“Mmmm,” Chloe says. “Beautiful!”
“What do you think, Bill?” Annie asks, handing it to my father.
Dad shrugs. “Nice.”
Annie sighs. “Men never take fragrance seriously.” She smiles at me with perfectly even white teeth. My father’s girlfriend is really pretty in an ultrafeminine way — long, glossy black hair, high heels, short skirt, full makeup. “What do you think, Hayley?”
I sniff the card. “Smells like room deodorizer.”
“Hayley!” Chloe grabs Annie’s arm. “Don’t listen to her.”
“She’s just being honest,” Annie says, but she places the card on the counter and leaves it there. “So — should we go look at a few dresses?”
“I think I’ll —” Dad gestures vaguely over his shoulder and pulls out his iPhone.
Annie nods, and in a moment, the three of us are heading up the escalator. “I made an appointment with a personal shopper,” Annie tells Chloe.
“Oooh,” Chloe says.
I shake my head at her. Chloe doesn’t care about shopping — but she gets excited about new experiences. I watch her gaze down at the shoppers below as we ride the escalator to the second floor. She’s soaking up the beauty of the place — the floral arrangements and elegant displays. I bite my poor thumbnail, wishing that I felt the same way.
A petite blond woman in all black meets us in one of the boutique sections. Her name tag says sheila. “I’ve set up a dressing room for you,” Sheila says, smiling at us. “I’ve selected a few things.”
“You’ve already chosen our clothes for us?” Chloe is excited by this, not alarmed, as I am.
“Just some things to get you started, so you won’t have to spend time hunting through the racks,” Sheila tells her.
We head into the back of the formal gown boutique and go through a gray door. It takes me a moment to realize we’re in some kind of secret dressing room — the kind you can only get into if you’re prepared to spend serious money. There are four large well-lit and mirrored dressing rooms opening onto a common area. A table has water bottles and a little basket of packaged cookies and snacks.
Sheila points us to our dressing rooms. “Oh, I love this!” Chloe squeals as she holds a yellow dress against her body.
I look at everything in my dressing room. It’s all hideous. And stupid. I pick out a hanger holding a teal dress with a fluted skirt. Who wears a dress to Thanksgiving dinner?
In my house, Thanksgiving has always been a dress-down meal. I wear jeans. Chloe wears jeans. Mom wears jeans. Dad used to wear jeans. Gran wears a skirt, but she’s Gran. She doesn’t wear a new skirt.
But that’s the past. I know that for sure now.
My heart is heavy as I look at the dresses around me. I sit down on the bench in my dressing room and massage my temples. On the other side of my closed door, I can hear Annie and Chloe complimenting each other on their dresses.
“Come show us something, Hayley!” Annie calls.
“Yeah, let’s see!” Chloe chimes in.
I sigh, looking down at my hiking boots. I guess I can’t wear these when I meet Annie’s parents. I look up at the dresses. One of them — a red one — has a rose on the sash. It’s made of some kind of gauzy fabric. I decide to try it on, since it’s the one that will look the most ridiculous with my boots. Maybe it will make me smile.
I get undressed, step into the delicate red dress, then step back into my untied hiking boots. I don’t even look in the mirror before walking through the door.
Chloe gasps when she sees me. “You look amazing!” She’s standing there in the yellow dress, which looks adorable on her. She’s barefoot, and gives a playful twirl to show how the skirt swirls around her legs.
“That looks nice,” I tell her.
Annie is looking at me, finger on her chin. She’s wearing a fitted silver dress that I would consider perfect attire for the Academy Awards. With her long black hair and light brown skin, she looks like a movie star. I feel like I’m on one of those makeover shows — and I’m the one being made over. “Would you spin, too, Hayley?” she asks.
I clomp in an awkward circle.
Annie comes over and grabs the dress under my armpits. Normally, I would have slapped her hands away, but I’m too shocked. She heaves it up, then stands back. “That’s a perfect fit,” she says. “And the color really makes your skin glow.”
“It’s lovely,” Chloe gushes.
