“Ditto,” Avery said, eyeing me.
“Okay. Whew,” Joe said. “That wasn’t so bad, then. I guess maybe agreeing to do this was a good idea.”
I smiled at him and he perked up a little.
“Okay, now Avery,” I said. I couldn’t wait to read hers. She’d been pretty honest so far.
Name: Avery Kennar
What do you most want to change about yourself?
how people see me
Why do you want to change?
make friends, be more popular, get a boyfriend I’m crazy about
What do you think will be the hardest thing about transforming yourself into the you-est you that you can be?
Getting people to see me. It’s like I’m invisible. Even when I try to glam up, no one seems to notice. What am I doing wrong? How am I supposed to become more popular if no one knows who I am? I wish I knew the secret.
“Well, now you will,” Elinor said to Avery. “That’s what Madeline is going to share with us. The secrets. How she did it.”
“I’m totally ready,” Avery said. “I want to start now so I can have an amazing summer and start my junior year off a brand-new person.”
They all turned to me expectantly. Waiting for my Most wisdom.
After reading all their forms and listening to them, I knew what I had to do.
Return their money.
First of all, Elinor wanted to enter the Lobster Claw Teen Queen Pageant? That was Caro’s territory. So forget about helping Elinor win or even place. And Joe—what did I know about transforming a guy, anyway? Then there was Avery, who might be the hardest one, because she was actually kind of cute in a bland way. She just clearly had no confidence. How was I supposed to change that? In four weeks!
Do you want to get to California or not? I reminded myself.
“Can I ask you something?” Joe said. He was staring at me with puppy dog eyes and that hopeful smile.
“Sure.”
“Just off the top of your head, what would you say is the main thing I’m doing wrong? I mean, just by looking at me. Knowing that alone would give me my money’s worth.”
I read through his form again, then looked him over. He was very skinny and didn’t have much of a chin, but he had really nice blue eyes. His clothes were dorky—tucked-in striped polo shirt and weird-colored khakis. This was how he dressed on a Saturday? Or ever?
“Well, actually, Joe, I think we do need to start with the outside of all of you,” I said. “Makeovers change how you look on the outside, so you’ll feel better about yourself on the inside. That’ll give you all more confidence. Confidence is the key.”
At least, that was what Aunt Darcy had told me in Rome.
“So, Joe, untuck that shirt,” I said. “That will make a big difference.”
“But won’t I look sloppy? That’s what my mom says when I walk around the house untucked.”
“You won’t look sloppy at all. At school tomorrow, look at every guy you see. Tell me how many wear their shirts tucked in.”
He brightened with his social assignment.
I suddenly had an idea. “Experiment time,” I said. “Elinor, I’m going to switch outfits with you. Let’s go into the bathroom and change.”
Behind closed doors, we faced away from each other and traded tops. Elinor’s boring navy T-shirt with a pocket felt heavy after the pale yellow cotton tank top I’d just taken off. We exchanged bottoms—her dark gray track pants for my Sevens. Her sneakers were a little tight but I squeezed my feet into them. She took off her white socks with the dumb kiddie pom-poms on the backs and slipped into my favorite Caro castoffs, glittery and strappy flat metallic sandals that tied up the ankle.
The jeans could be a little tighter (Elinor was a stick), but she looked … better. Something wasn’t quite right, though. Maybe I needed to study her from more of a distance. “Okay, let’s go show everyone what we look like.”
When we stepped out, everyone was frowning. Elinor opened her closet door, where a full-length mirror hung.
“She looks cute, but I don’t know, those jeans just aren’t her. They’re too … something,” Avery said.
“Sexy,” I put in. “They’re a little loose, but she still looks hot in them. And that’s not a bad thing. We’re just not used to seeing Elinor that way.”
“Elinor isn’t used to seeing Elinor that way,” Elinor said. “Wow,” she added, glancing at herself in the mirror. “But there is no way I could ever wear something like this in public. It just isn’t me.”
