It was so beautiful outside that we had fewer customers than we did on other Saturdays. The day passed slowly with customers trickling in and out practically one at a time. Devon didn’t have to feel so bad—even Giancarlo only had a couple of clients, and he usually stayed almost as busy as Violet.
In the late afternoon, Megan got bored and did some homework, which Mom said was fine as long as she kept it discreet. Mom was cutting a woman’s espresso-colored hair, and they chatted about a new chef in town and whether or not the food was worth the hype.
I was up near the front when Lizbeth and her mom walked through the doors. I had no idea they were coming.
“Hey there,” I said, trying not to sound too eager and excited.
“Hi, Mickey,” she said. I liked her outfit—pale pink Hello Kitty T-shirt, ripped jeans, and blue flip-flops.
Megan greeted them, pulling a hair magazine over her textbook before pulling up the scheduling program on the computer. “Here for a cut?”
“Just manicures,” Lizbeth’s mom said. Her hair was a brighter blond (courtesy, no doubt, of a little help from the girls at Hello, Gorgeous!) than Lizbeth’s own honey blond. She wore a thin gold watch that she twisted around her freckled wrist, and she had a polite smile.
“We only have Karen on duty today. Is that okay?” Megan asked. When Mrs. Ballinger said it was fine, Megan instructed them to pick out their colors and have a seat at the manicure station. She got on the house phone and called Karen up from the break room while Mrs. Ballinger chose a sheer white. Lizbeth looked at the drawing fishbowl and picked up the pen we kept next to the entry forms.
“Is there an age limit for this?” she asked.
“Nope,” I said. “Go for it.”
“Cool.” She filled out two cards and dropped them in a bowl. “One for Kristen,” she said. Then added, “By the way, I heard you got Cara a cell phone. That’s pretty cool.”
I shrugged, playing like it was no big deal, but inside—I felt pretty cool. Karen came up as Lizbeth and her mom sat down. Mrs. Ballinger gave Karen the sheer white, and, from her bag, Lizbeth pulled out a color from her purse—Peppermint Shake.
I almost dropped my broom.
“Hey, where’d you get that?” Karen asked.
“I got it from—,” she said, turning to point to me. I shook my head frantically in tiny little jerks—the international sign for ix-nay on the olish-pay. How could I have forgotten to tell her and Kristen to keep their polish away from my mom? “From a store,” Lizbeth said, keeping one eye on me. I did the head shake again. It wasn’t even in stores yet. Lizbeth’s eyes widened and she stammered, “I mean a gift. I got it as a gift. From a friend.” She looked at Karen and plastered a smile on her face.
I could see Violet watching us from the corner of my eyes. Devon, who’d been hanging around with Violet at her station, was watching, too.
“Well, hold on to it,” Karen said to Lizbeth. “Apparently it’s a hotter ticket than even I thought,” she said. Then she took a slightly closer look at her and asked, “Did I ever use it on you . . . ?”
Lizbeth wrapped her fingers tightly around the mint-green and pink bottle, sliding her eyes toward me.
“Uh, Karen!” I called. She turned to look at me as Lizbeth shot me a questioning look. I stepped closer to the station and said, “Um, just wondering if you needed anything. Do you need anything? Anything at all?” What I said didn’t matter as long as I distracted her from the interrogation.
“No, Mickey,” Karen said, grabbing a cotton ball and putting nail polish remover on it. “I’m good.”
A moment later, Lizbeth put the mint-green nail polish back in her bag and told Karen that she had changed her mind about the color and wanted to go with a sheer pink instead. Brilliant move on the part of Lizbeth—hiding the evidence. Talk about taking it for the team.
I let out a breath as Karen began working on Mrs. Ballinger’s nails. I couldn’t tell if she was onto me. Mom was in deep discussion mode with her client and I didn’t think she’d overheard any of our conversation, but I couldn’t be sure. It was all so nerve-wracking.
“I’m heading to CJ’s,” Megan said once I’d saved myself from getting busted, fired, and humiliated on the spot. In front of my new friend. Who didn’t look too thrilled with me at the moment. “Will you watch the front for me? Your mom will be right there if you need anything.”