It’s ug-lee, I want to tell them. It has a fake flower on it! “I don’t think it’s really me.”
“Okay — go try on something else!” Chloe says.
“Those dresses really aren’t my style,” I confess.
“You’re welcome to go look on the racks for something else,” Annie says.
“I don’t really want to —”
Chloe looks at me eagerly. “You should get this one, Hayley, it looks —”
“I said no!” I snap.
The dressing room is silent. I become aware of the elevator music being piped in over the speakers as I see the tears rise in Chloe’s eyes. I want to apologize, but Sheila chooses this moment to walk in. “Well, everyone, how are we doing?” she asks. “Oh, Chloe, that dress is wonderful on you.”
“Thank you,” Chloe says politely, but all of the joy has drained out of her.
“Chlo, I’m sorry —” I say, but my sister has already retreated into her dressing room.
“And how are you doing?” Sheila asks me. She gives me the up-and-down once-over. “I love that color on you.”
I exchange glances with Annie. She folds her arms awkwardly and looks down at her shoes. I feel sorry for her, and sorry for myself, and angry at her, and angry at myself, and I don’t know what to do because I don’t want this fancy Thanksgiving dinner. I just want my normal life. That’s all.
I bite my lip. “I’ll take this one,” I tell Sheila.
“Wonderful!” Sheila looks like I’ve made her day.
Well, I guess that makes one of us.
“Is that going to be enough?” Annie asks, eyeing my sandwich. “Do you want some chips or something?”
“Okay. Thank you.” Annie hands me a bag, and we exchange awkward smiles. We’re being extra polite to each other after my dressing-room outburst.
Dad pays for everything, and we head out into the food court with our trays.
My sandwich looks a little sad, sitting there on my plate. The top piece of bread is askew and some lettuce is spilling out. I could have made a better-looking sandwich in my own kitchen. But it doesn’t taste bad.
Annie and I are quiet as we eat, but Chloe and Dad are talking about a movie they both want to see. Chloe and Dad both love action comedies. So do I. Chloe says, “Should we see it? It’s playing in an hour.” The movie theaters are next to the food court. Why not?
“Sure,” I say, trying hard to sound excited. The red dress is in a bag at my feet, and I wonder how I’m ever going to get myself to wear it.
Chloe reaches for one of my potato chips, and when she pulls her hand back, she manages to knock over her own drink. Apple juice sloshes all over the table and onto Annie’s feet.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Chloe cries.
Annie’s first reflex is to go for the bags. She grabs them off the floor and holds them aloft as Chloe dabs the table with her flimsy napkin. It’s about as useful as a Kleenex would be for mopping up a tsunami.
“I’ll get more.” I dash to the counter, and just as I’m heading back with a huge brick of napkins, I spot my mom.
Happiness flashes through me, and I’m about to call out, when I realize where I am and who I’m with. It would be a complete horrorburger if Mom came over to our table. In an instant, I visualize Dad introducing Mom to Annie. I can hear Annie’s nervous giggles and see Mom’s brave smile.
Must. Not. Happen.
I turn my back on my mother and scoot back to our table.
“Quick,” Dad says, grabbing the napkins from my hands.
&nbs
p; Annie dabs at her shoes, which are suede, and I’m wondering how many pairs we will manage to ruin before she decides that it’s not worth hanging out with us anymore.
I wipe off my side of the table, and sneak a glance over at Mom’s table. Someone sits down across from her.
Oh.
Em.
Gee.
It’s Police Officer Ramon! This is … what is this? Is she on a date?
Make me disappear, I beg silently, just as Mom looks up at me. I see her face register the situation — Chloe apologizing profusely as Dad and Annie scramble to dry the table.
The wet napkins are heavy in my hand and I feel this moment driving us both forward…. Now Mom will meet Dad’s girlfriend; Dad will meet Mom’s date….
And then Mom looks away.
She looks away, like she didn’t even see me. Maybe she didn’t, I think. But I know she did.
