“We have to hit Nordstrom,” she says. She grabs my locker door and swings it out, almost hitting me in the face. “Devi, where’s your mirror?” She frowns.
“I don’t have one,” I say.
“You don’t have one? Why not?” She runs her hands through her hair and pulls a small mirror out of her purse. “Never mind, we’ll get you one today.” She runs her tongue over her braces and smiles at her reflection.
“Listen, I have to be home by six,” I tell her. I slam my locker door shut. The metal makes a clanging noise that reverberates through the hall.
“That doesn’t give us much time,” she says, frowning. “Why do you have to be home so early?” She leans in close to me and lowers her voice. “Is everything okay with your parents?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Everything’s totally fine.” In fact, last night my parents stayed up until after midnight, watching DVDs and giggling in the family room. I know this because I was still awake and I could hear them all the way upstairs. It was nice of Lexi to ask, though, and I realize how cool it will be to spend time alone, just the two of us, without having to worry about anyone else being around, saying things that could cause problems. Not only is this whole lie causing problems in my friendship with Mel, but with Lexi also. I swallow around the lump in my throat.
“Cool,” Lexi says. “So why do you have to be home?”
“Because Luke is coming over to work on our project,” I tell her. I don’t tell her my mom is sketched out because she thinks Luke might be my boyfriend.
“Fun,” Lexi says, rolling her eyes. “I gotta get to homeroom.” She flounces off down the hall, her hair bouncing behind her and her skirt flouncing. Lexi is very flouncy.
“Where were you this morning?” Mel asks me later in study hall. “I waited for you by my locker.” Crap. I totally forgot that I was supposed to meet Mel this morning. That’s the second time in two days I’ve forgotten about her.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell her. “I got to school late and I was rushing around to make it to homeroom on time.” Which isn’t actually that much of a lie. I did get to school late. My mom had to drive me because I missed my bus. I’m still struggling to keep my eyes open after my late night.
“That’s okay,” Mel says. She pulls open her binder and takes out a sheet of paper. “Did you work on the English assignment?”
“No,” I say. “I didn’t get a chance to start it last night. I was busy planning some of my social studies project.” And looking for clothes to wear until really, really late.
“Oh,” she says, looking a little disappointed.
“But we can work on it now,” I say, pulling out my book. “It probably won’t be that hard.”
“Cool,” she says, pulling out her English anthology. “Did you get a chance to write in the notebook?”
I pull our BFF notebook out of my bag and hand it to her. I finished the note I had started writing to her in study hall last night. It was one of the things I did while staying up super late. I wrote her a really nice note, talking about how much I appreciated everything she’s done for me lately. Of course, I kept a lot of it deliberately vague, since, you know, I wouldn’t want it falling into the wrong hands.
“Thanks,” Mel says. She slips it into her bag just as Brent Madison walks by our table.
“Hey, Melissa,” he says, nodding his head at her as he goes by. He’s with his friends James Johnson and Brad Button, and they nod at us as well. They’re all in their football jerseys, since our school has a game tonight.
“Hey,” Mel squeaks back. A stunned look comes over her face.
“Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod!” I shriek once Brent is out of earshot. Melissa has had a crush on Brent since, like, forever. Last year at the sixth-grade dance she spent the whole time obsessing over whether or not she should ask him to dance. She finally decided to go for it, except by then, Brent was gone. We found out later he had to leave early because he was going on a family vacation the next morning. It’s still one of Mel’s biggest regrets.
“That’s the first time he’s ever said hi to me,” Mel says, looking shocked.
“That’s crazy,” I say. “And he gave you the nod, too.”
“The nod?” Mel asks.
“Yeah, the head nod that goes with the hi,” I say. “And it was the good kind of head nod.”
“The good kind?” Mel is starting to look dazed. I hope I’m not overloading her with too much info.
“Yes,” I explain. “See, if a guy gives you a nod when he says hi, it depends on which way he moves his head if it’s good or not. If he moves it up, it means he’s doing it in a flirty way. If he moves it down, it means he’s just doing it to be friendly.”
“And he moved his head up?” Mel asks, twirling a strand of hair around her finger and looking thoughtful.
