by Marnie Lamb
“I know, but that’s not the point. I don’t ever want to make someone feel like she has to do a certain thing or act a certain way for me to like her. I won’t do it. Ever.” She sounded like she was making a vow about something far more serious than the Forces of Universal Destruction.
I tried to lighten the mood. “We did it all wrong anyway. The orgs shouldn’t be carrying swords. It’s too obvious. The Pippipalians would know they were enemies.”
She smiled but the smile melted like a Popsicle left out in the sun.
“Hey, Kal, what was that thing you did with the sand?”
This time her smile was genuine. “Oh, that’s a sandball.”
“I’ve never heard of a sandball.”
“It’s exactly like a snowball, except with sand. You have to get sand that’s not too dry or too wet, otherwise it falls apart. There’s a real art to making one, you know.”
“Where did you learn to make one?”
“At my grandfather’s cottage. My cousins and I used to go up there every summer.”
“That must’ve been fun,” I said. Most of my cousins lived in other provinces, and I hadn’t even met some of them. “Why did you start making sandballs?”
“Let’s just say I had to learn to defend myself,” she said tightly.
I started to say something more, but Kallie leapt up, dusting the sand off her rainbow bathing suit.
“We’ve still got most of the day left to enjoy!” she exclaimed. “Are you ready to go back in the water?”
I nodded. “You go ahead. I’ll be there in a minute.”
I adjusted my bathing suit and smoothed back my hair. As I watched Kallie bounding towards the shoreline, I felt like a sandball. Wet and round and crumbly. I was no longer Hilary Boles, famous entrepreneur, or Hilary Boles, mean stationary biker. I was Hilary Boles, the sandball of the Toronto beaches.
-8-
Mall Rats
As we were walking back to meet Kallie’s dad, cutting across some tennis courts to avoid the mean guys, Kallie said, “Try not to worry about what happened back there. Don’t let it bother you.”
I decided she was right. I was Hilary Boles, soon-to-be seventh grader at Mackenzie, and my life was going ahead according to plan. I was going to have the latest CDs and see the coolest movies. I was going to buy clothes at The Limit, whether my mom liked it or not. And I was going to walk into Mackenzie this September in shape and with a better haircut and not caring what some stupid boys with no chest hair thought about me, when there were hordes of worthier guys at school.
First things first. I had to take Kallie to the mall. Junior high was starting in less than a month, and she didn’t have a single thing to wear. It’s not that I wanted to change Kallie, exactly. There were plenty of things I really liked about her. But let’s be honest, I thought, some stuff needs work, like her sense of style. And who knows? She might love the clothes at The Limit. After all, she has the body for them.
Somewhat to my surprise, Kallie agreed to go, as long as it wasn’t on Wednesday because we were going to the planetarium that day, remember? We agreed on Tuesday.
As I was eating breakfast Tuesday morning, my mom asked, “What are you and Kallie doing today, Hilary?”
I ground my teeth. These past few months, anytime my mom and I talked about the mall, we ended up arguing. I’d tell her Lynn and I were going to the mall, and she’d say we spent too much time there and couldn’t we think of something else to do … nag nag. I wasn’t in the mood to argue, so I was about to snap back that we were going to the mall whether she liked it or not. But then something (and I’m not sure what, but maybe it was the thought of going to the mall with Kallie instead of Lynn) made me say pleasantly, “We’re going to the mall.”
“Have fun, then. Just be back in time for dinner,” she said, as she went out to the garden.
I stared after her, milk dripping from my mouth.
Kallie and I went to the mall closest to our neighbourhood. I felt that even though my mom had been in an incredibly good mood that morning, I didn’t want to tempt fate by asking permission to go downtown to the Eaton Centre, the mall to end all malls. As we got off the bus, my palms were sweaty. I really wanted this day to go well.
We heaved open the big heavy doors. I inhaled deeply. The aroma of freshly baked cinnamon buns wafting from a nearby bakery. Rock music pulsating from a CD store. A fountain spitting jets of water at the ceiling two stories above. And posses of teenage girls and guys swinging small Limit or Mr. CD Man bags. Oh yeah. This was the mall.
