Blowout

by Taylor Morris

  Well, there went talking to Devon. In person any way. I’d have to call her. Maybe in the early evening when things got quieter and the noise of the blowdryers died down.

  “I hope you’re ready for some manual labor.” Dad grinned, taking off his apron and sitting down with us. “We’ve got yard work to do!” I set my muffin back on my plate, my appetite gone. “Come on! It’s good for your soul.”

  I tried not to groan. The last time I helped my dad with yard work, I accidentally dug into an ant hill. The ants swarmed over my legs in two seconds flat, and I swear the queen herself tried to attack me.

  Mom finished up her breakfast and kissed me on the head before she left. Dad and I put away the dishes, and when we finished he looked at me and said, “Unless you think dirt goes with that outfit, I suggest you change. We’ve got a messy job ahead of us.”

  It was going to be a long day.

  After hours of pulling weeds, planting a few flowers, and being attacked by several beetles, I took my second shower of the day and put on my pajamas. It was so early, it was still light out, but I didn’t care.

  Once I was in my pajamas, there really was nothing left for me to do except to call Devon. I prayed that she would like the idea I came up with. Otherwise, I’d have to kiss Hello, Gorgeous! good-bye.

  “Hello, Gorgeous!” Megan’s sunny voice cheered when she answered the phone.

  My stomach was in knots. “Uh . . .,” I began, my voice lowered as much as I could to disguise it. “Devon, please.” Why didn’t I have her cell number so I could have called her directly? Less than a minute passed before Megan got her.

  “Devon? Hey, it’s Mickey.” Silence on the other end. “Hello?”

  “I’m here,” she said. “Why aren’t you?”

  “I’ve been suspended. Because of the nail polish thing.” For some odd, brief moment I thought she might say something sympathetic to me. But, no . . . not a chance. Just a grunt from her end of the line. “Um, anyway, that’s why I’m calling. Because I can’t come in and tell you my idea.”

  “Tell me now,” she said. “I’m dying to know.”

  Dying—she sounded more like she was ready for murder.

  So I started to explain my half-baked idea of showing people how to style their own hair, like the pros do. That way, the day after a great cut and style, women would be able to do their own hair and look just as gorgeous the second day as when they walked out of the salon.

  “We can use regular people as models, like maybe girls from my school for the demonstrations. And then, the people you style will probably love what you do and they’ll probably become regulars and then tell all their friends and then you’ll have a ton of clients. So, yeah. Um, I think people would really like it.”

  She didn’t make a sound the entire time I rambled. I had no idea if she was liking the idea or if she thought it blew.

  Finally, I heard her let out a breath. Then I heard her voice. It took a minute for me to make sense of her words: “I think this could work.”

  I was so relieved I wanted to dive through the phone and hug her.

  “On one condition,” she continued. “You have to let me cut your hair.”

  That word. Cut. I was hoping she wouldn’t use it. Suddenly I was seeing bangs in my future. Or worse.

  “Do you have to cut it? I asked. “I mean, this is just a styling thing, not a cutting thing. I think it’d be weird to cut my hair, too, don’t you think? I think it might be.” Voodoo mind tricks, I thought. Make her believe you.

  “In order to style your hair well, it needs a good cut as a foundation. So yes, I do have to cut it.”

  “But no bangs or anything crazy like that, right?” I asked, adding in a laugh for effect. Ha, ha, ha! As if that was the ca-raziest idea ever invented.

  I could practically hear the face she was making at me through the phone. “Listen, you want to do this idea of yours, you let me cut your hair. Simple.”

  If I wanted to keep my job at Hello, Gorgeous!, I had to go along with her plan. It was either risk my hair or lose my job.

  As I told her I’d do it, I had visions of my hair falling strand by strand to the floor as Devon laughed a menacing laugh.

  “Excellent,” she said. “I’ll go talk to your mom about it. And since it’s such a great idea, I’m gonna act like it was all mine. Sound good?”

  “Sounds great,” I said, and we hung up. It wasn’t like I had much choice now, was it?