“Yes,” I say.
“And how do you know that means it’s flirty?”
“I read it in CosmoGIRL!” I report. In addition to the romance novels, I read a lot of magazines this summer. Lexi and I would walk to the drugstore near her house and buy every magazine we could get our hands on, along with sodas and bags of chips and Swedish Fish. Then we’d hang out on my grandma’s porch for hours, reading, talking, and eating our snacks.
“But what if—”
“Hey, Devi,” Kim says, sitting down next to me at the long table. Oh. I totally forgot she was in this study hall. Probably because she never speaks to me. “What’s going on?” She’s wearing long white flared pants and a long-sleeved emerald green shirt that says ROCKSTAR on it in gold lettering. She also has what appears to be purple glitter on her eyes. My mom won’t even let me wear makeup, much less purple glitter. I wonder what Kim’s mom is like. Probably like Paris Hilton’s mom. Very glam.
“Not much,” I say, finally remembering to use my Devi voice, even though I’m slightly surprised that she’s speaking to me. Not just because she’s Kim, but because she was so frosty to me in the caf the other day. Maybe she has multiple personality disorder. That could be why all the guys want her. Isn’t that what they say? That guys want someone who keeps them guessing?
“I’m psyched for tonight,” Kim says. She flips her long hair behind her back and blinks at me. Sparkle, sparkle.
“What’s tonight?” I ask.
“We’re going to the mall,” she says. “You, me, and Lexi.” She glances at Melissa, who opens up her English book and pretends to be reading. I can tell she’s just pretending because her eyes are not moving across the page.
“Oh,” I say. “I didn’t know you were coming.” What is it with these people and making plans? And how does word travel so quickly? Is there some kind of communication chain? And if so, how do I get plugged into it? I’m disappointed that Kim’s coming. Not only will it be trickier because of the whole Jared lie situation, but I was looking forward to hanging out with Lexi by myself.
“Yup,” she says. “Lexi invited me this morning. I totally need to get my nails done.” She puts her hands out and studies her fingers critically. She’s wearing a perfect coat of purple sparkly nail polish, which matches her purple sparkly eye glitter. I wonder if she has different colors of glittery polish and shadow to match her different outfits.
“Cool,” I say. “It should be really fun.”
“Yup,” Kim says. “It will be. Just the three of us.”
Mel’s nose twitches, but she keeps her face in the book and her nonmoving eyes on the page.
chapter six
“Try this one,” Lexi says, handing me a bright red lip gloss. It’s after school, and I’m in Sephora with her and Kim, trying out different shades of lip gloss. The cool thing about Sephora is that you can try everything in the store, so you never have to worry about stuff looking silly on you.
‘Are you sure?” I take the tube from Lexi and smear the gloss on my lips. I peer into the mirror over the display. I look like a clown.
“Um, that would be a no,” Kim says, handing me a tissue.
&
nbsp; “Thanks,” I say, wiping it off and wondering if she meant that in a mean way. Even so, shopping with Lexi and Kim is FUN. First, we stopped at Bavarian Pretzel and got orange freezies to carry around with us as we shopped. Then we went to Nordstrom, where Lexi bought three pairs of capri pants (which doesn’t make a lot of sense since it’s fall, but they were on sale and she swore she would regret not buying them when the weather got warm) and Kim bought a pair of jeans.
We hit the arcade and DDR’d for a little while, and then went to Old Navy, where I got two pairs of jeans and three shirts that are wicked cute. The best part is that I still have about seventy dollars left over.
“This one’s better for you,” Kim says, handing me a pink sparkly color. I put some on and inspect myself in the mirror. She’s right. Much better.
“I can’t decide between ‘Twinkled Pink’ eye shadow and ‘Ice Storm,’” she says, frowning at the two containers in her hand.
“Better get them both,” I instruct, figuring it’s what Devi would say.
“Good thinking,” Kim says, nodding in agreement. “After all, there’s nothing wrong with splurging if you know you’re going to be hanging out with someone special.”