Turning to Kallie, I asked her where she’d like to go first, assuming she would say she didn’t care and would go wherever I wanted. But my plan was foiled.
“Let’s see.” She looked up at one of those big black maps you find in every mall entrance. “Oh! I’d really like to go to The Science Dude. I need a new set of Putrid Potions to experiment with!”
“Uh … all right.”
When we reached the store, Kallie tore inside, searching for her potions. I didn’t know she was so into science, but I supposed she got it from her mom. I shuffled around awkwardly, staying out of sight of the store’s entrance so no one walking by could see me.
I thought Kallie would be ready to leave once she’d chosen her potions. But no. She had to check out everything else in the store, examining packages, picking up toys and making them squeak. Once she tried on a pair of thick lab goggles and pursed her lips in and out, giving me a robotic wave from across the store. I shot her an annoyed look. Didn’t she realize this mall was the hangout for anyone who was anyone? I’d have to put a stop to these embarrassing displays before someone from school saw them.
When she finally emerged from the store, carrying two bags, I asked her again, out of politeness, whether there were any other stores she wanted to see. To my horror, she dragged me to a toy store and another science store.
“You know, this mall stuff isn’t so bad!” said Kallie, as we left Einstein’s Abode. By now she was carrying several brightly coloured bags of varying sizes. “I saw another store back there I’d like to look in. They had an intriguing mechanical sheep in the window.”
How many of these stores were there? They seemed to be multiplying!
“You know, Kallie, there are some stores I’d really like to go to,” I said quickly.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m doing it again, bowling right over you,” she said loudly. We stopped in a food court filled with plastic tables, plastic chairs, and plastic trees. At least ten people could hear what she was saying. I made noises to indicate she didn’t have to go on.
But she continued, “No, I promised myself I wouldn’t do it again and I won’t. I, Callisto Amonalisa Eadoin Foster, solemnly vow to you, Hilary Laura Boles, by that lofty tree” — she waved her arm wildly — “that I will try my best never to bowl you over again. This afternoon, we’ll go where you want. Lead the way!”
Three girls looked at us and snorted.
I took Kallie to Fashionisteen. Fashionisteen was only a semi-cool store, but I thought I should introduce her to the stores gradually to give her a chance to get used to the clothes. In Fashionisteen, I showed her a black miniskirt I liked.
“It’s nice,” she said nonchalantly.
“Why don’t you try it on? I bet it’d look great on you.”
“No thanks. But you can try it on if you like.”
Yeah right, I thought. I’m sure it would look lovely on someone with my shape. I sifted through the overstuffed racks and picked out a long white shirt.
“What do you think of this?” I asked, turning to her.
But Kallie was examining her potions. I had to clear my throat to get her attention. “Oh, yeah. That’s nice, too, Hil. It’d look good on you.”
O.K., so obviously she wasn’t interested in Fashionisteen. I took her to a couple of other stores, but she just wandered around or sat at the front, playing with the stuff she’d bought. She’s not interested in anything here, I fumed to myse
lf. This whole trip is a big waste of time.
As I stormed out of the last store, she hopped up to follow, asking, “Aren’t you going to buy anything?”
“No,” I said shortly. I strode up to a plastic tree and stood there, trying to catch my breath.
“Hilary, did you come here to buy clothes for you or for me?” I heard Kallie say.
I took a deep breath before turning around. “I thought you might like to look at some new clothes, something different from what you usually wear.”
“That’s nice of you, but I don’t shop at stores like that.”
“So where do you buy your clothes? Your mom can’t make all of them.”
“Well, sometimes I buy leggings and T-shirts from The Papaya Tree. All their fabrics are earth-friendly.”
No one shopped at The Papaya Tree.
“And Maxford’s has some pretty good stuff.”
Maxford’s! I couldn’t believe she’d said that out loud. I glanced around, but no one seemed to have heard.
“But just because I don’t wear those kinds of clothes doesn’t mean I think there’s anything wrong with them. So if you want to go to those stores, I’ll come with you.”
