Susan nodded in agreement. The two girls paused to think for a moment, and they found themselves in front of one of the mall’s snack bars.
“What do you say we stop off for an ice cream cone?” Susan suggested. “We can take a break before we get down to the business of your hair.”
“My hair?” Suddenly realizing what her twin was referring to, Chris placed a protective hand on her thick, shiny locks. “Oh, no! You’re not serious, are you? You don’t really expect me to cut off all my hair, do you?”
Susan bit her lip. “Unless you can come up with some other idea—”
“Anything! I’ll do anything! But not that!”
“Well, let’s see. You could tuck it under a hat, I suppose. A baseball cap, maybe.”
Chris shook her head. “Too risky. If the cap ever fell off, the whole Marshmallow Masquerade would be spoiled. Besides, then I’d have to spend every single minute worrying that even one little strand of hair would manage to work its way out.”
“How about a hood, then? You could wear one of those nylon jackets....”
“All the time? Then I’d never be able to go inside. I’d have to stay outside all the time.” Chris shivered at the mere thought. “No, that’d never work. Not in the middle of November, anyway.” She looked at her sister morosely. “I’m afraid you’re right, Sooz. If I really want this to work, I’m going to have to go ahead and do it right.”
“Gee, Chris. Are you sure? It’s not too late to turn back, you know.”
Chris stared at her reflection in the window of the snack bar. What she saw was a pretty seventeen-year-old girl ... with a headful of beautiful hair. She sighed loudly, then said, “I just hope Scott Stevens likes girls with short hair. We’d better forget about our ice cream cones for now. Take me to the nearest barber shop before I change my mind!”
Convincing the barber at the mall’s barber shop that she really did want her hair cut to look like a boy’s was no easy feat.
Matter-of-factly, Chris said, “But it’s the newest style! You mean you’ve never heard of ‘the boy cut’? Why, it’s being featured in all the latest fashion magazines!”
Finally, the barber relented. Within minutes, Chris’s locks were strewn all over the floor of Benny’s Barber Shop. And the hair that was left lay flat on either side of her head, parted on the side ... exactly the way a boy would wear it.
“What have I done?” Chris cried, her eyes brimming with tears as she stared at the person in the mirror—a person who, she had to admit, did look very much like a boy,
“Just think,” her sister said consolingly, “within a couple of weeks it’ll be a lot longer. You know how quickly your hair grows. And in the meantime, you can wear combs and barrettes or even curl it. And before you know it, it’ll be as long as mine again. Chris ... Chris . . . are you still speaking to me?”
Chris looked over at her sister and nodded. “It’s for a good cause, right? I’ll just keep telling myself that, over and over. It’s for a good cause, it’s for a good cause....”
Susan felt as if her heart was going to break. “Could you at least smile, then? Please?”
Her twin obliged. “You’re right. I should stop being such a poor sport. I agreed to do this, and I’m going to do it right. Besides, it’s going to be lots of fun, once I start pretending to be Charlie Pratt.”
“That’s the spirit! I knew I could count on you. Now, I’ve got one more idea....”
“Uh-oh.” Chris’s smile faded. “What now? Do I have to join the army? Or get a job with a construction crew? Or ... ?”
“No, nothing like that!” Susan laughed. “If that’s what you’re thinking, then you’re going to be very relieved when you hear my idea. I was thinking that you should get a pair of glasses.”
“Glasses?”
“Right. Eyeglasses. To make you look a little different, that’s all. Less like the Christine Pratt that everyone at Whittington High already knows.”
“Sooz, that’s a great idea! Besides, wearing glasses will make the whole masquerade seem a little bit easier.”
“It will? Why?”
“Because,” Chris explained, looking a bit rueful, “a pair of eyeglasses will give me something to hide behind!”
* * * *
That night, after dinner, Chris and Susan holed up in Chris’s room, armed with all their new purchases.
It was time to put the finishing touches on their new creation, Charlie Pratt.