  I didn’t sleep much at all that night.

  But the next day, at least one thing was back to normal—Jonah came in through our back door to walk with me to school.

  “Nice of you to show,” I joked.

  “Watch it, or I won’t let you sit with me at lunch.”

  “Let me?” I said. “You’d be lucky if I decided I wanted to.”

  But I did.

  I spotted Eve coming out of the office before homeroom.

  “Hey!” I said. “Wait up.” I ran and caught up with her.

  “Hi,” she said. “What’s going on?”

  “Everything okay?” I asked, nodding to the office.

  “Yeah. I just have to have all this stuff from my old school transferred and it’s been a pain. Plus I’ve had to spend some lunches working with my teachers to get caught up on things they didn’t cover at my old school. But now I think I’m done and can finally be a regular student.”

  “Ha, lucky you,” I said. We started walking down the hall. “Do you want to sit with me and Jonah at lunch today?”

  “Sure,” she said.

  And then I just blurted it out. “Do you like Jonah?” I asked, and, unlike me, I could tell she knew I meant like like.

  “He’s kind of cute,” she said in a half-whisper.

  “Eve!” I said. “I can’t believe it!” Even though I totally could—the clues had been there all along.

  “But please don’t tell him, okay?” she said. “I don’t want to make a big deal about it, especially since I just got to this school.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I won’t.”

  This time, I really would keep my mouth shut. There was no way I’d ever make the mistake of blabbing again.

  Later, when lunch came around, I stood outside the caf waiting for Eve. When she didn’t show up, I looked around inside for her and saw that she was already sitting with Jonah. I wished I could be as bold as she was. Maybe one day I would be.

  I spotted Kristen sitting with a group of girls. At least she was back to eating in the cafeteria. I didn’t see Lizbeth anywhere, though. I wondered if she was still eating in the library. When I sat down, Jonah and Eve were arguing over which ride at Six Flags New England was the scariest.

  “That ride can’t even touch Mind Eraser,” Jonah said. “You’re practically dangling off your seat, and it loops and loops you around at, like, the speed of an Indy race car!”

  “Please,” Eve said. “Catapult all the way. It feels like you’re flying right up to the sky, and then just when you’re sure you can reach out and touch a cloud, bam! You’re jerked back down.”

  “Big deal,” Jonah said. “I’m talking about roller coasters. Not kid rides.”

  No wonder Eve liked Jonah. The two of them were exactly alike. When they noticed me sit down, Jonah snickered, “Mickey almost wet herself on the Mind Eraser two years ago.”

  “Ugh, so not true,” I said. “I was just worried about my cute new sandals falling off,” I told Eve. Jonah made a noise that we ignored.

  “I like the classic wooden coasters,” Kyle said. He blushed when we all turned to look at him. “Thunderbolt all the way.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good one.” Kyle never said much, but he was kind of cute when he did.

  “Where are Kristen and Lizbeth?” Eve asked. “I thought you guys were all friends.”

  “You’ve missed a lot,” I said, turning away from Kyle who was once again looking closely at his sandwich.

  “Well, talk fast, then.”

 
; I told her, Jonah, and Kyle how what’d I’d said to Kristen about going to the fund-raiser this weekend had set off a major fight between her and Lizbeth, and with me and Lizbeth. “She won’t even talk to me,” I said. “And that’s not all,” I continued. “I have another huge problem.” I told them about the Devon rumor.

  “Wow,” Eve said. “You’ve been busy.”

  Jonah looked at me and said, “Seriously. Why didn’t you tell me any of this last night?”

  I shrugged. “It didn’t seem like the right time.”

  Jonah rolled his eyes. “I’m your friend, okay?” Which I think meant any time is the right time, and I was grateful to him for saying so.

  “Okay,” I said. “Thanks. I actually do have an idea for Devon, though,” I said. “Inspired by you.”

  “Oh, yeah?” he asked.

  “Totally. From last night, at your house when you said my hair looked terrible.”

  “Nice going, Goldman,” Eve said.

  “No, it’s okay,” I said. Then I told them my idea.