My mother can’t deal with this situation. Neither one of us can, and — for some reason — I’m angry with her, but also relieved and disappointed in her all at once.
“Hayley, more napkins?” Dad asks, and I snap back to the moment. “Here,” I say, handing him some. We get the table cleaned up, and Dad offers to buy Chloe a new sandwich (hers drowned in the apple-juice flood) but she says she was finished, anyway.
“So, should we head to the movie?” Chloe asks.
For a moment, I’m afraid that maybe Mom will turn up in the same movie. But when I look over at her table, I realize that she and Officer Ramon have disappeared.
I wonder what she told him.
I don’t want Mom to meet Annie. The truth is, I don’t even want Mom to see Annie. Like, ever.
That’s because I don’t want Mom to realize that she’s seen Annie before.
She came to our house once, back when we used to live in a house, before we moved in with Gran.
About a year before Dad moved out, he dumped his low-paying job at the DA’s office to work for a glamorous law firm. Annie is a paralegal at the firm. She was a paralegal back then, too.
I remember coming home to find Dad and a beautiful young woman sitting at the dining table. Both were drinking from mugs and laughing over something one of them had said. I walked in, and the moment I saw Annie, my stomach dropped. I didn’t know why. I’d never had that reaction to a stranger before.
Dad introduced me to Annie. She tried to be friendly, but I made an excuse and left. I guess they were working on a case. I never asked.
Over a year later, Dad introduced me to his new girlfriend, Annie.
I never mentioned that we had already met.
Maybe Dad has forgotten that Annie came over. Maybe Annie forgot, too. But I think that they’re just hoping that I’ve forgotten. After all, it was just for a couple of minutes more than a year ago.
I don’t even know if Mom would remember Annie. I guess I just never wanted to take that chance. I don’t know what she would think of it.
I don’t know what I think of it.
But I do know one thing: Mom saw me at a table with Dad, Chloe, and Annie, and Mom didn’t say hello. She left.
I’m not sure what to make of that, either.
“Chlo,” I whisper into the darkness. “I’m sorry I snapped at you today.”
“When?”
“In the dressing room.” Sheesh, has she already forgotten? That’s so Chloe.
“It’s okay,” my little sister says. The room is quiet for a few moments. Chloe and I share a bedroom. We usually lie in our beds and chat for a while before we fall asleep. Suddenly, Chloe asks, “How come you don’t like Annie?”
The question lingers between us for a few moments while I try to come up with an answer. Right now, I can’t see her face. I wonder what she thinks I’ll say. Obviously, I’m not about to tell her that I think Annie may be part of the reason our parents broke up. Or that I think she’s Dad’s prettier replacement for Mom.
“Why don’t you like her?” Chloe repeats.
“I’m asleep,” I say at last.
“Come on, Hayley. She’s really nice.”
“Do I have to like her just because she’s nice?”
“Rupert says that you don’t like her because you don’t want to share our time with Dad.”
“Is Rupert my therapist now?” Seriously, I’m starting to think that Chloe’s best friend is a little too smart for his own good. Did someone ask his opinion? He’s in third grade! What does he know?
“But don’t you think that Dad is more fun with Annie around?”
“Not really.”
“So Rupert has a point?”
“I don’t know.”
Chloe sighs, and I stare at the shadowy curtains that turn the red neon from the tattoo place across the street into a rosy pink.
“I like Annie,” Chloe whispers.
I breathe in. I breathe out.
The truth is, I like Annie, too. I mean, she isn’t someone I would ever choose as my new best friend. But she is nice. And she means well. And she smells good.
But I still don’t want her around all the time.
Now I’m mad at Rupert.
Why does he have to be right?
The last bell of the day has rung and I’m on my way to watch Devon. I mean watch rehearsal. Of the school musical. Which Devon happens to be in.
Totally different.
Anyway, as I walk down the hall, I notice that people are smiling and chatting — there’s a weird energy in the hallway. I can practically feel the place buzzing, like a giant beehive.
“Silver paper,” I overhear Ayesha Miller say.
