by Joanne Levy
I seriously doubted it. But I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. I stuffed a handful of chips into my mouth and started the movie.
A few hours later, after Alex’s parents showed up to take her home, I was vegging on the couch watching a repeat of ANTM (Cycle 10, one of my faves) when I heard Dad come home.
And I didn’t need my dead grandmother to tell me it was another horrible date. It was written all over Dad’s face.
“Oh no,” I said, muting the TV.
“‘Oh no’ is right,” said Bubby, who’d obviously chaperoned.
Dad dropped heavily onto the couch beside me.
“I think I’m done with dating, kid.”
“What happened?”
He sighed and rubbed his temple before telling me the following, “Well, I guess she’s newly divorced. As in very newly divorced.”
“And?”
He took a deep breath. “I thought I was being smart by letting her pick the restaurant, but what she didn’t tell me was that it was the restaurant she and her ex-husband used to go to.”
“That’s weird, isn’t it?”
“That’s not the half of it,” Bubby said.
“That’s not the half of it,” Dad said, almost at the same time. “She got sad about it and started talking all about her ex-husband and why he left her.”
“Why did he leave her?” I asked.
Dad looked at me and shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.”
Bubby was much more helpful. “His receptionist.”
Ah.
“Anyway, she was all weepy at the table, which was really uncomfortable, but then her ex actually came into the restaurant with his new girlfriend.”
Bubby provided more pertinent details. “Who’s half her age and twice her cup size.”
Oh!
“Dad, I’m really sorry.”
He looked up at me. “It’s okay. I’m just not cut out for the dating scene.”
I was suddenly very sad for him.
“Poor Martin,” Bubby said, obviously feeling as bad for Dad as I was.
“What about eHarmony?”
He cocked his head and looked at me through narrowed eyes. “What do you know about eHarmony?”
I rolled my eyes. “Dad, I’m twelve. Trust me, I’m not on the Internet trolling for a husband. I see it all over the TV.” And on cue, one of those sappy commercials with the nauseatingly happy couples popped on the screen.
Dad cringed. “I think I’m done for now.”
“Oy,” Bubby said with a sigh. “He’ll never get married again.”
I nodded. “I know.”
“You know what?” Dad asked.
Oops.
“I mean… I know you need a break for now, but maybe in a bit you can try one of those websites. I don’t want you to be lonely.”
He put his arm around my shoulders. “As long as I’ve got you, I’m not lonely.”
Something in his voice told me he wasn’t being completely honest. He was totally lonely. He knew it, my grandmother knew it, and I knew it.
But what to do?
Chapter 16
Returning to school on Monday was terrifying, not just because I was wearing one of my new bras (the white one), but because Andrew was there and KNEW I was wearing one of my new bras.
I tried not to look at him at all during first period, but it was hard not to. I mean, there was the matter of his cuteness AND there was still that thing about going to the dance. Were we or weren’t we? Alex of course wanted to go (because Sean was going to be her kind-of date), but I wasn’t so sure going with Andrew was still on the table. Even if he wasn’t deterred by my new bra-wearing status, I’d acted like a freak at the mall, and there was a good chance he wasn’t into going to the dance with a crazy person.
But then the bell rang and before I could get out of the classroom, he was there standing right next to me.
“Hi, Lilah,” he said.
“Hi, Andre… Andy,” I said back, feeling weird about calling him Andy, but he’d told me to. My heart fluttered a little.
“I’m looking forward to going to the dance on Friday,” he said.
I looked up at him, but his eyes were on my chest.
OMG!
Then I heard a voice, not a real voice or even a ghost’s voice but a little voice in my head that sounded a lot like Alex. “He’s impressed because he knows you’re wearing a bra.”
“Eyes up, Son,” Mr. Finkel said, sounding embarrassed.
My face heated up.
But then before it got really weird, Andy looked into my eyes. And his face got all red and splotchy. “Oh, uh, so Friday?”