“Isn’t that the point?” I asked. “To change your image?”
“Yeah,” Elinor said. “But I couldn’t just show up at school wearing these jeans and a skimpy little tank—no offense.”
“Okay, fine,” I said. “Then tell me how I look.” I faced everyone in the T-shirt and track pants and sneakers.
“Your hair doesn’t go with that outfit,” Elinor said. “You should pull it up in a ponytail.”
“But you weren’t wearing a ponytail, Elinor,” Avery pointed out.
“Exactly,” I said. “So there’s a mismatch going on between her hair and the clothes she wears. Now you’re seeing what everyone else sees.”
“You don’t look bad, necessarily,” Avery said. “Just like you’re going running.”
Elinor studied me. “But she’s not. I guess that’s the point too.”
“What was going through your mind when you put this on?” I asked her.
She eyed her closet. “I just wanted to be comfortable.”
“Is what you’re wearing right now comfortable?” I asked.
“Actually, yeah. Even the shoes are,” she said.
“So you could have chosen a cute tank top, trendy jeans, and cute sandals and you would have been just as comfortable and looked great instead of like you were going running.”
Elinor laughed. “I guess so. But I still couldn’t imagine picking this outfit for a Saturday hanging out at home.”
“I live on a farm and chose this outfit,” I reminded her.
“She has you there,” Joe said.
“Before I went to Rome, I never would have worn clothes like this. I’d see them in a store and think they were cute but I didn’t think I could wear them. My aunt helped me realize that you should wear what makes you feel good.”
“But my clothes do make me feel good,” Elinor said. “That’s the problem.”
That was a problem. One I didn’t have the solution to. Yet, anyway.
We changed back into our own clothes.
“I’m dying to know what you think I should do with myself,” Avery said.
I studied her. “I think if you wear the clothes, put on just a little makeup, like one coat of mascara and some lip gloss, you’ll look really polished.”
“The problem is that I can’t afford new clothes,” she said. “I spent everything I had on this class.”
“I can let you borrow a few things,” I said. “You can go through my closet next time.”
She brightened. “Really? Thanks.”
I nodded. “So, Joe, back to you. Come look in the mirror.” He leaped up. “Okay, see how much better that looks already? You never want to tuck a polo shirt in. I’ll pay closer attention tomorrow to what guys are wearing. But you should too.”
“Okay,” he said. “Improved already.”
“And your hair,” I said. “The part is too … parted. Try messing it up a little.”
He shoved his hand into his hair and gave it a vigorous shake. “Like this?”
“Hey, that looks good,” Elinor said. “Wow.”
“I’m not using hair gunk,” Joe said. “You weren’t about to tell me I had to, were you?”
Sigh. Thom used hair gel. “Totally up to you. Just a tiny bit can give your hair a little edge. Try it, really.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Maybe.”
“Well, I’d say our first class was a total success,” Elinor said, restraining herself from clapping. “Let’s celeb
rate with lunch. My mom is making something for us.”
Huh? No one had said anything about lunch. Or socializing past the agreed-upon hour-long meeting. “Um, Elinor, I’m actually meeting my friends, so—”
Elinor blushed. “Oh. Okay. Well, see you Wednesday, then. I mean, I’ll see you before Wednesday, like at the farm. And school. But you know what I mean.”
I was starting to feel kind of bad for her. Did I make her that nervous? She talked to me the way I used to try to talk to some of the popular kids at school, like Annie, when she blew me off. And like Thom that first day he spoke to me. That was weird—making someone feel that nervous.
“So where do you guys hang out?” Avery asked me nonchalantly as she dug around in her purse and pulled out a thin tube of lip gloss. “Besides the Coffee Connection and Yum’s and the stone bench in the atrium at school. Those are the only places I ever see you.”
“Those are our places,” I said. “We usually hang out at each other’s houses.”
“Oh,” she said, slicking on the dark pink lip gloss. “Is it always you and Caro and Fergie and Selena and Annie? You guys seem very tight. Do you ever hang out with other people?”