“Boy, I thought Mom and Dad were going to turn purple when they saw my hair!” Chris groaned. She reached up to touch her head, as if she still couldn’t quite believe that she had actually gone ahead and had all her hair cut off.
“I wonder if they suspect that we’re up to something,” Susan mused. “I mean, they both pretended to believe you when you said that you just wanted to try something different, but that may just be because they’re not the type to pry.”
Chris laughed. “Maybe they’re just afraid of what they might find out if they start asking too many questions! After all, they know all about the kinds of pranks we like to play!”
“Actually,” Susan said seriously, “I think they simply trust us. They know we have good judgment and that we’re not about to do anything to hurt anybody else. Or ourselves, either.”
Chris sighed loudly. “I just hope they’re right.”
Susan detected some reluctance on her twin’s part, so she immediately set about rousing her enthusiasm for the Marshmallow Masquerade once again.
“Okay, Chris. Why don’t you put on your new clothes so we can see what Charlie Pratt looks like?”
Chris donned the brown pants and the brown plaid flannel shirt that the girls had bought that day. She also put on her running shoes, sold as being suitable for both boys and girls, and took off all her jewelry. Then she stood in front of the full-length mirror that lined the back of her bedroom door.
“I don’t know ...” She put her hands on her hips and frowned as she examined the image before her. “I guess I look kind of like a boy....”
“Here, try the glasses.” Susan handed her the round glasses with the tortoiseshell frames that they’d gotten at the mall that afternoon. They were sunglasses, but they were so faintly tinted that they looked very much like prescription eyeglasses.
“Well, they help a little.” Chris still sounded doubtful.
“Let’s look at it this way,” said Susan. “Since we’ll be introducing you to people as our cousin Charlie, there’s no reason for them to start trying to prove that you’re a girl and not a boy, right?”
“That’s true. And besides, I’ll just have to try really hard to act like a boy.” Chris thought for a few seconds, and then a worried look crossed her face. “Sooz, what exactly do boys act like?”
“Actually, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to that very question. And I decided that there are two kinds, of things that make a boy ... well, seem like a boy. One kind is biological. You know: deeper voice, broader shoulders ....”
“I’ll do my best,” Chris said warily. She lowered her voice experimentally. “Hi. I’m Charlie Pratt. Glad to meet you.” Then, in her own voice, she said, “There. How did that sound?”
“It sounded just fine.” Susan smiled encouragingly. “But what I think is even more important is the second category of things that make a boy seem like a boy. And that’s the things they say and do. And that, I figure, should be a lot easier for you to imitate.”
Chris looked skeptical. “Oh, really? Why?”
“Because those are things that boys have learned. And so you can learn them, too. Or at least copy them. It should be especially easy because you’ll probably be aware of every single movement you make and every word you say.”
“On, I know what you mean! You mean like the fact that boys never use words like ‘teensy’ or ‘icky’ or even ‘cute.’ Or that they’ll never admit they’re nervous before taking a test or giving an oral report in class.” Chris was growing excited. “Or that they t
alk about sports all the time....”
“Exactly. There’s nothing biological about those things. That’s all behavior that boys have learned to do in order to fit in with all the other boys they know.”
Chris grinned ruefully. “Well, then, I guess this is my chance to put to work all the observations I’ve been making about boys my whole life. It looks like I’ll be finding out once and for all if I really am such an expert on the opposite sex!”
For the rest of the evening, Chris practiced acting like a boy as Susan coached her carefully. She would have to walk differently and sit differently. She would even have to carry her schoolbooks differently. Instead of holding them against her chest as she walked, the way she usually did, she would have to remember to carry them at her side.
There were a million details to remember—or so it seemed. Buying two cartons of milk at lunch, instead of just one. Gulping that milk out of the carton instead of sipping it through a straw. Disposing of trash by tossing it into the wastepaper basket like a basketball, instead of walking over and dropping it in. Crossing her legs at the ankle, instead of at the knee. The list went on forever.