I stared at her, my eyes boring into hers. I’d never met anyone so uninterested in clothes. How was I going to get her to look decent for junior high? If she didn’t like Fashionisteen, there was almost no hope for The Limit. But maybe, just maybe, by some freak of nature, Kallie would see something at The Limit and fall in love with it. I was going to make one final effort before I admitted defeat.
I was going to show her The Dress.
“Follow me,” I ordered.
Lynn and I each had a special Limit dress we coveted. Hers was a lavender slip dress with black lace, spaghetti straps, and a heart-shaped neckline. Personally I wasn’t sure I’d have the courage to wear it on my honeymoon, but I admired Lynn for wanting to wear it in public.
I approached the store anxiously, afraid my dress might have been sold to someone who had a more understanding mother than I did. But it was still there, prominently displayed in the largest window. A blue A-line minidress that ended several inches above the knees, sleeveless, with a circular neckline, and navy flowers splashed unevenly over the soft, flowing material. It was as gorgeous as ever. The bald mannequin wearing The Dress had a mouth that turned down at the corners and a bored expression, which made me want The Dress even more. I had to stop myself from putting my hand to the glass.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” I breathed.
I turned to see Kallie’s reaction. She looked at The Dress and then at me for a long time, so long it made me nervous. Finally she said evenly, “Yeah. It’s nice.”
I let out my breath slowly. “Do you really think so?”
“Sure.” She looked at me cautiously. “Are you going to buy it?”
“I don’t know. It’s pretty expensive. Eighty dollars.”
“Eighty dollars?” said Kallie, her mouth falling open.
“Yeah. Why, do you think that’s too much?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “I guess not, if you really want it.”
I continued to stare at The Dress. Suddenly I noticed that Kallie hadn’t said anything about me trying it on. I realized it must be because she thought it wouldn’t fit me. I was humiliated to feel tears forming. All the cool clothes were made for someone with her shape, but she didn’t want them. I wanted to wear them, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t we switch bodies?
“Are you finished looking here?” asked Kallie carefully.
“Yeah.”
“What do you want to do next? You know, we haven’t eaten. Why don’t we get ice cream?” she said, smiling.
I just looked at her. How could she think about getting ice cream when she could see I was so upset? Lynn would’ve been sympathetic. Lynn. I missed her more then than I had in weeks. At least she’d be back soon. Meanwhile I decided that if Kallie was going to pretend not to notice my unhappiness, I was going to hide it.
Kallie had already swung around and was making a beeline for Baskin-Robbins. She didn’t even wait for me, I thought angrily, as I followed her.
“I already know what I want,” announced Kallie happily, stepping up to the counter. I hung back, trying to decide. I wanted cookies ’n cream ice cream, but I thought a daiquiri ice would be better for me because it was less fattening. Plus, it seemed more like something an almost-high school student would order.
“Can I help you, miss?” a gangly guy behind the counter asked Kallie.
“Double Peanut Fudge Deluxe Supreme, please.”
“Excuse me?” the guy said.
“Double Peanut Fudge Deluxe Supreme. I’ll have three scoops. And put it in one of those sugar cones. Not the ones with all the little coloured doodads on them. They obscure the flavour of the peanuts. Just a regular giant-sized sugar cone.”
“Uh … I’m sorry. We don’t have that flavour of ice cream.”
“What?” she said slowly. “You don’t have Double Peanut Fudge Deluxe Supreme? Well, what do you have?” She put her hand on her hip with an exaggerated flourish.
The guy was becoming flustered. I could feel my face changing to the colour of the strawberry ice cream behind the counter, and I wished Kallie would stop making a fuss over something so silly.
“We have peanut butter ’n chocolate,” the guy said.
“Oh, all right,” said Kallie, as if she was indulging a five-year-old. “I guess that’ll have to do. But it’s really most unsatisfactory.” Turning to me, she smiled and said, “Do you believe this place?”
I stepped up quickly and ordered the daiquiri ice, not wanting to order the cookies ’n cream and make us look even more childish.