“Sometimes,” I said. “We have other friends, and sometimes we’ll end up with a really big group. But yeah, the five of us are close.” I wanted to get out of this room, out of this house, really bad. I made a show of looking at my watch. “Ooh, I’d better go. See you next time.”
I was heading down the path when Elinor came running after me. “Wait,” she said, handing me an envelope with my name on it. “There’s the first half. Two hundred dollars. I counted it twice. It’s all there. And you’ll have the next two hundred in two weeks—I promise.”
“Thanks,” I said, and tucked the envelope into my bag. It felt so good to have it, to know it was there.
Once I was on my way, I let out the deep breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
When I arrived at Yum’s, no one was there yet, which was weird, because I was ten minutes late. Elinor’s house was a fifteen-minute walk to downtown, but I hadn’t wanted to ask Caro to pick me up on her way. I glanced around the not-too-busy casual restaurant again. No sign of any of them. So I stood in the waiting area and checked my phone for texts. Just one, but a good one: Miss you. T.
Five minutes later, I was still standing there. Had I gotten the time wrong? Place? I called Caro’s cell, but it went straight to her voice mail. I left a message that I was there and waiting. Then I called Fergie’s cell. Straight to voice mail. That was definitely odd.
I waited another fifteen minutes and then tried both their cells again. Straight to voice mail. What was going on?
I turned to leave and stopped dead in my tracks. Caro, Fergie, Annie, Selena, and Morgan, Thom’s girlfriend before me, were heading into Coffee Connection across the street. Caro, Fergie, and Morgan were laughing as they went in. And Selena and Annie were deep in conversation steps behind them.
My stomach twisted with that creepy, scary, nausea-producing feeling. Had they forgetten about lunch? But why not answer their phones? They all checked their messages five times a minute. Why didn’t anyone call me back?
And what was Morgan suddenly doing with them? She and her cheerleader friends sometimes came to our parties, and we went to theirs, but Morgan had never hung out with us alone.
Caro was trying to tell me something. And I had no idea what.
Chapter 9
I called home to see if someone could pick me up. Since my mom and Mac were out in the pastures, Sabrina grumbled that she’d come get me.
Ugh. What I wanted was my mom. Or even Mac. They always gave me space when they could tell that something was wrong. Sabrina would demand to know what could be causing a frown in my perfect little life, and I wasn’t in the mood to get picked on. I’d told her to pick me up in front of the post office, around the corner from Yum’s and Coffee Connection. I didn’t want my friends to see me slinking out of Yum’s like a loser.
When I saw Sabrina behind the wheel of my mom’s Subaru, I darted out and around the corner and into the passenger seat.
“You get weirder every day,” my sister said, a cap made of hemp on her head. “Let me guess. A geek was coming toward you and you didn’t want to have to talk to her.”
“Whatever, I’m not in the mood,” I said, and stared out the window as she pulled away from the curb. What was going on with Caro? What was she trying to tell me? That hanging out with the farm freaks and daring to talk to Sam would get me iced out of the group?
“So what’s this about you helping the interns find their inner popularity?” Sabrina asked, digging in the console cup for a malt ball. She popped it into her mouth and crunched.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “They’re paying my way to Dad’s wedding.”
“Unbelievable,” she said around the malt ball. “An airline ticket to California costs what, five hundred bucks?”
“Three hundred something. They’re paying me four hundred to be safe.”
My sister took her eyes off the road to stare at me. “And what are you delivering for four hundred dollars? How to be more like you? God help them.”
“Now I won’t feel so guilty when I tell Dad I want to live with him,” I snapped. Uh-oh. I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud. Yet.
“Maddie, you’re delusional if you think Dad will let you live with him. All he cares about is Tiffany. You think she wants her teenaged stepdaughter emoting all over her precious fancy beach condo?”
“We’ll see,” I said confidently. But she could be right. If I didn’t ask, I wouldn’t know for sure. That made a difference between getting what you wanted and not: asking.