By the end of the evening, however, Chris was confident that she would, indeed, be able to pretend to be the fictitious character Charlie Pratt. And Susan, watching how well she mastered the voice and the actions and expressions of a teenage boy, had no doubt that the masquerade would be successful. The twins were having a lot of fun, preparing for this caper ... and they were also learning quite a bit as they were forced to think about things they had never taken the time to think about before.
“You know, Sooz,” said Chris once she was certain she could carry off this new prank of theirs, “the more time you and I spend deciding what I have to do to become Charlie Pratt instead of me, the more I’m realizing that a lot of the so-called ‘differences’ between boys and girls are simply things that we’ve learned.”
“You’re right, I’ve been noticing the exact same thing.” Susan smiled. “See, Chris? The Marshmallow Masquerade just might end up proving what I’ve been saying all along.”
“What’s that?”
“That boys and girls really are basically the same! We just act so different so much of the tune because we think we’re supposed to!”
“Well, I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” Chris sighed deeply as she looked at her reflection in the mirror one more time. “In less than thirty-six hours, the Pratt twins are going to launch their brand-new creation upon the world.
“Look out, Whittington High. Here comes Charlie Pratt!”
Chapter Four
On Monday morning, two very nervous teenagers were making their way down First Street, toward Whittington High. One of them was Susan Pratt, looking pretty much her usual self. The other, however, was someone that no one at Whittington High— or anyone else in the world, for that matter—had ever met before.
“Are you sure I look okay?” demanded Christine Pratt—or Charlie, as she was now trying so hard to think of herself.
“For the millionth time, you look great, Chris. Oh, I’m sorry; I mean Charlie. Your hair is perfect; your clothes are fine. The glasses are just the right touch ... You’re even doing a terrific job of walking differently!”
“That’s because my knees are shaking so hard! Oh, Sooz, I know this sounded like a wonderful idea all weekend, while we were planning it, but now that we’re actually doing it ...”
“It’s just stage fright,” Susan said calmly. “Don’t worry. All the great actors get it.”
“Oh, really?” Her twin didn’t sound convinced.
“Sure. Once we get going, you’ll forget all about being nervous.”
“If you say so ...”
Susan sounded reassuring. “Look, so far everything is going perfectly smoothly, right? Yesterday I called Beth and told her you were sick in bed with the flu and that you’d be in bed all week. Probably up until the Homecoming Game next Saturday. And she believed me one hundred percent. I’m sure she’ll start spreading the word. In fact, I sounded so convincing that she might even take up a collection to send you flowers! And she was extra-sympathetic when she heard that our cousin Charlie was coming to visit this week.”
“Holly believed our story, too, when I called her. Hey, I sure did a good job of sounding weak over the phone, didn’t I?”
“I’m surprised she didn’t send for an ambulance! Anyway, the stage is set for the temporary disappearance of Christine Pratt....”
“And the temporary appearance of Charlie Pratt.”
Chris shoved her hands deep inside the pockets of her navy-blue wool jacket, one of her father’s old ones. The girls had discovered it on Sunday afternoon when they had gone rummaging through the old trunks and cardboard boxes packed away in the attic, in search of clothes and anything else that would help them carry out the Marshmallow Masquerade.
“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head slowly. “I felt kind of bad this morning, sneaking out of the house without saying anything to Mom and Dad. Pretending I’d overslept and didn’t have time for breakfast.”
Susan looked at her sister and blinked. “And how would you have explained Charlie Pratt showing up at Mom and Dad’s breakfast table?”
“I know; we had no choice. I just wish we could let them in on it. Besides, I’m starving.”
Susan grinned. “Fortunately, I thought of every detail.” She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out an orange and a handful of crackers, wrapped in aluminum foil. “See? I snuck these out of the kitchen. You need your strength for this caper!”