“Right,” I say, not sure what she means by that. Is she talking about this weekend? Does Kim like Jared? I decide not to worry about it. I have my hands full trying to keep Kim from saying anything that would lead Lexi to believe that we’ve never hung out before. It actually hasn’t been that hard, and there was only one close call, when we were in Old Navy and Kim was all, “What size are you?” while she was helping me look for a certain pair of jeans I wanted and Lexi was like, “Don’t you know?” like she figured Kim and I go shopping together all the time. And then Kim gave this sort of puzzled look, and I quickly said, “I’m not sure what size I wear here. This store always runs big for some reason,” which seemed to satisfy Lexi. I’m glad Kim doesn’t seem too interested in getting to know me, because it would be super weird if she started asking a bunch of questions like, “Where do you live?” or “What’s your screen name?”
“Do my lips look plump?” Lexi demands now, pouting them out at us. She’s put on two coats of lip plumper, and her lips look like Angelina Jolie’s.
“Yes,” I say honestly.
“I’m getting it,” Lexi says, dropping it into her basket.
After we check out (Lexi spends $47.58, Kim spends $63.24, and I spend $7.14), we still have an hour before Lexi’s mom is supposed to pick us up.
“Should we DDR again?” I ask hopefully. I’m planning on taking my dad to DDR soon and I want to make sure I’m in top DDRing shape so I can impress him with my skills.
“I’m bored with DDR,” Kim says, rolling her eyes.
“We could go to the bookstore and have a latte,” Lexi offers.
“No,” Kim says forcefully. “We’re getting manicures.” She marches off in the direction of the nail salon. Lexi and I look at each other, shrug, and then follow.
“Aren’t you gonna get your nails done, Devi?” Lexi asks me once we’re in the salon and she and Kim have picked out their nail polish (pink sparkles for Lexi and a bright yellow for Kim.) She takes a seat on one of the plush leather stools in the salon and hands the bottle of polish to the nail technician.
“I don’t think so,” I say, trying not to breathe through my nose. The salon doesn’t smell very nice. It smells like chemicals.
“Why not?” Kim asks.
“I didn’t bring enough money,” I lie. I do have enough money left over, but I don’t think my mom would be too pleased if I spent her money on a manicure. She gave me the money herself, out of the money her new business has made, and I know she was really proud that she was able to do that. So I’m not going to abuse it. Besides, she’s going to look at the receipts. I know this because she said to me, “Make sure you bring me the receipts.”
“So, anyway,” Kim says to Lexi, “I didn’t want to have to tell him, but there was no way he was going to be able to ask her out. I mean, she is soooo out of his league.” She rolls her eyes.
I have no idea who or what Kim is talking about. Kim and Lexi are sitting at adjoining nail stations and I’m sitting on one of the hard plastic chairs in the waiting area, so it’s kind of hard for me to join in the conversation. I consider pulling a chair up behind them so that I can hear them better, but I’m not sure if that would be lame or not. I pluck a People magazine off the stack on the table and pretend to be totally engrossed in an article about some country music singer I’ve never heard of.
“You did the right thing,” Lexi tells Kim. “She is so totally out of his league, and you saved him a ton of embarrassment.” Kim nods seriously. Who are they talking about? And how does Lexi know this? She’s only been here a few days! Totally not enough time to be an expert on the social hierarchy of Robert Hawk Junior High. Plus she thinks Jared and I are together, so she’s obviously not that good at picking out perfect matches.
“You okay over there, Devi?” Kim asks, raising her eyebrows and glancing over her shoulder.
“Of course,” I say I throw the People magazine down and pick up a book of hairstyles.
“Ooh, Devi, are you going to get your hair cut?” Lexi squeals. “That would be fab.”
“No,” I say. But then I remember that while Devon doesn’t necessarily get her hair cut on a regular basis, Devi is probably always at the salon, getting her hair styled and cut. “Well, actually, yes, at some point. But not today.”
“Why not?” Kim asks. “We have time. And besides, it’s not like they’re busy” She tilts her head toward the other side of the salon, where three hairdressers are standing around, seemingly with nothing to do.
“Not today,” I say.
“Whatev.” Kim shrugs her shoulders and turns back to Lexi. “Anyway, I think Jared likes you.”