Alexis Toomey nods and grins. “But who —?”
A certain pink-haired friend of mine is standing beside the double doors to the auditorium. She’s grinning and rubbing her hands together, like an evil genius whose plan is starting to fall into place.
“Stop grinning,” I tell her.
“I can’t!”
“What did you do?”
She grabs my arm and whispers, “I covered Ben’s locker in silver foil!” She giggles and adds, “And stuck red hearts all over it.”
“Subtle,” I say.
“He nearly fainted when he saw it,” Meghan says.
“I’ll bet. Does he know it was you?”
“Of course not! Don’t be crazy. I just happened to be tying my shoe nearby, so I got to see his reaction.”
I look down at her ankle boots. “Those have zippers,” I point out.
“Like he was paying attention to my shoes!” Meghan lifts one eyebrow, giving me a You are so loony look. “He was too busy trying to pull the hearts off.”
“He didn’t want people to see it?” That doesn’t sound good.
“Of course not — guys get embarrassed about that stuff.”
“So — don’t you worry that you’re going overboard?”
“Overboard is where it’s at! Which is where you come in.”
“Oh, boy.” This is just like the pumpkin, I think. She’s trying to talk me into another one of her insane schemes.
“Don’t make that face! Just listen — I want you to make me a special cupcake for Ben. Something that says, ‘I’m crazy about you.’”
“How about something that just says, ‘I’m crazy’?” I suggest.
Meghan laughs, then gets serious. “I know you think I’m nuts.” She puts her palm to her forehead. “Maybe this is all a mistake. Am I nuts?”
I bite my lip. “Not in a bad way. I just … I don’t know how Ben will take all of this. He seems kind of shy.”
“He is…. But everyone likes to know that someone thinks they’re cool, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Wouldn’t you love it if someone decorated your locker and sent you secret notes?”
I think this over. “I probably would. But I’m not Ben.”
Meghan looks hurt. “You’re not going to help me?”
“Meg — what if this doesn’t turn out the way you want it to? I mean, he’s bound to find out who
the secret admirer is eventually. What if he doesn’t feel the same way about you?”
Meghan takes a deep breath. She peers down the hall, which has started to clear. “I guess I’ll be publicly humiliated.” Her finger twirls a strand of her orange hair. “But I still want to do it.” She looks at me with those blue eyes.
“Are you sure?”
She smiles and gives a one-shoulder shrug. “Well, I’ve come this far.”
I reach out and take her hand. “Okay,” I say at last. “Okay, Meg, I’ll make the cupcake.”
Meghan squeezes my hand, and she’s so happy that I know for sure that I’ve made the right decision. This isn’t like the pumpkin at all.
It may be a bad idea … but what good is a friend if she won’t get behind your bad ideas?
The front few rows of the auditorium are taken up with backpacks and lounging theater types who are playing cards and waiting for cues. Ms. Lang, the drama teacher and director, sits near the front, too, so I slip into a seat near the back to watch.
Artie and Devon are onstage. I watch for a while, trying to figure out what the scene is about. I can’t really tell. For one thing, Devon is using this accent that makes half of his words unintelligible. Also, I’m not even sure whether the accent is supposed to be British or Russian. He kind of just sounds like he’s taken too much cough syrup. Still, I can tell he’s a really good actor. He seems so involved in the scene. And when Artie bats her eyes at him and says, “Until tomorrow, then,” I feel a little sick. She watches him leave the stage, and the glance between them lingers.
Mr. Collins, the music teacher, starts pounding away at the piano, and Artie starts to sing. Artie has a big voice, and it fills the auditorium as she launches into the fun, fast number. The musical is something I’ve never heard of, but it’s about a pop star. The songs are catchy — stuff even my mom could hum along to. Artie’s song is something I’ve heard on the radio a thousand times, but with Artie’s voice, it has a whole new meaning. It sounds good. Even with the clunky piano as her only accompaniment, it sounds really good.
Confectionately Yours #2: Taking the Cake! Page 5
