Heidi gasped. “Doreen! Oh my god, what happened to you?” Biz rushed to the door to see what the matter was, and when she caught sight of Doreen, she, too, cried out in surprise. But Doreen accepted their shock with a smile.
“May I come in?” she asked softly.
“Of course!” Biz said, stepping aside. Open-mouthed, the two roommates watched Doreen walk into the room and take a delicate seat on the sofa.
“Aren’t you going to close the door?” Doreen asked with a light laugh.
Overnight, the girl had transformed. No longer the awkward, lumpy person from the day before, Doreen was lithe and graceful. Her patchy skin had become smooth and lustrous and the frizz had gone out of her hair, replaced with gorgeous black curls. She blinked up at them, staring through long lashes with her piercing violet eyes: an exact replica of the girl in the picture Biz had touched up the previous evening.
“Well, I’m here to be outfitted,” Doreen said. She stood up and spun around. “Do you have a vision, Heidi?”
Regaining her composure, Heidi broke into a wide smile. This was going to work! Even the same army-green knit dress from the day before looked great on her. “Doreen, you look wonderful. Really. Let’s get you into some clothes, dear. Biz, close your mouth.”
Doreen smiled with her strawberry lips and let Heidi lead her into the bedroom. Biz stood frozen in her pajamas, unsure of what she had just seen.
“A vision,” said Biz, shaking her head in disbelief.
“It wouldn’t be lying, would it, if I didn’t mention certain things about my past?” asked Doreen. They’d managed to keep the conversation light for most of the walk to the cafeteria, but now their destination was in sight and Heidi could practically hear the sound of Doreen’s heart beating.
Heidi had some misgivings herself—they might be rushing things along a bit, but it was only lunch and they had to start somewhere. And the girl looked awesome. They’d chosen a simple sundress from Heidi’s own closet that made her look simultaneously girlish and sexy, nothing like the high school disaster from the night before. Heidi did not know how Doreen had managed it, but she felt confident that her own influence bore much of the responsibility for the transformation.
“I wouldn’t want to make something up. Or should I? I don’t know. Do I need some sort of story?”
“No need, my dear,” said Heidi reassuringly. “Your family is a known quantity around here. Everyone remembers Addison, and though Biz is strange, she is acceptable because of her name. Keeping your home life to yourself will only make you seem appealingly mysterious. That’s what I’ve done. I have never told a single lie about myself or my upbringing—I have simply kept mum. Reticence implies grandness, Doreen. You’ll see.” It was a lot for Heidi to admit. She hadn’t said anything specific, of course, but it was so unlike her to make even the vaguest reference to her modest background to anyone. She would admit that and more to Doreen if she would only ask. But the girl was too caught up in her own story to bother with Heidi’s.
“I’m sure you’re right.” Doreen squeezed Heidi’s hand. “Oh, thank you so much for everything.”
No matter, thought Heidi. There would be time.
“Here goes nothin’,” said Doreen.
“Nothing,” said Heidi.
“Now it’s time for everyone’s favorite back-to-school game, who got a nose job! I can’t help but notice something different about your face, Misha.”
“Lay off, Gordon.”
“I think she looks great. You look great, Meesh,” said Miyuki.
“I didn’t get a nose job, okay?”
“Sure, sure. Maybe your nose is just smaller than we all remember it.”
“Maybe it is!”
“Or maybe her face grew, but her nose stayed the same size.”
“Shut up, Frankie!”
“Yeah, Frankie, leave her alone. She’s obviously still recuperating.”
“Ugh! I hate you guys.”
“What do you think, Doreen? Oh wait. You didn’t know Misha before. Well, picture the same girl, with a less refined central canal.”
“Gordon, I am going to kill you.”
“Save me, Doreen! She’s fierce! Help! Help!”
Heidi was right. When they heard that she was a cousin to the Gibbons-Browns, no further questions were asked about Doreen’s background. They were tired of one another now, in their final year, and boys and girls alike regarded Doreen with enthusiasm, happy for fresh society. The boys were especially keen—suntanned, with new muscles from summers spent on boats, they were keyed up around the new girl like wind-up toys come to life.
