by Mary Strand
“A guy should be interested in something other than my boobs.” Such as they were. “Like, for instance, my brain.”
As it turned out, though, Josh was interested in my brain, not to mention what my brain could do for his Physics grade. I groaned. Nothing made sense.
Jane smiled. “Last time I checked, it’s a little hard to see someone’s brain. That’s why most people notice looks first. Once they get to know each other, then they notice whether the person they like has a brain, or a sense of humor, or at least doesn’t make a habit of torturing small animals.”
I blinked. “What’s that? Liz’s standard?”
“Hey! Who’s talking about me?” Liz flew into my room without knocking, without so much as a “hi.” As usual. “And what are you doing in those overalls? I thought Jane forced her evil taste on you.”
In a pair of pink khakis and a bright green Polo shirt, it looked more like Jane had forced her taste on Liz. Color me stunned. Even Jane’s jaw dropped.
Liz glanced down the front of herself. “No, I haven’t caved in. Or not totally.” She held up her left foot, which featured Liz’s usual rainbow-colored toenails. My own toenails were bare and a little ragged, and I tucked them under me. “I’ve had these pants forever.”
Jane’s eyebrows went up. “Or at least since Sunday.”
I didn’t understand. At all. “You’re wearing that to impress Alex? Or to look like his twin?”
As Jane covered a smile, Liz shot me a snotty look. “Alex wouldn’t wear pink khakis—at least, I don’t think so. And I have had the Polo shirt for ages. Alex will just have to take me as I am.”
Even though it was no longer clear, at least to me, exactly what Liz was.
Jane shook her head. “Mary—I mean, MB—and I were just talking.”
“MB?”
“I’ll explain later.” Jane waved a hand, being the only person in the world who could cut Liz off. Except maybe Alex. “She wore one of her new outfits yesterday, and it didn’t go over too well. Actually—” She tilted her head, considering. “From the sound of it, maybe it did.”
“I said it didn’t.”
“You also told me you caught Josh looking at your—” With a tiny shake of her head, Jane cut herself off this time. “I mean, at you.”
Grinning, Liz held up one palm to offer me a high-five. “You go, girl.” She glanced quickly at Jane, who frowned. “What I should say is that it’s a start, but it’s not everything. I mean, look at Charlie’s sister.”
Smiling, Jane played with Eeyore’s ratty tail. “Luckily, you don’t have to anymore.”
“Amen.” This time Liz gave Jane the high-five. “But my point is, Stephanie was always out to there with the boobs, and I figured Alex and every other guy couldn’t help but notice, and be hot on her, and all that. I was wrong.”
Based on my limited experience, I had to disagree. “Alex didn’t notice her boobs?”
Liz winked at me. “Babe, guys are guys. It’s like a basic reflex. But a guy won’t date a girl just for her body. She has to have something else.”
Jane nodded. “Like a brain.”
“As it turns out, Josh does like me for my brain.” I sighed, wishing life—and guys—were as straightforward as Jane and Liz seemed to think. “He wants me to help jack up his grade in Physics, because his new partner isn’t exactly a rocket scientist.”
I felt a bitter taste in my mouth, and it wasn’t coffee.
Jane caught my eye and held it. “Is that why you went back to the overalls today?”
“And why I’ll wear them again tomorrow?” I blew out an exasperated breath. “Yes, but that’s not all. Everyone laughed at me. Okay, not the teachers, but all the kids.”
Jane frowned. “Why? Did they say you didn’t look good?”
I stared at my hands, trembling in my lap. “Oh, sure, I looked good. Especially with my ponytail and hiking boots.”
“You wore them with the—”
As Liz and Jane both looked at my ever-present ponytail, then at each other, I shrugged. “I didn’t even think about my ponytail—I mean, I’ve worn my hair like that forever—and I, uh, like my hiking boots.”
“Or you’re used to them.” Liz nodded, surprising me. I mean, Liz is cool, but she doesn’t usually win awards for empathy. “We forgot about new shoes.”