“Yeah, sure,” I said, leaning my broom against the wall. I felt terrible, like some petty little lowlife thief, which I guess I was. That whole polish thing had been such a huge mistake, and now to top it off, I had made Lizbeth my unsuspecting accomplice. “Be back in two flat,” Megan said, sending a breeze through the doorway as she walked out.
Mom finished up with her client and escorted her to reception. The woman, whose hair now framed her face in perfect wisps, paid and made an appointment for six weeks out, just as my mom suggested. When the woman left, I braced myself as I waited for her to say something about the polishes.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
Mom smiled, then gazed out the window for a second. “I don’t have anything else today. I think I’ll get back in my office and do some number-crunching.”
I let out a deep but quiet breath. The smile was a good sign. It meant she probably hadn’t heard. As she passed me, she tucked some wiry strands behind my ear. “Violet’s right here if you need anything.”
Violet looked over at me again, but I couldn’t tell if there was anything behind the look other than just, you know, looking at me. I smiled at her, anyway, just in case.
I leaned on the reception desk and played the nail polish scene over and over in my head. There was a good chance Karen had figured out how Lizbeth got the polish. The question was whether or not she’d tell my mother. Telling your boss that her daughter is a petty thief is probably not the quickest way to a pay raise, I reasoned. At least I ho—
Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted by an intriguing conversation between Lizbeth and her mother. “We paid a lot of money for that table.”
“Yeah, but why do I have to go to some boring fund-raiser at the country club? They play horrible music and everyone gives us dirty looks if we laugh too loud,” Lizbeth said.
I shifted my body ever so slightly. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop; I was just trying to get more comfortable.
“Stop complaining,” Lizbeth’s mom said. “You’ll get a new dress out of it, plus we can have a girls’ afternoon and get our hair done beforehand. It’ll be fun!”
Ah, yes. The old “just by saying it’ll be fun will make it true” routine. I’d heard that one before. When I was in third grade, Dad tried to convince me that playing softball would be fun. I fell for it and ended up benched for most of the games because I complained about hat hair. I hoped Lizbeth wouldn’t make the same mistake I did.
Lizbeth was silent. She must have been thinking about it. “Who’s going to be there?” she asked.
“The Andersons and their son Matthew, and the Woodses and their son Tobias. Those two families are the best of friends, and now your father and I have gotten to know them a bit ourselves.”
Matthew Anderson? I thought.
“Matthew Anderson?” Lizbeth asked.
“Yes. Do you have classes with him?”
Lizbeth didn’t answer, but I could hear the tiny hint of a smile in her voice. How lucky was she to be going to the same fund-raiser as her crush and sitting at the exact same table? “So now you’re setting me up on dates, huh, Mom?”
Mrs. Ballinger practically gasped. “It most certainly is not a date. It’s just three families sharing a table at a benefit. A very expensive table. And the boys just happen to be your age.” After a moment, she said, “Matthew—is he cute?”
“Mom!”
“Okay, fine. You’re the one who called it a date. Invite Kristen and you’ll have a great time. Just remember that this is a very important dinner to your father,” Lizbeth’
s mom continued. “You and Kristen need to be on your best behavior.”
Lizbeth didn’t say anything more and soon her mom was talking about the Andersons and their winter vacation in the Florida Keys.
Megan finally returned, her cheeks extra rosy. “Here,” she said, dropping a bag on the counter. “Thanks for covering for me.”
“Thanks,” I said, looking inside the bag—two chocolate chip, peanut butter cookies.
I got my broom, which was leaning against the wall, and tried to think of something else to clean or straighten up. I was wiping down the shelves that held products for sale when Lizbeth called from the door, “Hey, Mickey! I’ll talk to you Monday, okay?”
Did talk mean just that we’d see each other on Monday or did it mean that she wanted to talk talk about the polish? My stomach cramped up just thinking about it.
Lizbeth waved good-bye—or maybe she was just trying to dry her colored nails—and headed out the door.
If only I hadn’t taken those nail polishes—how on earth could I have thought that was a good idea?