“Misha, don’t be embarrassed. You look great. Truly! We’ve been waiting for you to do the snip for years. Doreen, she looks beautiful, doesn’t she?”
“What? Oh.” Doreen smiled and touched Misha’s hand. “You do. You are beautiful.”
“Huh? Thanks.” Misha blushed.
“See, Meesh? And Doreen here knows a thing or two about beauty.” Gordon held Doreen’s gaze for a moment. “Don’t you?” he said quietly. Then he returned to Misha. “Anyway, you needed something to go with your new rack!”
“That’s it. You’re dead.”
“Doreen! Help! She has the nose of an angel but the devil’s inside her!” He hid behind Doreen’s back, his hands on her shoulders, while Misha pelted him with bread. Doreen giggled.
Slight of build, Gordon Lichter had a lovely, almost girlish face with long lashes and blond hair that was always falling in his face. He was pretty and nonthreatening, like a boy pop star, and though he was not exactly a genius, he was not an idiot, either, and the family was lousy with dough. They had homes around the world, a private jet, a Park Avenue penthouse. A girl could certainly do worse, Heidi thought. She had briefly considered making a play for Gordon herself, but she was at least two inches taller than he was, five with heels, and neither would want to look ridiculous.
But Doreen was smaller than Heidi, and look at how flushed he was to be near her!
“That’s enough,” said Heidi. “Gordon, sit down. Misha, you look phenomenal. Besides . . .” She paused. She had the attention of the entire table. “Now you can finally drink from a mug!”
Everyone laughed, even Misha. Heidi stood up and gave Gordon a signal to sit in her seat beside Doreen, and he did her bidding. She moved to the other end of the table, engaging in limited conversation while watching Doreen out of the corner of her eye. She looked gorgeous, an absolute natural! What had happened to that awkward, pimply girl from the previous night? Look at how Gordon hung on every word, every gesture. Very promising, Heidi thought, encouraging him with her eyes.
And there was something else. The scene in the cafeteria was such an old one. Heidi might have closed her eyes and imagined it all ahead of time, like an old movie she’d watched too many times. But Doreen changed that. Just having her there introduced a new level of interest for Heidi. And it was such a relief. Heidi ate her salad, she watched Gordon flirt with her new friend, and she felt awake to her surroundings as if it was her first day, too.
Later, when they were safely outside the cafeteria, Doreen embraced Heidi. “That was the most wonderful time I ever had in my life! Thank you! Thank you so much!”
Did Heidi notice that where there had been rolls of fat only one night before there was now muscle and bone? Did she wonder how such a remarkable transformation was possible? If she did, it was for no more than a moment. She’d seen something exceptional in Doreen from the minute she laid eyes on her. That it was more available for everyone to enjoy, why would Heidi question that? Why would she want to? Her thoughts were not of the past, near or distant, but of the future.
“I have a good feeling,” said Heidi. “I think we are going to have a lot of fun together this year.”
With a smile, Doreen threaded her arm through Heidi’s and leaned her head
on her shoulder. They walked like that, side by side, all the way back to the dorms.
The introductory lunch had gone better than Doreen could ever have imagined. The Chandler Academy elite had smiled at her warmly, accepting her into the fold as Heidi’s friend and natural participant in the upper echelons of East Coast society. Like she belonged there all along! How unexpected! Returning to her room, Doreen’s happiness bubbled into laughter.
Doreen remembered the pride on Heidi’s face as she introduced her to one handsome boy and then another, to a flock of elegant, long-limbed girls. Life, so dark and hopeless to her once, seemed suddenly sweet and full of possibility. And she was beautiful now, too. She, Doreen Gray, was lovely. Was it still true? How? Certainly this must be a dream. But the full-length mirror reassured her. There she was, the stunning girl from Biz’s photograph, staring back from the glass. It was a miracle!