“I don’t need new shoes.” I crossed my arms, just like I had when I faced Josh in the school parking lot. “Everyone expects me to wear overalls, a ponytail, and hiking boots.”
“Then that’s the best reason not to.”
I rolled my eyes. Liz might be smart, but she didn’t understand. “When I wore something new, they claimed I was trying to be just like everyone else.”
“Since when is that a crime?” Jane shook her head. “I mean, isn’t that the point of high school? Looking like everyone else?”
I sighed. “Apparently not.”
Liz dropped to the floor, where she curled up in a cross-legged position, putting major wrinkles in her new pants. “You don’t like any of those kids anyway, do you? Do you care what they think?”
“No, but I’ve gotten laughed at enough in my life.” Even behind my back, by Jane and Liz, who both looked a little guilty. “I’m tired of it. If I go back to wearing overalls, the kids will eventually stop laughing.”
“And they get what they want.”
As I stroked Boris’s fur, I frowned at Liz. “I don’t think so. They like laughing at me.”
“No, they like being better than someone else. Anyone else. You were just the flavor of the day.”
“But today I wore my overalls, and they stopped laughing.”
Abruptly, Jane sat up straighter. “Tell me, MB—”
Liz interrupted. “I like Mary better.”
“But it isn’t about you, is it?” Jane shook a finger at her, and they both laughed, but then Jane turned back to me. “Which clothes do you like better? The overalls or the new stuff?”
I’d liked the new clothes all the way to school yesterday, and not a moment since. “I’m more comfortable in overalls.”
“Duh.” Liz rolled her eyes. “I’m more comfortable in gym shorts or sweatpants. That’s not the point.”
Jane stared at Liz until Liz ran her thumb and forefinger across her own lips, zipping them. “Do you like the new clothes? I mean, if you were going to a new school or meeting new kids for the first time, what would you wear?”
Lydia’s reform school actually seemed tempting. At least she got to go to a new school and meet new kids. Sure, they were all criminals, but still. She got a new chance.
I wish.
I looked at Liz and Jane, who were both waiting for me. Waiting for my answer. As if it mattered to them.
I shrugged.
“MB, you have an opinion.”
“Yeah, MB.” Liz shook her head. “Sorry. I just can’t get used to the MB thing.”
Jane rolled her eyes. “You’ve had all of five minutes. Work on it.”
Liz zipped her lips again, and even I laughed.
Jane turned to me but held Eeyore tight against her chest. Like I used to do. Last week. “Which clothes do you like? All that matters is what you think.”
“Are you sure this isn’t more about what you think?”
Liz winked at me. “It certainly should be.”
Jane threw my Eeyore pillow at Liz, who waved Eeyore in the air, and they both laughed uproariously.
I bit my lip. They were talking to me, but I still felt left out. Just like at school. “I guess I liked the new clothes. Except I’m not sure about the skirt.”
Liz tossed Eeyore at me. “I’m never sure about skirts, either, but guys like skirts as much as they do boobs. Short skirts, anyway.”
I threw Eeyore back at Liz, smacking her in the face. I’m not sure which one of us was more stunned, but she recovered quickly. She faked a toss at me and instead sent it flying at Jane. Poor Eeyore.
As Jane held Eeyore aloft, declaring an i
mmediate cease-fire, I looked from Jane to Liz. “I thought this was about me. I don’t give a rat’s ass about guys.”
“Not if they just want you to help them get a better grade in Physics, no.” Jane shook her head. “But you like the new clothes, so let’s get you enough new clothes to retire your overalls for good. Without short skirts for now.”
Was this for me? Or for Jane and Liz? “Why?”
“Because we’re going to annoy all the kids at your school. Starting with Josh.”
Just as I began to object to starting or ending with Josh, loud and misogynistic rap music started blaring through the wall from the direction of Cat’s room. Talk about annoying. “Cat laughed at my clothes, too.”
Jane grinned. “So we’ll start by annoying Cat.”
Liz piped in. “And we’ll look at new shoes. Or a different kind of boots. Whatever you like.”
“And my hair?”
Jane studied my ponytail. “What do you want to do?”