“What do you mean?” Lexi asks, frowning. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Okay, Devon. Don’t panic. Remember what happens when you panic.
“I think he likes you,” Kim repeats. “I can tell by the way he looks at you.”
Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic. All I need is to get them off this topic. All I need is some kind of distraction. All I need is …
“I think I will get my hair cut after all!” I exclaim, jumping out of my chair and running over to where Kim and Lexi are sitting. I throw the book of hairstyles down on Lexi’s nail station and start flipping through the pages like a madwoman. “What do you guys think? Bangs? Or maybe layers? How short? I don’t think it should be too short, because I still want to be able to put it in a ponytail. Although a little off the bottom might be okay, because—”
“You,” Kim declares, interrupting me, “need long layers. And some blond highlights around your face.”
“Oh, no,” I say, starting to get a weird feeling in my stomach. “No highlights, thanks. I only have sixty dollars.” And my mom would disown me.
“I thought you didn’t have any money,” Kim says, blinking her sparkly eyes at me.
“I had more than I thought,” I lie. “But highlights are going to be way more than that.” Aren’t they? I think highlights are around a hundred dollars. At least, that’s what they always pay on TV for a decent color. I saw it on a Sex and the City rerun. Which I wasn’t supposed to be watching.
“You just get the top done,” Lexi says. “It’s like fifty bucks and it doesn’t take as long.” She puts her hand in my face. “What do you think about this color? Is it too pink?”
“Um, I don’t think so,” I say.
“It totally is,” Kim says.
“Hmm,” Lexi puts her hand back down on the table. “I think I might want to change my color.” The nail technician nods and pulls out a bunch of tiny bottles of polish. Lexi studies them critically.
“Excuse me!” Kim yells over to the hairdressers on the other side of the room. One of them, a very tall woman with black hair, comes rushing over. Her nametag says, LUCINDA. “Hi,” Kim goes on. “My friend here”�
�she points to me—“would like to get her hair cut and some blond highlights, just around the top.”
“Certainly,” Lucinda says, all businesslike. “Come with me.” She produces some sort of black cape as if she’s a magician and ties it around my shoulders.
“Actually,” I start to say, “I’m not—”
“And a shampoo, too, please,” Kim calls after us. I see Lexi nod in agreement.
Lucinda plops me down in a chair, leans my head back and, before I can protest, starts running warm water over my hair. I want to tell her to stop, but it feels too good. Nothing like when I get my hair cut at the Hairport near my house. Lucinda pulls a bottle of yummy-smelling shampoo off the shelf over my head and starts rubbing it into my scalp. Mmm. Relaxing. Maybe I’ll just take the shampoo and then I can tell her I changed my mind. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. I’m already in the middle of getting my hair washed, anyway, so it’s not like I can stop her. That would be rude, pulling up my big, soapy head. Not to mention a total mess. I’ll just take the shampoo and then tell her. Mmm. Feels good. But I’m definitely stopping. Really, I am.
An hour later, I leave the salon with a newly shaped haircut, blond highlights, and no money.
“Devon Nicole Delaney!” To say my mom is not pleased with my new look would be putting it mildly. “We’re going back. You’re getting it fixed.” She grabs her keys and her wallet off the counter and turns to Katie, who’s sitting on the living room couch. “Katie, get dressed. We’re going to the mall.”
“The mall, the mall, the mall,” Katie sings. She stands up and twirls around. “I love the mall. And I am dressed.”
“Then get your shoes on.” Katie runs off.
“Mom, this is not a big deal,” I say, trying to sound mature in an effort to deal with her reasonably. “It’s just a few highlights.” I am in love with my new haircut. Seriously, I don’t know why anyone would get an extreme makeover when they can just go to Lucinda. I feel like a whole new person. Which is a strange choice of words, given the fact that I’ve been living someone else’s life. But maybe this is the life I was supposed to lead. Maybe I was supposed to be A-list this whole time and I just needed an excuse to let the new, better Devon out. Like those people who lose a ton of weight and then claim their new thin selves are the person they were supposed to be. You’d think my mom would realize this because she watches so much Oprah.
The Secret Identity of Devon Delaney Page 7