After she left her room that morning, she assumed she would never see that exquisite mirror-girl again. But the shock on Biz’s and Heidi’s faces when they saw her confirmed what she’d seen in the mirror was no temporary hallucination. They saw it, too. And at lunch the kids treated her differently. Of course, traveling beside Heidi had its benefits, but this was something deeper than that. When you were beautiful, people wanted to be near you. You could be interesting without saying a word. When you were beautiful, the world stepped aside to let you pass. How marvelous life would be now, Doreen thought as she admired the way her borrowed dress came in at her waist. Sad little Doreen Gray was a thing of the past; replaced by this resplendent thing, a lovely girl, a beauty.
But she didn’t have all day to stare at herself; she had to get ready for Gordon Lichter. He’d invited her for a tour around campus. Gordon looked like a boy from a movie! A boy like that would never have smiled at the old Doreen. He would not have studied his own lovely fingers, embarrassed to be in her presence.
“Good riddance,” Doreen said aloud. She plucked the photograph of her former self off her desk and was about to rip it up, but then something made her want to keep the picture around—as a reminder of the pathetic creature she had once been. Carefully, she replaced the picture in the nightstand drawer. Knowing how far she’d come would make her glory even sweeter. She would keep the picture for herself, and only herself. It would be her delicious little secret.
“A shopping trip? In New York?” Doreen blinked, trying to comprehend the suggestion. Heidi’s perfectly done face loomed over her bed. It was early enough to seem like it might still be night. “Right now?”
“Why not?” said Heidi. “It’s Saturday. If we leave soon we can just go for a day and be back by tonight.” She tossed a Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress onto the bed. “Put this on. I’ll do your hair. Up, I think. You need to look older and comfortable and sophisticated.”
“But Heidi, I don’t have money for that.”
“You think you can scrape together bus fare?”
“I suppose.”
“That’s all you’re going to need, my pet. Now up and at ’em. I want to get to the shops by eleven if we can.”
The two girls spent the bus ride huddled together studying fashion mags. Once they arrived at Port Authority, Doreen blinked into the bright lights, disoriented by the complexity and tumult around her. She had not been to New York since she was a girl, but Heidi was a sure guide. They made quick passage through the station and down into the subway.
“Where are we going? Uptown?” Doreen asked, squinting at a map.
“Naturally,” Heidi said with a wink. “Come on!” She pulled Doreen through the turnstile on a single swipe of her card and they hopped on a train.
The shops Heidi referred to were not of the department store variety, nor designer boutiques or chain stores. They were thrift stores—charity shops on the Upper East Side.
“You see,” she explained as they walked arm in arm down Third Avenue, “Upper East Side ladies have the most luxurious clothes and the largest closets and the most attentive staff, probably in the universe. They spend gobbles of dough, wear everything once, then toss it to make room for next season’s must-haves. These foundation stores are here to help the ladies feel worthy for discarding their barely used designer duds. It’s win-win.”
“But Heidi,” said Doreen, “even if it’s cheaper than the stuff in the stores, I really don’t have any extra—”
“Don’t worry about it. Look.” Heidi pulled Doreen away from the center of the sidewalk. She stopped and, looking into the rearview mirror of a parked Mercedes, reapplied her lipstick and fixed her hair. She gave Doreen the lipstick and gestured that she do the same.
Heidi felt the adrenaline rush through her. As many times as she had made the rounds through the Upper East Side charity shops, she had always been alone. She hid her familiarity with things like thrift stores and buses and subway systems from normal Chandler society. But she would share it with Doreen. She would show Doreen everything she’d learned.
“All you have to do is seem moneyed and bored, like you’re not impressed. I’ve got the honking Louis Vuitton and you’ve got my giant fake Chloé. If you see something you like, just be quick-wristed and unafraid. I’ll show you. It’s easier than you think.”
“This bag is a fake?”
“What? Yeah. But a good fake, isn’t it? Tell anyone and I’ll have you eliminated. Now be cool and follow my lead.”
“Okay.”
Heidi resumed her quickstep toward the first stop.
“Wait. Wait! Heidi!” Doreen called.
