That did seem late. But how could he be hungry after eating all that cake and candy?
Just then, I was distracted by the sound of the doorbell ringing. When I got to the door, Sarah was already there. A girl her age stood on the stoop. “Can I go out and play with Elizabeth?” Sarah asked. “She lives next door.”
“I guess that’s okay,” I agreed. “Don’t leave the yard, though.”
Sarah ran to get her coat. Elizabeth and I followed her. We stood together in the kitchen, waiting for Sarah. “Hiya, Normy,” said Elizabeth, who was a small girl with red curls. “Eating again, huh?”
Elizabeth looked at me. “Guess what they call him in school. Enormous Hill! Isn’t that funny?”
“No, I don’t think it’s funny,” I replied.
“What’s not funny?” asked Sarah, coming into the kitchen.
“Enormous Hill,” Elizabeth told her. “It is so funny. You see, they say Enormous instead of Norman because it sounds like Norman, and since Norman is enormous and his last name is Hill they call him —”
“I understand,” I cut her off. “I just don’t think it’s funny.”
Elizabeth looked at me as if I had no sense of humor. Sarah shot a disapproving look at Norman. “Stop eating!” she shouted.
In response, Norman took his sandwich and walked off to the living room. “You’re not allowed to eat in there!” Sarah called after him.
Norman didn’t reply. “He isn’t supposed to eat in there,” Sarah told me. “It’s my mother’s rule.”
“I’ll take care of it,” I told her. “You and Elizabeth go outside and play.”
I was relieved when I heard the door slam. Poor Norman. Not only was his sister a tyrant, her friend was a bully!
Enormous Hill. What a mean name. That’s one thing I don’t get about kids. Why are they so cruel sometimes?
“Sarah’s gone,” I said, as I entered the living room. “Why don’t you take that sandwich back to the kitchen?” I really didn’t have to worry at that point. Norman had downed most of the sandwich already.
He got up from the couch and brought his plate back to the kitchen. I was surprised to see him put back his jars, wipe the table, and place his dish in the dishwasher. Most boys his age aren’t that neat. But then I wondered if it was more than being neat. Maybe it was also another way to hide the fact that he’d been eating.
When that was done, Norman sat down and started on his Oreos. “Sarah and Elizabeth were pretty rough on you,” I said, settling myself beside him. “Are you okay?”
“I’m used to it,” said Norman, as he popped a cookie into his mouth. “It’s not just Sarah. It’s everybody. My whole family bugs me about my weight.”
“What do they do?” I asked.
“My mother is always taking me to these doctors. At first my parents thought something was the matter with my glands. They thought that’s why I’m fat. But the doctors said no. I just eat too much.”
“What did the doctors say to do?”
“They gave me all these yucky diets to go on,” Norman said, making a face. “My mother cooks stuff like kale and okra. Really gross stuff.”
“I like kale,” I said.
“Then you’re strange,” Norman replied. “That stuff’s horrible. Guess where my parents are sending me this summer.”
“Where?” I asked.
“To Fat Camp,” he said grimly.
“You mean a weight reduction camp?”
“Yup. Fat Camp.”
“Maybe it will help,” I suggested.
Norman shook his head. “I don’t want to go to camp. It’s for eight weeks. I don’t want to go away for the whole summer. I’m not going. They can’t make me.”
“Did you tell your parents how you feel?”
“Yeah,” Norman replied. “They said if I lose twenty pounds, I don’t have to go.”
“Then there’s the solution!” I said. “You have to stick to a diet and lose twenty pounds.”
Norman sighed and glumly propped his chin in his hands. “I like to eat. I don’t want to stop eating. I get sick of everyone telling me what to do.”
Just then, a snowball hit the kitchen window. I got up and looked outside. In the backyard Sarah and Elizabeth had built a snowman. It had only two sections. A small head with rocks forming the features of his face, and a big bottom. The snowman was all out of whack. The body was too big for the head.
Sarah and Elizabeth saw me looking. Sarah fiddled with her mitten. There was a guilty look on her face.
Then I saw why.
Elizabeth was laughing and pointing with a stick to the snow in front of the snowman. In the snow were written the words, Enormous Hill.
When I walked in my front door that evening, I was feeling pretty bad. I wasn’t sick or anything, just sad.
I felt so sorry for Norman Hill. Before I could stop him, he’d come to the window and looked out at the fat snowman. You should have seen his face. It would have broken your heart.
“They’re just trying to make you mad, Norman,” I said.
“It’s okay,” he replied. “I’m used to it.”
Later, when I looked out the window again, the snowman was smashed. I wondered if Sarah had done it. Was she feeling guilty? Maybe she just didn’t want to get in trouble.