“Annoy the hell out of everyone.”
“Excellent. We’ll do that.”
“One question?” Liz raised her hand, and Jane and I both turned to her. “What’s with the piano? Have you really stopped playing?”
Jane lifted an eyebrow. “More people to annoy?”
I glanced down at my hands, then back at Jane, and finally at Liz. And bit back a grin.
Jane hooted and clapped. “And we thought Lydia was the one going wild.”
I waved a hand. “I’m not planning to start pole dancing.”
“Not yet, you’re not.” As Jane tossed Eeyore at me, I fell back on my bed, laughing.
Minus the pole dancing, I finally had a plan.
It occurred to me more than once over the next few days that a plan dependent on getting help from Jane and Liz was, at the moment, not the best plan.
Since Jane and Liz were both currently guy-crazy, I hardly saw them at breakfast or dinner, let alone somewhere private. Like my room. Or even the Mall of America.
If I wanted to have a chance of pulling off my plan, I needed more new clothes, decent shoes, and hope for my hair. Since I’d screwed up all three of those for the first seventeen years of my life, or at least since middle school, I knew I couldn’t do it without Jane or Liz. I didn’t want to think they’d let me down as much as Josh had, but there you have it. Thank God I was used to rejection.
In the meantime, I stuck with the overalls and boots and ponytail. If nothing else, the sight of me reminded Jane and Liz daily of their promise to help me.
Unfortunately, the sight of me anywhere near the media center reminded Ms. Kieran that I still hadn’t picked up the college brochures she kept waving in the air. She finally had Mr. Skamser hand them to me today in English class, accompanied by a loud sigh.
The sight of me also reminded my mom—when she wasn’t obsessing over Jane or Liz or the fancy boarding school she still thought Lydia was attending—to nag me about the piano.
I mostly managed to dodge Mom, but Dad wasn’t so easy. When he wasn’t at his yoga center, he could usually be found in the middle of the living room on his yoga mat, contorting his body in ways that, frankly, dads aren’t supposed to contort. At least not if they have teenage daughters.
“Mary?”
Friday afternoon after school, he called out to me from mountain pose a moment before dropping to plank position. I knew downward dog was next, and I tried to avert my gaze.
“Mary.” Staying in plank position, he fixed me with a Dad Stare. “I’d like to talk to you, if you have a moment.”
I glanced toward the stairs, where refuge beckoned. I’d had enough adults today. Did every girl have Ms. Gonzalez make her be soccer goalie, and Ms. Veilleux ask her to solve the Great Unsolvable calculus problem on the blackboard, and Mr. Gilbertson ask again why she didn’t want a partner for her roller coaster project? Obviously, Mr. Gilbertson didn’t believe I’d already finished my roller coaster design, even if Josh and every other kid in class did.
Now Dad was staring at me, still in plank position, his forearms trembling from the strain.
I took a tiny step backward. “Wish I could, Dad, but I’ve got homework.”
He collapsed on the floor. “You have all weekend to do it. I was being polite. I wasn’t really giving you an option.”
So much for refuge. I dropped my backpack in the hall and trudged into the living room, where I flopped into Dad’s favorite chair. He lifted one eyebrow as he moved to a sitting position, which for him was the lotus position.
“Your mother tells me the piano is collecting dust.”
“And that’s my issue? Why don’t we wait until Lydia comes home from her so-called boarding school.” Yeah, I snorted. “She can dust it.”
“What do you know about—” Dad sighed, not much different from Mr. Skamser today. “Lydia isn’t your issue, young lady. And I’m not really talking about dust. The fact is, your mother isn’t the only one who noticed that you stopped playing piano. Cat even mentioned it yesterday.”
I rolled my eyes. “So? We all know she likes to tattle on everyone except herself.”
A flicker of a grin crossed Dad’s face. “No comment. But I’ve noticed, too.”
“So everyone is noticing me. Gee, I’m flattered.”
In a weird, twisted way, I kinda was. I mean, no one used to notice me. No one in my family and no one at school. Suddenly, ever since senior year started, everyone I knew—and a bunch of kids I didn’t—suddenly noticed Mary Bennet.