CHAPTER 15
As I got dressed for school on Monday, I mentally prepared myself to talk to Lizbeth about the polish sitch. I wanted to smooth the whole thing over so we could all have a nice, leisurely lunch talking about clothing and boys. At least talking to Lizbeth would be a lot easier than talking to my mother. It seemed like I was out of the woods from being a prime suspect in the case of the missing spring polishes, since Mom hadn’t said anything to me last night.
Downstairs Dad served up fresh blueberry pancakes and scrambled eggs for breakfast. “The Goldmans just called. Jonah’s mom is driving him to school today, so don’t worry about waiting for him,” he told me.
I poured maple syrup over the pancakes. “That’s weird. I didn’t see him all weekend and he totally bailed on me on Friday. I wonder if he’s mad at me.” I speared the pancakes and took a bite. Blueberry deliciousness popped in my mouth.
“I’m sure he’ll explain it to you when you see him,” Dad said.
When the lunch bell rang I dashed to the cafeteria to meet up with Lizbeth, Kristen, and Eve. I waited outside the doors to the lunchroom, looking over the tops of heads and keeping an eye out for everyone. Jonah got there first.
“Oh, hey, Jonah,” I said.
“Hi,” he said. He shoved his hands in his baggy jeans pockets and scanned the cafeteria. It almost seemed like he was pretending to look for someone so he could avoid looking at me.
“Where’ve you been these last couple of mornings? Is your alarm clock broken or something?” I asked
“No,” he said with a giant edge to his tone. “My alarm clock isn’t broken.”
“Then where were you?” He shrugged his shoulders—he didn’t know where he’d been? I wanted to ask him if he was mad at me, but I didn’t want to cause a whole drama-fest outside the cafeteria. Plus, I had just caught sight of Kristen’s auburn hair coming my way.
“Listen, Mickey, I gotta—”
“We should talk,” I interrupted. Jonah didn’t say a word. “But don’t worry about saving me a seat today, I’m gonna sit with my friends.”
Okay, I have to admit I loved using that term—my friends. Especially the s part. As in more than just one.
“Hey, Mickey. What’s up, Jones?” Kristen said to Jonah. He shot her a look, then headed into the caf.
“Jonah!” I called, but he ignored me.
“What’s his deal?” Kristen asked, looking a little confused.
“I’m not really sure,” I said. Maybe he didn’t like that I was hanging out with the girls and not him? I couldn’t imagine that he’d care, but maybe he did.
“I love your purse,” I told Kristen, pushing thoughts of Jonah out of my mind. It was silver with a silver chain and a fat rose bloom on the front.
“Thanks,” she said. “I just saw Eve—she said she’s not coming to lunch because she has to see her history teacher.” Kristen’s eyes widened. “So . . . I heard about what happened this weekend . . .”
“Oh yeah . . . about the fund-raiser, you mean?”
“Huh?” she said.
“At the country club with Lizbeth’s family. Lizbeth was in the salon on Saturday with her mom talking about it. Have you thought about what you’re going to wear? I’ll totally help you with your hair if you want.”
“Mickey, what are you talking about?” she asked—very firmly, I might add.
“The fund-raiser at the country clu . . .” I let my voice trail off then. The look on Kristen’s face said it all. It had seamlessly gone from one of curiosity into one of vengeful anger.
My stomach dropped and my heart raced. What had I just done? Why had I thought it was a good idea to, you know, talk to people? Kristen glared at me, her cheeks turning bright red. This was so not good.
“Um, actually, I think I was thinking of someone else,” I backpedaled, desperately wanting to make this conversation go far, far away. “I heard someone else talking about . . . some other party or something.”
“You mean you’re not sure if it was Lizbeth you heard talking about the country club this weekend?” Kristen said.
“Well, yeah, I mean, I guess it was Lizbeth. But I think I just misunderstood what she was saying. That happens to me all the time. Ha-ha!” Suddenly I could feel the ol’ upper lip sweat as I tried to cover what I’d just done. “I think maybe she was just talking about something her parents were doing, not her. I think that was it,” I said again, hoping I sounded convincing.