Heidi stopped and waited for Doreen to catch up.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to, but . . .” Doreen pulled Heidi aside. “So are we stealing from charity shops? Is that the plan here?”
“Ha! Charity shops? No! That’s outrageous. These aren’t really charity shops. See that place right there? The Arthritis Foundation?”
“Yeah.”
“Their gala is next week. Just getting in the door costs over a thousand dollars a person. Famous people go. There’s a silent auction. Sting played last year. What I’m saying is, it’s not like we’re taking food out of the mouths of the needy.”
But Doreen just shook her head. “I don’t know. It seems wrong.”
Doreen shifted from foot to foot and looked around at the passing traffic. She was uncomfortable, that was plain. Heidi had not considered the possibility that Doreen would not have what it took to participate in her innermost inner circle. And now it was too late. She’d exposed herself. Clueless, naïve Doreen would now be armed with information—about who Heidi Whelan really was and what she was capable of, namely shoplifting, posing, acting as if. Deployed to the right channels, that information could prove very detrimental to Heidi’s social position. Doreen had to participate. That was the only way. Otherwise Heidi could lose everything.
An elegant woman clicked by in skinny jeans and a glittery top, led by three Pomeranians. Doreen stepped aside to let her pass, and Heidi saw her straighten her posture slightly. She even turned and watched the woman after she’d gone by. Heidi smiled, exhaled. Anyone could see the longing in Doreen’s face. That woman had stepped right out of Roland Gibbons’s world. But it could be their world, too. Doreen and Heidi’s.
“I hear what you are saying, I do,” said Heidi, taking Doreen’s arm. “But, Dorie, you want to excel at Chandler. Socially, I mean. Don’t you? That’s what I thought. The unfortunate truth is that all entrances into high society are very closely guarded. That’s the bad news. The good news for you and me, Doreen, is that the guards are superficial, but stupid. It is easy to get past, the only requirement is that you look the part. So, the way I think of it, the Arthritis Foundation is making a kind of unknowing investment in me. By giving me the trappings of wealth, they are making it possible for me to join the ranks of high society. So that one day, when I’m an adult, I can spend the five grand or whatever may be required to don a desi
gner gown and help the suffering millions. Make sense?”
“I guess.”
“Plus, it’s fun. Trust me.”
“But, wait, sorry, just one more question. If we are just going to steal the stuff, why come here? Why not just go to Bloomingdale’s or something?”
Heidi sighed. “First of all, I would never go to Bloomingdale’s. Second, these places have the same designer labels as the best stores, but everyone in there is a volunteer. There is practically no security at all. It’s so easy, Doreen, you’ll wonder why everyone doesn’t do it. Now let’s go. We have a lot to get to today.”
Doreen resumed her pace beside Heidi. “Hey, you know what? I’m happy to go along. Seriously, you’ll get no judgment from me. But maybe I’ll just observe for a while. Would that be okay? I’ll just browse and not, like, take anything.”
The girl’s resolve had shaken, but she would go along with the program, all right. Heidi was sure of that.
“Do what you want, Doreen. Just be quiet about it, cool?”
“Yeah. Right. Cool. You got it.”
The clothes. The shoes. The scarves. Everything was so, so tempting. And Doreen looked perfect in everything.
“We’ll donate, won’t we? When we’re older,” said Doreen as they walked between the Cancer Foundation and AIDS Research, her step swinging from the mint-condition Roger Vivier heels she’d worn out of the store.
“Oh, we’ll save the world, Doreen,” Heidi said. “We just need a little boost first.”
“Doreen, you are a natural. Better than I ever expected. You see,” said Heidi, “when you look and act like you are in your rightful place, you are treated accordingly. It is simply the difference between feeling grateful and feeling entitled.”
Doreen and Heidi sat at a little table in the lobby of the Ritz-Carlton hotel. Their haul of stolen clothes surrounded them, in shopping bags from real designer boutiques. Heidi had brought the bags along to transport their loot and add to the overall effect. And it worked. The girls looked exactly like a pair of society ladies relaxing after a tiring day of shopping.
Doreen Page 5