“Friday,” I said. Because I didn’t know what else to say.
“I can get my mom to pick you up on our way.”
I shook my head. “It’s okay, I can meet you here.” But then I thought maybe not accepting the ride would make it seem like I didn’t really want to go with him. “Or, you can pick me up. Whatever, you know.”
He looked confused. “Which would you prefer?”
“I… uh…”
“Lilah,” my grandmother said out of the blue. “Tell him your father will want to drive you and that you’ll meet him at the dance.”
Grateful for the coaching, I said exactly that and exhaled when Andy smiled.
“Okay,” he said.
“Great,” I said.
“Great,” he repeated.
I picked up my backpack. “I gotta go.”
“Okay, bye, Lilah.”
Before I could fumble and embarrass myself again, I got out of there.
The second I was out in the hall, Alex, Tamsin, Anita, Sherise, and Fiona swarmed around me and then dragged me into the bathroom and into a stall so we could talk semiprivately. It was pretty crowded, but we squished in.
“You’re still going to the dance, right?” Alex asked.
I nodded.
Tamsin squealed.
Fiona had other things on her mind. “Show us your bra.”
I pulled up my shirt.
“Oh, it’s pretty,” Anita said.
“Thanks. My grandmother and Priscilla Lafontaine helped me pick it out.”
Fiona said, “Ohhh! Prissy Lafontaine? How cool is that?”
“I know,” I said, suddenly feeling pretty good about my bra-buying experience. I’d never heard of Prissy Lafontaine before, but that my friends knew who she was, and that she seemed to like hanging around me, was pretty darn cool.
“Maybe she can help the rest of us,” Anita said.
Alex looked Anita up and down. “You don’t need a bra.”
Anita pouted, but I said, “She needs one as much as I do,” which I think made Anita feel better, even if it was a bit of a white lie.
The bell rang, signaling the end of break. The girls rushed out of the bathroom, but I still had to pee so I stayed behind, risking Mr. Burrows being a little upset at my tardiness.
Afterward, as I was drying my hands, I heard a strange noise. I froze. Then I heard it again; it was someone crying.
“Hello?” I said.
No response.
“Are you okay?”
“Go away,” the girl said, sniffling.
I was undeterred. “What’s the matter?”
“Just go away, okay?”
I recognized the voice. It was Dolly. I stood there for a second, not sure what to do. I mean, my instinct was to help, but it was Dolly.
She kept on crying and I was thinking about leaving when finally the stall door opened. Her face was all red and blotchy. I was going to leave, but instead I handed her a paper towel.
“The fashion show is going to be a complete failure,” she said through her tears. “I’m going to have to cancel it. Some fund-raiser that turned out to be!”
“What? Why?” And why are you telling me this? I wanted to say.
“A bunch of the eighth-grade home-ec students bailed out on me for all sorts of ridiculous reasons. The dress rehearsal is on
Wednesday, and nothing will be ready! Oh, I’m such a failure!”
“Uh, you’re welcome, Lilah,” a voice said. A voice that sounded a lot like Rufus’s. “I told you revenge would be awesome!”
“You did this?” I whispered while Dolly sobbed into her paper towel.
“Yeah, you wanted me to. You wanted to get back at her,” he said.
He was right. I did want to get back at Dolly. But I didn’t want it like this. I didn’t want the whole fashion show to be a failure.
And now, looking at Dolly crying, I realized I really didn’t want to hurt her either. And ruining the fashion show was hurting her way more than tripping her in the bathroom. I never should have listened to Rufus.
“Go away,” I said as quietly as I could.
“No,” he said. “You wanted my help and I helped!”
“That was not helping! And I really want this fashion show to be successful!” I said, trying to be discreet.
“Oh, a fashion show. Everyone cares about their stupid fashion show. No one cares about me! Well, I’ll show you and your stupid fashion show!”
“Rufus?!”
But there was nothing but silence: he was gone.