“Thanks, Sooz! You have thought of everything!” As she munched on a cracker, however, Chris grew pensive once again. “Well, we got out of the house safely this morning ... but what are we going to tell Mom and Dad tomorrow morning? They’re going to think I’ve got African sleeping sickness if I start missing breakfast every day for the next week!”
Suddenly Susan grabbed her sister’s arm. “We’ll have to worry about that later. In the meantime, get ready to use your deep voice. See that car over there, the one that just slowed down? That’s Holly Anderson and her brother, Michael. They’re trying to catch our attention!”
“Oh, no! Sooz, I’m so nervous! I don’t know if I can really do this ...”
“Sure you can, Chris! Just remember that you’re taking part in one of the greatest adventures ever in the entire history of teenage girls. This is it! The Marshmallow Masquerade is about to begin!”
With Susan’s dramatic pronouncement, Chris felt all her muscles tingling. Susan was right. Now that they were finally about to get under way, she was excited.
And more than ready for the challenge that lay ahead.
“Hi, Susan!” called Holly from the car’s open window. “Would you and your cousin like a ride to school?”
Chris and Susan exchanged triumphant glances.
“Sure we would. Thanks!” cried Susan.
“Great. Hop in!”
Once Susan and her “cousin” had scrambled onto the backseat, Holly, sitting in the front seat, turned around and said, “Susan, you’ve met my brother, Mike, haven’t you?”
Mike answered the question for her. “Susan and I are old pals!” he joked, grinning through the rear-view mirror. “We go back quite a ways, don’t we?”
“We sure do!” Laughing, Susan continued with the joke. She could feel herself blushing. She was so pleased that Mike wanted to kid around with her!
Holly, however, was puzzled. “How ... where ... ?”
“We were just teasing, my dear little sister.” Mike gave her a brotherly pat on the head. Like Holly, he was blond and good-looking, with blue eyes and an easy smile. “Actually, I’ve only met Susan a few times. When she was over at our house.”
“Oh, I see. And this is your cousin, right?”
“Gee, I’m sorry. I almost forgot to introduce you.” Susan had been so involved with Mike—and so happy that he did, indeed, remember her—that for a minute she had
forgotten all about the stranger sitting beside tier. “This is my cousin, uh, Charlie. Charlie Pratt. He lives in, uh, Chicago. His father and our father—I mean, my father—are brothers.”
“That’s right; I’m from Chicago!” Charlie agreed heartily. “Are you good friends of Chris and Susan’s?”
“I’ll say,” Holly replied. “Chris and Susan and I have known each other since junior high school. By the way, I’m Holly Anderson, and this is my brother, Michael. He’s a freshman at the state university, but he’s living at home during his first semester.”
“Hello, Holly. Hiya, Mike.”
So far, so good. Neither of them seemed to notice anything in the least bit peculiar about Susan Pratt’s cousin from Chicago.
“So, Charlie Pratt, what brings you to our little town?” Holly asked. She turned all the way around in her seat in order to get a better look at Charlie.
Suddenly, the way she was acting changed.
It was a slight change, so subtle that Chris would probably never even have noticed if she hadn’t been the person at whom the change was directed. The way Holly was looking at Charlie was quite different from the way she’d been looking at Susan. Her blue eyes were shining, her head was cocked to one side, and she was twirling a strand of her long blond hair around her fingers.
My goodness! Holly is flirting! thought Chris with amusement. Wow! I guess I really am convincing as Charlie Pratt!
But then she remembered something. What about Hank? Holly had said that he’d been ignoring her lately ... but the two of them had just started going out together. It seemed only fair that she give him a chance. . . .
Perhaps I’m reading too much into this, Chris thought. Maybe some girls just flirt with every boy they meet, just for the fun of it.
Suddenly, Chris froze.
I’m one of those girls! she thought.
It doesn’t matter if I actually like the boy I’m talking to ... or if I even know him! It’s almost a habit! Nothing more than a game, one of those games we were talking about the other night, the type that boys and girls both get caught up in playing all the time.
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