After we’d gotten our food, we started heading back in the direction we’d come. That’s when I noticed a group of girls coming out of The Limit. Three girls were clustered around a taller one with long blond hair. This girl was wearing a tight black tank top, eight-inch white shorts, and ballerina flats.
I stopped dead. “It’s Chanel Winters,” I gasped.
“Who?” asked Kallie. She took a big bite out of her cone and stepped into the oncoming traffic of the mall.
A cold wave swept over me as I looked at Kallie. She was wearing a batik dress with a lopsided sash and those flat cloth shoes you buy in Chinatown. Her nails were chipped, and her hair was wilder than usual. She stood there, happily licking her huge ice cream cone and swinging her Science Dude bags. And Chanel Winters was less than twenty metres away! Without thinking, I grabbed Kallie and yanked her behind a postcard rack that was sticking out from a souvenir store.
“Hey! What did you do that for?” she demanded.
But I ignored her. I was too busy wondering what would’ve happened if Chanel and her friends had come out of the store when Kallie and I were standing there. I was suddenly grateful for Kallie’s urge for ice cream.
I turned to Kallie, who was looking at me as if I’d just pushed in front of her in the line to look through the big telescope at The Science Dude. I felt a small pang, not only for having pulled her back so roughly but also for having felt the need to pull her back. This second feeling was new and confusing to me, so I shook it off.
I peered around the rack and motioned for Kallie to do the same. Chanel and her friends were still standing there. “It’s Chanel Winters,” I said, as if that explained everything.
“Which one? The tall one?”
I nodded. “I’ve never met her. She went to Simcoe, that’s the other elementary school in our neighbourhood. She’s going into grade seven at Mackenzie this fall, too.”
I explained how Lynn and I wanted to be part of Chanel’s group and how we were making plans to befriend her. But all Kallie said was, “Why do you want to be friends with her so badly?”
“Are you kidding? Look at her! She’s so cool. She was the most popular girl at Simcoe and Susanna Moodie.”
Kallie didn’t seem impressed. “Who said th
at?”
“Everyone.”
“I guess it must be true then.” Her voice was odd, not sarcastic exactly, more like amused.
We continued to watch Chanel and her friends. Once Chanel laughed loudly. A beautiful laugh, I thought, all high and tinkly. Two older guys walking by noticed her and smirked at one another. She smiled at them and flipped her hair over her shoulder. Then she started walking towards the front entrance of the mall, and her friends followed.
“She’s so pretty,” I said quietly. Looking at Chanel was like looking at The Dress. It made me feel happy but also powerless because it was something I couldn’t have, something I couldn’t be. “Lynn’s so lucky. She looks a lot like Chanel.”
I heard Kallie say, “Really?” and then, “Here. Hold this.” She shoved her dripping ice cream cone into my hand, and disappeared into the postcard store. I was lost in my thoughts until Kallie appeared in front of me, holding yet another bag.
We began wandering towards the front entrance. I couldn’t stop thinking about Chanel, and I blurted out, “I’d love to be her.”
“Chanel Winters? Why?”
I laughed. Sometimes Kallie was so clueless. “Well, who wouldn’t? She’s beautiful, she’s popular, and she wears the coolest clothes. Plus all the guys are after her.”
“Don’t you want to be yourself?” asked Kallie, taking another giant bite out of her cone. She seemed to be enjoying it an awful lot for someone who’d said it was “unsatisfactory.” My ice, on the other hand, tasted like water with a drop of Mr. Clean.
“Myself? No.”
“Why not?”
Without thinking, I said, “There’s nothing interesting about me. Who’d want to be like me?”
Kallie stopped walking and put the hand carrying the bags to her hip. “What do you mean, who’d want to be like you? You’re nice, you’re friendly, you’re smart, and you’re funny. Lots of people would want to be like you.”
I looked at her, my lips parted, feeling as if someone had just told me — seriously — that I had a good shot at winning the Miss Toronto pageant. (Do they even have those anymore? I’m not sure. Anyway, you know what I mean.) No one had ever told me all those things about myself, except my parents. And even they hadn’t said them all at the same time.