  “I would totally go to that,” Eve said. (Even though, as I learned early on, she’s already a whiz at styling her own hair.)

  “I like the idea, too,” Kyle said, out of nowhere.

  “Kyle,” I said, “you don’t say much, but when you do, it’s pure genius.” He blushed.

  “Mickey, you are so lucky you get to work at a salon,” Eve said. “You get to be there with all that glam and you totally don’t make a big deal about it. If I worked there I’d be using all the products and showing off about what a great job I have.”

  I was lucky. But I was also angry at myself for letting things go so wrong.

  When I didn’t say anything, Eve said, “I didn’t mean that to sound like I was asking for anything. Oh my gosh, did it sound like I was digging for a freebie? Because I totally wasn’t, I swear.”

  “Nice going, Eve,” Jonah laughed. “Why don’t you just ask her to give you the works while you’re at it?”

  “Watch it, boy,” she said. “Because I’m this close to going Sergeant Sniper on you.”

  That shut Jonah up. “That’s from level seven of Warpath of Doom. How do you know about him?”

  Eve grinned. “Because I rule that game, that’s how.”

  As they started arguing-slash-talking about the video game, I thought about the two of them as a couple and if that’d be weird for me. I quickly decided I didn’t care, as long as they were nice to each other.

  I realized that if I hadn’t been working at the salon, Jonah and Eve might never have become friends. Sure, they’d each still be going to the same school, but our grade is so big, they might never have noticed each other if they hadn’t seen each other at the salon first.

  And there’s no way I would have ever spoken to Lizbeth and Kristen if I hadn’t met them at the salon.

  Since Hello, Gorgeous! had done such good things for me, maybe it could also help put things right between Lizbeth and Kristen again.

  But how?

  CHAPTER 21

  Tuesday evening, Mom came into my room as I was getting ready for bed. She sat on the edge of my bed while I brushed my hair at my vanity.

  “Tomorrow’s Wednesday,” she said. “Do you think you’re ready to go back to the salon?”

  “Yes, totally,” I said, setting down my brush.

  Mom nodded her head thoughtfully. “Okay. But, Mickey, I can’t stress enough . . .”

  “I know, Mom,” I said. She raised an eyebrow at my interrupting her. “I just mean that I know what a huge mistake I made and I promise I won’t ever do it or anything like it again.”

  She kept her eyes on me, considering. Then she reached across and patted my leg before standing up. “Okay. But I’m watching.”

  When I walked into the salon on Wednesday, Megan gave me a cheery hello, which always helped brighten my day. She looked beautiful in a bubble skirt with a scoop-necked top and her hair slicked back in a shiny ponytail.

  “Hey! Welcome back!” she said. “You feeling better?”

  “Huh?” I asked.

  “Your mom said you left early on Saturday and didn’t work on Sunday because you had some stomach bug.”

  I had to admit—covering for me like that was a supercool mom move.

  “Oh, yeah,” I said. “Much better, thanks.”

  I looked around the salon. Devon usually worked on Wednesdays, but I didn’t see her. Giancarlo was working on a man in his twenties, spiking up his hair in the front, and Violet and Piper were also working on clients—sisters, actually, who drove down from Vermont twice a year for a cut and color.

  “Is Devon here?” I asked.

  “In the break room.”

  I went to the back to stash my bag, sticking my head in Mom’s office to let her know I was there.

  “Welcome back,” she said with a look in her eyes that seemed to say, Now don’t screw it up.

  Devon was in the back reading a magazine.

  “So you’ve decided to come back to the scene of the crime, huh?” she said. I think she was making a joke, but I wasn’t sure.

  “Uh, yeah,” I said, way too nervous to think of a snappy comeback.

  “I talked to your mom about your idea,” she continued. “You’re in luck. She loves it.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep. And she wants to start on it this coming Saturday.”

  Devon said that after Mom agreed, word spread quickly to the other stylists, who were all eager to help out. Devon’s problem—created by yours truly—had let a bad vibe seep into the salon. Everyone was anxious to be a happy Hello, Gorgeous! family once again.