Oh no, I thought. What have I done?
Dolly sniffled, bringing me back to the current crisis. I put my hand on her arm. “What can I do to help?”
She looked at me. “Really?”
I nodded. “Of course.”
She frowned. “After all I”—hiccup—“said to you?”
I swallowed my own guilt over what I did to her and figured we were probably even. I nodded again. “Yes.”
“That’s so nice of you. Are you sure?”
I’m not as nice as you think I am, I thought. “Of course I’ll help.”
She sniffled a couple more times and then said, “Can you sew?”
I opened my mouth to say no, but Ms. Lafontaine hollered out, “I CAN!”
“That doesn’t help us,” I said.
“What?” Dolly asked.
“Oh, uh…,” I stammered, not really sure if I should tell Dolly about my “abilities.”
But Ms. Lafontaine was not to be stopped. “I can sew, Lilah. I can help with the designs.”
“Dolly,” I said, looking straight into her eyes so she knew I was serious. “I want to help you, but I have to get to math class right now. Meet me in the cafeteria at lunch and I will explain everything and we’ll figure it out.”
She took a deep breath. “Thank you so much, Lilah. And I’m so sorry for being mean to you.” She looked down at the tattered paper towel in her hands. “I really am sorry.”
I patted her arm. “It’s okay, we’ll figure it out. But right now, I gotta go.”
She nodded and then before I was superlate, I ran out of there.
As I sat in math class, zoning out instead of working on the fractions that were on the board (ugh, WHO, please tell me, WHO can stand fractions?), I heard my name. Looking around, I realized it was Ms. Lafontaine.
“What?” I said softly.
“I am so excited to help you and your friends!”
The class was so quiet, it was going to be hard to have a conversation, so I wrote in my notebook:
How are you going to help?
“Well, maybe we can try something,” she said.
Like what?
“Maybe… Perhaps I can use your body.”
“No way,” my grandmother said so loudly that I jumped in my chair.
Mr. Burrows looked up at me.
“Leg cramp,” I said, cringing.
“But Dora, it’s the only way to get all the outfits done in time. Lilah said herself she can’t sew.”
Home ec isn’t until eighth grade.
“I don’t want you messing with her body,” Bubby said in her and that’s that tone.
“But how else can we get all the work done?” Ms. Lafontaine had a very good point.
I’m willing to try it.
“Not a chance,” Bubby said.
My body, my choice. I need to make it up to Dolly. And I need for the show to be awesome and make a ton of money.
“I won’t go against your grandmother’s wishes,” said Ms. Lafontaine.
Bubby, please. It’s the only way.
After several long moments, she finally agreed. “We will try it tonight, but if any harm comes to her, I’m calling it off.”
“That’s fair,” Ms. Lafontaine said. “Lilah, are you sure?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I am,” I said out loud, relieved.
And terrified!
Chapter 17
At lunch, while we ate (Miss Marion gave the chicken fingers the all clear), I filled Dolly in on my being a medium. Alex and the rest of the girls attested to the truth in my story. I would have proved it, but the cafeteria was noisy and a bit too public.
“So how are you going to help?” Dolly asked.
“We’re going to try to let Priscilla Lafontaine take over my body so that I can help you sew all the outfits.”
Everyone at the table gasped. Understandably.
“Wait,” Dolly said suspiciously. “Prissy Lafontaine? The mega-super-famous fashion designer?”
“Yep, the one and only!”
Dolly sat back in her chair. “Wow, she’s like… huge.”
“You can do that?” Fiona asked. “You can let her take over your body?”
“That’s scary,” Anita said, looking like she’d just eaten a bug.
“We’re going to try. What other choice do we have?” I asked Dolly.
She shook her head. “None. I hope it works.”
“Me, too,” I said, trying not to let on how scared I was.
“What about my model shortage?”
I looked around the table. “We can all model.”
Dolly smiled and looked at everyone. “You’d all do that? For me?”