I ran my fingertips over the top of the piano—yep, filthy with dust—before turning back to Dad. I was so used to him now in yoga pants, I sometimes forgot that before his mid-life crisis from hell, Dad used to be an engineer. As in, a guy who could help his daughter design a roller coaster.
From the frown on his face, this might not be the best time to ask.
“Are you tired of piano?”
I shrugged. “When I did practice, all I ever heard were complaints. Couldn’t I practice another time? Couldn’t I practice at school? Couldn’t I stop bothering everyone?”
Dad nodded, looking thoughtful. “So piano isn’t all you’re tired of.”
My mouth fell open. I wasn’t sure I was ready for a heart-to-heart chat with Dad. I mean, Liz talked to him, but usually while they were both under the hood of a car, looking at the engine. Dad never paid much attention to the rest of us, or even to Mom. Especially when she skipped her bipolar meds.
“Do you still want to take lessons?”
“I, uh, dropped out of piano lessons.” Temporarily, I’d said at the time, even to myself. “I haven’t played since I started working at the animal shelter this summer.”
“But you’re not working there anymore.”
It only took him a month to figure it out. Of course, dads were supposed to be clueless, weren’t they?
When I didn’t say anything, Dad shook his head, then jabbed his finger at his unlit cigar on the table next to me. I handed it to him, still on his mat. “My point is, what do you want to do about piano?”
I blinked. Mom never asked what I wanted to do about piano. She just told me I had to play. Even though Liz stopped playing long before I did and the others hadn’t played at all.
Jutting my chin out, I stared at Dad, imagining a steel pole taking the place of my spine. “I don’t want to play piano.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Does it matter?” I tried to look like I didn’t care, but I wondered how long Dad would let me get away with talking like this. I’d never been defiant. I’d been the one who played piano. “Cat doesn’t do anything except shop.”
“I’d rather not compare you with Cat—or Lydia, if that’s the next sister you’re going to mention. Liz stopped playing piano, but she was busy with sports.”
“She also hated piano. And no one else had to play.”
Dad chewed on the end of his cigar. “Jane was busy with student government and theater. And you’re right: Cat and Lydia w
ould both be better off if they pursued something other than shopping and disreputable young men. But I’m not talking to either of them right now.”
He couldn’t talk to Lydia, at least not easily. That’s the trouble with having a daughter in reform school.
Dad looked at me, waiting. Patiently, even.
I gulped in a breath for courage. “The truth is, I’d like to play electric guitar.”
Dad laughed.
I mean, he just laughed.
He laughed so hard that tears rolled down his face and he choked on his cigar. When he finally quit trying to wipe the tears with the back of his hand and stood up to grab a box of Kleenex, I shot out of the living room and ran upstairs.
Forget about Josh and new clothes and a new hairstyle and getting the other kids to quit laughing at me. I’d finally confessed one of my deepest desires to Dad, and only after he basically forced me.
And he laughed in my face.
Late Saturday morning, Jane tiptoed into my room after knocking tentatively on the door.
Flopped on my bed in my overalls and bare feet, I glanced up from Narcissus and Goldmund, the second Hermann Hesse novel I’d read this month and the first that hadn’t been assigned by Mr. Skamser. After seeing all the pain and torture Demian had gone through, I was hooked. Hesse obviously knew, years in advance, the way my life would play out.
Painfully.
Jane gave me a bright smile that held an apology. “Are you still up for a shopping trip? Or did you want to talk about hairstyles you might be interested in?”
It only took her four days to ask. In dog years, which was how I thought of my life, it was a month.
Still, she’d asked.
I frowned. “Are you sure you want to? You seem busy.”
With Charlie, or with Liz, or with Charlie and Liz and Alex. And never with anyone else in the family or, from what I could tell, her college textbooks. Did hanging with guys mean my grades would plummet? And would I ever get the chance to find out the answer to that question?
Jane shook her head. “I’m sorry. Really. The week got away from me, but I have time today, and I’d love to.”
“Without Liz?”
