  “ ’Bye.”

  I hung up, half-expecting myself to burst into tears. That would have been the old Mary Anne’s usual response. But my eyes were dry. I was annoyed. Annoyed? I was actually angry. How could Dawn be so rotten?

  I decided I’d go into my room and wait for her to apologize. And if she didn’t, fine. I had no desire to say another word to her, anyway.

  I did talk to Dawn that night. I asked, “Where’s the toothpaste?” (I had to. She had brought it into her room by mistake.) But that was it.

  We kept our distance on Sunday, speaking to each other only when necessary. Dawn did not apologize or even mention what had happened the evening before.

  The good thing was that Logan did come over that morning. And guess what? He said he loved my hair! Boy, did that make me feel better.

  Well, the count was in my favor: three for my new look (four including Tigger) and one against. But Monday would be the big test. The whole world would finally see the New Mary Anne.

  Well, at least SMS would.

  On Monday morning I put on some makeup. No, I don’t ever wear makeup to school, but I thought I’d try just this once. Then I brushed my hair and used a tiny bit of hairspray.

  Dawn was eating her whole-grain puffed cereal and lowfat yogurt when I sat down to breakfast. I broiled some bacon and made myself some sweet, gloppy French toast.

  (I wasn’t really doing it to be mean. That was what I wanted to eat, and I wasn’t going to bend over backward just because that stuff turns her stomach. Besides, she was almost finished eating.)

  I plopped my breakfast plate down at the table. A greasy piece of bacon slipped off. I picked it up and ate it.

  “Gross,” Dawn said.

  “Good morning,” I said.

  We left separately for school.

  * * *

  I had butterflies as I walked into SMS. I half expected the entire eighth-grade class to be in the lobby, waiting to laugh at me.

  But I got over that. I was very mature. I refused to be ruffled.

  “Ucccccchhh! What happened to you?”

  My ruffles came back.

  Just my luck. Of all the people to run into first, it would have to be Alan Gray.

  In case you don’t know, Alan is known by many as the Jerk of Eighth Grade (and that’s one of the nicer names). Why? Let’s just say maturity is not his strong point. Plus he’s been trying to get back at the entire BSC ever since he lost a bet to Kristy and had to be her personal slave for a week.

  “Hello, Alan,” I said calmly.

  “Well, at least they didn’t scalp off your voice box!” was Alan’s witty response.

  “No, they didn’t,” I replied, heading for the hallway. “See you.”

  The day was off to a wonderful start.

  I managed to escape to my locker without anyone else seeing me. But just as I opened it, I heard a wolf whistle behind me.

  Now I was upset. Hadn’t Alan said enough already? Why did he have to follow me? I turned around, not knowing whether to yell at him or cry.

  It was Logan.

  “Who’s the new girl?” he said with a smile.

  I smiled back. “Hi. You still like it?”

  “Love it. I still can’t believe how different you look!”

  With a straight face, I replied, “What was wrong with the way I looked before?”

  “No — I meant — well, you know —”

  “You thought I was ugly, and you didn’t tell me?”

  Logan had this hurt-puppy look on his face. He was taking me so seriously. “No! I didn’t mean that —”

  I couldn’t stand it any longer. I started to giggle.

  “Ohhhh, you’re in trouble.” Logan wrapped his arm around my neck, pretending to get me in a headlock. I ducked away, laughing. (Logan may be a semi-jock, but he’s gentle as a mouse.)

  Standing just to our left were Bruce Schermerhorn and Justin Forbes, two eighth-graders I know. Their jaws were practically scraping the ground. “Mary Anne Spier?” Bruce said.

  “Hi,” I replied.

  “Wow … hey,” Bruce said.

  Wow … hey? Well, he was smiling and nodding, so I guess that was meant to be a compliment. I said, “Thanks,” and linked arms with Logan.

  We walked together to my homeroom, which happens to be about twenty-seven miles away from my locker. Which meant we had to pass a lot of people on the way.

  Now, finally, was the Moment of Truth. The Great Unveiling.

  You know what? Some people didn’t even recognize me! Erica Blumberg kept giving Logan this suspicious glance, as if he’d found a new girlfriend. Shawna Riverson walked right by me.

  I’ll tell you when I really started feeling good. It was when Cokie Mason actually dropped her books and gasped. (Cokie used to have a major crush on Logan. She dated him, back when he and I ha
d split up.) “Hi, Cokie,” I said nonchalantly.

  “Wow, you look fantastic!” she exclaimed.

  Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all. She did give me my second Wow of the day.

  “Thanks!” I said.

  Well, “thanks” was the word I used most on the way to my homeroom. I felt like a movie star. Imagine, me, drab old Mary Anne! No one had ever fussed over my looks before. And now everyone was paying attention. One of the teachers even came out of her classroom to compliment me.

  To tell you the truth, it was a little embarrassing. Logan said my face was like a blinking red stoplight. But by the time we finally turned the last corner to my homeroom, I was enjoying myself.

  That was when I saw Claudia, Kristy, and Stacey. They were walking toward us, chatting. My heart started racing. I couldn’t wait to see the looks on their faces. “Hi!” I called out.

  Stacey looked up. “Hi, Mary Anne. Hi, Logan.” She raised an eyebrow. “It’s shorter than I thought. Did Joyce do it?”

  She didn’t seem surprised at all. “Yeah,” I said. “Um … did she mention it to you or something?”

  “No,” Kristy said. “Dawn did.”

  Ooooooh. It figured. I should have specifically told her not to say anything!

  Not that it would have mattered. She knew I’d wanted to surprise Logan, and that hadn’t stopped her.

  “I can’t believe you went to the hairdresser without us,” Claudia said, with a scolding sort of smile.

  “I’m sorry,” I replied. (I couldn’t help it, the words just flew out of my mouth.) “Well, what do you think?”

  Claudia and Stacey gave each other a Look. Kristy smiled and shrugged. “Mary Anne, you knucklehead … we said that cut wasn’t you.”

  Kristy was trying to sound as if she were joking, but she meant it. I knew that tone of voice.

  Some best friend.

  “It’s okay,” Claudia said.

  “It’ll grow out,” Stacey added.

  Funny, their comments were sort of mean, but they didn’t look mean. Their faces even showed a bit of sympathy. Sympathy! I think that was the worst thing of all. “Yeah,” I said. “I guess.”

  “Oh, well,” Kristy said, looking at her watch. “See you at lunch.”