  “Hey, Mick . . . that’s pretty exciting about Be Gorgeous, huh?” Piper said to me as soon as I got out on the floor. “Hey, Chloe,” she said to Mom as she walked up to reception. “I got the DJ at KBRK to do some on-air promos to drive in customers. Cool, huh?”

  “Nice work, Piper,” Mom said.

  “Make sure he mentions that the owner’s daughter is the first one up,” Devon said with a sly eye toward me. “That should intrigue people.”

  “Totally,” Piper said. “I mean, you have to be a pretty good stylist to work on the owner’s daughter, right?”

  “That’s the idea,” Devon said, and a shiver went down my spine.

  “Thanks, honey, for agreeing to help out Devon,” Mom said, resting her hand on my shoulder blade. “That’s very sweet of you.” She clearly didn’t see the looks that passed between me and Devon.

  “She just wants her hair done for free,” Piper joked. I forced a smile and a laugh to show that—gulp—I was totally fine with the idea of Devon getting near my hair.

  As I was leaving for the day, I passed the small room where Rowan was giving facials to two women. They looked like they were morphing into sea creatures with their faces covered in light green paste and cucumbers over their eyes. They had left the tan curtain that separated the two sections open, talking away without seeing each other. Their hands moved in gestures, with one even reaching out for the other through cucumber blindness to make a point.

  I sat in the lounge area waiting as Megan straightened up her desk. She took a wet cloth and wiped down the drawing fishbowl.

  Seeing the bowl reminded me of something. Lizbeth had dropped two cards in for a drawing. One for herself and one for Kristen.

  The time had come for Lizbeth and Kristen to win that drawing.

  CHAPTER 22

  On my way out of the salon that evening, I stepped into Mom’s office to ask for a favor. It probably wasn’t the best time to be asking her to do something for me, but, hey, a friendship was on the line.

  “Hey, Mom?” I said, stepping into her office. “Do you think it’d be okay if I worked Friday night? I don’t have any plans and I just want to get back into the swing of things here.”

  She sat back in her chair, thinking. After a moment, as if she couldn’t find a reason why not, she said, “I suppose.”

  Back at reception I
bought two gift certificates for facials.

  I got my wallet out of my bag, which held nothing but a video rental card I’d never used, some pictures of my family that I never thought to look at, and a cracked/smashed peppermint hard candy. I opened my wallet. I had some cash in it from my first pay period, but not nearly as much as I needed.

  “I’m back on Friday,” I told Megan. “Can I bring it to you then? You know I’m good for it.”

  “Of course,” Megan said. “Want two envelopes?”

  “Actually, can you hold them here? Under the names Lizbeth Ballinger and Kristen Campbell.”

  “Sure thing.”

  “And is Rowan free Friday afternoon? For facials, one at four o’clock and another at four thirty?”

  Megan checked the schedule and said she was free. I asked her to schedule Kristen and Lizbeth, respectively, and she did.

  “Whatever you’re up to seems like a nice surprise,” she said as she typed the girls’ names into the schedule.

  At home, while Dad made pasta sauce for dinner, I went into the office with the computer. I turned it on and clicked on the icon for Mom’s salon e-mail account, which was right on the desktop. I checked the school directory and typed out two e-mails: one to Lizbeth and another to Kristen, congratulating them on winning our in-store drawing. I typed that their prize was a gift certificate for a facial, good on one day and at one time only: Friday afternoon for both of them, one scheduled for four o’clock and the other for four fifteen.

  On the bottom of the e-mails I added a line that said: Do not reply to this e-mail. If for any reason you cannot make this appointment you need not let us know. Again, offer is only valid at the specific date and time given above. I did this so that they wouldn’t write back or call and accidentally tip off my mom to my plan. It was a little risky, but so was doing nothing. And if I knew anything at all about these two girls, I knew they weren’t about to give up free facials.

  I heard Mom’s car pull into the driveway just as I sent the e-mails. I quickly shut off the monitor and left the office, saying a silent prayer that my scheme would work.