Sabrina did her trademarked head shake. “What do Mom and Mac have to say about this?”
“I haven’t mentioned it to them yet. And anyway, I’m just thinking about it. But I’m sure they’ll understand why I’m thinking about it. It’s not like I fit in here.”
“You don’t fit in,” she said. “Right.”
“At home, I mean. At the farm. At dinner. In the family room. You and Mom and Mac love the farm. Love getting woken up by roosters and sidestepping cow dung. You want to work with farm animals for life, Sabrina. And you guys are happy to talk about it all night long after spending hours grooming cows and raking poop. I want what I had in Rome with Aunt Darcy. I want to feel like that every day.”
“Like what?” she asked.
“Like … happy. Like waking up in the morning and jumping out of bed because I’m so excited to get up. Like going to bed feeling like someone sprinkled fairy dust on me because I’m so, I don’t know, fulfilled. I felt amazing there, Sabrina. I felt right.”
She was quiet for a moment. “That’s how everyone wants to feel, Maddie. That’s all anyone wants. You have to find it where you are. Running away to California isn’t going to change anything. Haven’t you ever heard that saying ‘Wherever you go, there you are’?”
“‘There’ has Thom.”
“Thom wasn’t in Rome when you felt so fulfilled and happy and right.”
“Duh, Sabrina, we weren’t a couple then.”
“I’m just saying he’s not going to make or break your happiness.”
“Whatever. I’m going to Dad’s wedding. I’m going to see Thom again and everything’s going to be just like always between us. Even if I don’t stay, we’ll reconnect and it’ll keep us going until he can fly to Maine or I can get back to California.”
She glanced at me with a raised eyebrow. “Maddie, come on. I’d be surprised if you two didn’t break up before the week was over. And I’m not saying that to be a bitch. I’m just being honest. You’re on opposite coasts. And both of you are sickeningly like rock stars in your little high school worlds. Neither of you will be single for long.”
“Unless we want to stay together,” I snapped. “Why would we break up? We’ve been together for two years, remember?”
“And you really think you�
�ll stay together forever?”
“I don’t know, yeah.”
“Maddie, do you really think Thom Geller doesn’t have a new girlfriend already? Homecoming princess or whatever? I just hate to see you banking your hopes on this big love reunion only to get hurt—especially after shelling out four hundred bucks to get there. It’s not like Daddy Dearest or Tiffassley will comfort you or give a flying fig.”
She was infuriating. If the car hadn’t been going so fast, I’d have jumped out. “First of all, it’s homecoming queen. And second, you don’t know anything about me or Thom, Sabrina, so just shut up about us, okay? I don’t have a new boyfriend. So what makes you so sure he has a new girlfriend?”
“Because guys are different than girls, my dear. You know it’s true, so don’t get all politically correct on me.”
She’s not necessarily right, I told myself. Thom texted me all the time. He was still my boyfriend. There was no homecoming queen in a pink bikini wrapping her arms around his neck right that minute. “Whatever, Sabrina. Anyway, Thom’s not the only reason I want to go to California. I do want to go to our father’s wedding. And I need to get away from the farm and from my fr—” I cut myself off.
“Your friends? Interesting. Too mean for you?”
Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. “Why am I even talking to you?”
“Because, Maddie, you know I don’t want to see my delusional kid sister get smashed to smithereens. I can’t stand your friends, but you’re not bad, most of the time.”
“Gee, thanks.”
She laughed and I rolled my eyes and stared out the window and stewed. God, she was unbearable and annoying.
But she also lived the life of the interns. She was one of them. She could actually be of use during this interminable car ride home.
“So enough with the lecture and tell me something, Sabrina. If you were paying me to help you become more like me, what would you really want to know?”
She turned onto Flying Point Road. Good, I’d be home and free of her in three minutes. “Can I make sarcastic comments or do I have to be earnest?”
The Mosts Page 7