“Sure,” Alex said. “That would be cool. We all want to be models, so it will be perfect, right girls?”
Everyone agreed.
Dolly’s eyes got all glassy, but before she could start weeping from gratitude, I asked her about the clothes. “Oh!” she said, opening her backpack. “I have sketches here.” She pulled out a big sketch pad and started showing us her designs.
“Not bad,” Ms. Lafontaine said. “Not bad at all. This girl has talent.”
I relayed the message to Dolly. She swallowed hard and had to dab at her eyes, but I could tell she was happy and who could blame her? “Thank you,” she said. “Please, Lilah, tell her thank you for me.”
I smiled at Dolly. “She heard you.”
It was going to all fall into place, just as long as I could become possessed and sew high-fashion outfits. Oh, and in two days!
Yep, no problem. Gulp!
Bubby said we couldn’t try the possession thing unless it was at my house in case anything went wrong, so Alex and Dolly came home with me and we went right up to my room. Dad wasn’t home yet, which was probably a good thing.
“Okay, let’s give it a shot,” I said, taking a deep breath.
“You should sit down,” Alex suggested, pointing at my bed.
“Good idea.”
I grabbed a pad and a pen off my desk and sat on the bed. I turned to an empty page. “Okay, Prissy, if you can take over my body, you can maybe try to write something.”
“Okay,” Ms. Lafontaine said. “Just try to relax and that will make it easier.”
“Lilah,” my grandmother said, sounding anxious. “You let me know if you are uncomfortable in any way, okay?”
“I will,” I said.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.
Chapter 18
When I opened my eyes, I was surprised to see Alex and Dolly sitting on my bed staring at me. Then I remembered what we’d been trying to do. I felt like I must have zoned out for a little while I waited for Ms. Lafontaine to take over.
“Sorry, I guess we won’t be able to sew all the outfits, after all.”
&nb
sp; Dolly blinked, her eyes all wide.
Alex did a double take. “Are you freaking kidding?”
My head ached a bit, so I rubbed my temple. “Kidding? What?”
“Lilah, look at this!” She held up the pad I’d grabbed off my desk. It was full of sketches of models and dresses, very intricate sketches. The kind I’d never have been able to make on my own.
“I did that?” I asked, taking the pad from Alex.
“Well, technically, we did it together,” Prissy said, her voice full of pride.
“Wow!” I was flabbergasted. “So if I can draw, I can sew.”
“We can!”
Dolly clapped her hands and then before I knew it, she threw her arms around me. “Oh, thank you, Lilah! Thank you so much!”
“You’re welcome,” I said. Then it was time to get to business. “Okay, girls, we have a lot of work to do. We should really get started.”
As it turned out I—while possessed by the ghost of the person I now realized was a fashion GODDESS—was a pretty good sewer, although I was never actually conscious while sewing. It was pretty amazing to “wake up” after a long session at Dolly’s sewing machine to see beautiful dresses that seemed to have just appeared. The only evidence that I even had anything to do with it was some aching in my hands.
I opted out of being a model, but with Anita, Fiona, Sherise, Tamsin, and even Alex helping out along with some of the eighth-grade girls, Dolly was fine without me. And anyway, it was probably best if I remained backstage with Ms. Lafontaine to help organize.
So the dress rehearsal should have gone fine. But when the girls started tripping as they walked down the catwalk, I knew something was up. Something otherworldly.
“Rufus! Stop whatever you’re doing!”
The only response I got was him laughing.
I failed to see the humor in him ruining the fashion show and maybe even hurting one of the models.
“Stop it! This isn’t about you!” I said. “Stop being such a rotten little boy!”
Just then, one of the big prop walls fell over, just missing Sherise and causing a loud BANG! Anita yelped and almost fell off the stage.
“Ha! This is so fun!” Rufus said. “I can’t wait until the real show.”
I couldn’t believe this was happening. Dolly came running out from backstage. “What’s going on?”