“Yeah,” Kristen said, sharp and clear. “Whatever.”
Then she stormed past me back down the hall, clutching her rose purse as if it held the secret weapon she was going to use to destroy her mortal enemy.
I knew I’d blown it. Totally and completely.
Since Kristen was chasing down Lizbeth and Eve wasn’t coming, I headed to my usual table with Jonah and Kyle. The two of them were talking about something, some video game probably, and totally ignored me when I sat down. At least, Jonah did. Kyle muttered a meek hello.
“You won’t believe what just happened,” I said, unpacking the lunch my dad had made me. My hands were still kind of shaking from the conversation with Kristen. “I just opened my big mouth to Kristen about something Lizbeth didn’t want her to know. Now she’s beyond mad.”
“Well, did Lizbeth tell you not to tell anyone?” Jonah asked in this sharp tone of voice that I really wasn’t into. I guess it was silly of me to think that he could put aside whatever was bothering him and just be a good friend to me for a minute.
Also, that was a bit of a tricky question. I didn’t want to say I was eavesdropping. Which I wasn’t. Technically. I just happened to be in the area when I overheard. “She didn’t say it was a secret,” I said.
He ripped off a bite of his hamburger. He looked around the caf and said, “Where’s your other friend? Eve?”
“She’s meeting with her history teacher.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Not sure,” I said. “He’s probably trying to catch her up.”
“Well, is she still coming to lunch? She can sit here with us.”
“She’s not coming. Why do you care?” I asked teasingly.
“You know what?” Jonah said, his face scrunching up.
“Jonah,” Kyle said. I’d almost forgotten he was there. “Come on.”
“What is wrong with you, Jonah?” I asked. And then I blurted out, “Are you mad at me for hanging out with other people or something?” I realized that sounded kind of catty, but I didn’t know what else could possibly be wrong, or why he’d care for two seconds if I had made other friends.
“No! That is not what’s wrong with me,” he snapped. It made me think that maybe there really was something to it. “And since you’ve liked sitting at that table so much,” he said, nodding over to Lizbeth and Kristen’s vacant table, “why don’t you just sit there from now on?”
“Jonah, why are you being so mean? Why won’t
you tell me what you’re angry about?”
“Because,” he spat, then stood and picked up his tray. “See you later,” he said.
To Kyle.
Wow.
I thought I might start crying. I knew Jonah was angry, but not so angry that he couldn’t even tell me why he was so angry.
I’d ruined things with Kristen and Lizbeth, and now this. And I still didn’t know what I had done!
“It’s okay,” Kyle said. “He’s just in a bad mood.”
If I had known things were going to be so wonky today, I would never have gotten out of bed.
CHAPTER 16
Have you ever walked into a room and everyone was acting really weird and you didn’t know why but you knew that it had to be something very, very bad? That’s what the salon felt like on Wednesday. It had this total off-vibe, like the pomade jar was about to hit the fan.
I was wiping down Mom’s mirror when a woman with long red hair came in.
“Janette Williams?” Megan asked, checking the schedule. Great. It was Maggie Williams’s mom. I couldn’t believe Maggie had actually gotten her mom to come in. I’d forgotten about Maggie and the cell phone promise. Bad vibe or not, I thought something good might be happening when Megan showed Mrs. Williams over to Devon’s station. That was, until I figured out what was actually happening.
When Devon come out from the back, ready to cut and style Mrs. Williams’s hair, Mom was right there on her heels.
“Hi there,” Devon said to Mrs. Williams. “I’m Devon. Welcome to Hello, Gorgeous!”
“Hello, nice to meet you,” Mrs. Williams said, eyeing Mom.
“This is Chloe, owner of the salon.” Mom smiled and said a polite hello to Mrs. Williams. Devon wiped her palms on the cute baby duck–print apron she was wearing. “Don’t mind her, she’s just going to watch what I do here. Nothing to worry about!”
Pretending to be excited was never a good thing. You’d have to be deaf and blind not to know that Devon was worried. Even Mrs. Williams looked like she was wondering what she’d gotten herself into.
Blowout Page 8