Poor Norman. He didn’t even get a break when his mother came home. Mrs. Hill is a small, thin woman. Sarah looks exactly like her. The minute she walked in the door, Sarah told her mother that Norman had been eating in his room. “And he’s been eating all day long,” Sarah added, as she followed her mother up the stairs.
“Is that true?” Mrs. Hill asked me, before even saying hello. (So far, Mr. and Mrs. Hill were not winning any popularity votes with me.)
Norman and I were sitting at the kitchen table. He was showing me a book he’d just gotten. It was The Marvel Encyclopedia of Super Heroes. I’ve never been big on super heroes, but Norman made it seem kind of interesting.
“He did have a few snacks,” I admitted to Mrs. Hill. (Luckily, Norman wasn’t eating at the moment.) “But I wouldn’t say he was eating all day long,” I added quickly.
“He was too!” Sarah insisted.
Mrs. Hill just sighed as she opened the refrigerator and stared into it wearily. She pulled out a bowl of tuna salad. Taking a clean plate from the dishwasher, she plopped a large spoonful of tuna on it. “Here’s your supper Norman,” she said, sticking a fork into the mound of tuna and placing it in front of him. “How was your day, sweetheart?”
“All right, I guess. I had fun with Dawn,” he answered.
“I’m glad,” she told him with a small smile, though she didn’t ask what we had done or anything else. Mrs. Hill paid me as I put on my coat. “You did a fine job,” she said, walking me to the door. “Just don’t let Norman eat so much next time you come.”
I was still thinking about the Hills as I stood at our stove and cooked a soybean burger. The rest of my family had already eaten supper. Mom and Richard were at a PTA meeting. Jeff had gone back to California, and Mary Anne was studying at Logan’s.
It was odd having the house so empty and quiet. Odd but nice. I wouldn’t want to be alone all the time, but I like it once in awhile.
I wasn’t alone for long, though. The front door slammed, and Mary Anne came bounding into the kitchen. Her eyes were lit with excitement. “We have an official date,” she told me. “I’m going to mark it on the calendar.” She went to the wall calendar and wrote LBA in the box for January thirteenth. Then she drew a big star around the letters.
“What’s LBA?” I asked as I took my burger to the table.
“Lewis Bruno arrives!” she said brightly. “I was there when he phoned. I even spoke to him. Oh, Dawn, he seems so nice! He sounds just like Logan. He has that same cute accent, and even his voice is the same. It’s unbelievable. You’re going to like Lewis so much.”
Suddenly a clump of soybean burger got stuck in my throat.
I stood up and started
coughing. Mary Anne hopped around me anxiously. “Are you okay?”
“Water,” I sputtered.
Quickly, Mary Anne got me some. In a minute I was okay.
“Was it something I said?” Mary Anne asked.
“Maybe. January thirteenth is just a week from today. I can’t be ready by then.”
“Ready?” Mary Anne asked. “What do you have to do?”
“Oh, um, nothing,” I stammered. “I don’t know why I said that.”
Mary Anne looked confused. I hadn’t told her, or anyone, about my plan to make myself more attractive to boys. I’d decided Lewis would be my test case. If I could make him like me — I mean really like me — then I would know what to do with boys in general.
I should have been able to tell this to Mary Anne. You can usually tell her just about anything, and she tries to understand. But somehow I felt funny about it.
To be honest, I was a little embarrassed. I’d always thought Mary Anne looked up to me. (At least a little.) I thought she saw me as secure and confident. I didn’t want to shatter her image of me as an individualist.
Boy, was I wrong.
As it turned out, I wasn’t the only one who thought I could use a makeover. Mary Anne thought so, too!
I didn’t discover this until that evening. I’d gone up to my room with a stack of fashion magazines. I’d borrowed them from Stacey the week before. I’m usually not terribly interested in that stuff. This was why I still hadn’t gotten around to looking through them. But there was no time left. Lewis was coming in a week. I had to get going on my makeover — and fast.
As I thumbed through the magazines, I tried to find ways to add some pizzazz to my looks. According to the first magazine I skimmed through, my clothes were way too baggy. I like wearing loose clothing because it’s comfortable. This was apparently all wrong. There were no baggy clothes in the magazine.
Next I realized I would need more makeup. The magazines tell you what to wear. (Boy, do they tell you. It sounds so complicated! They should give college courses on applying makeup. Highlighter along the brow bone and upper temples. Three different shades of eyeshadow for different “quadrants” of your eye. Lip “fixer,” then lip liner, then lipstick, then lip gloss. It made my algebra assignments seem easy.)
As I read an article called “Fixing Facial Flaws,” Mary Anne came into the room. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“Nothing,” I replied.
Mary Anne took the magazine from my lap. “Wow! Dawn, I’ve never seen you look through something like this. What’s up?”
“I was just curious,” I said.
Mary Anne sat on the edge of my bed and flipped through the pages. She seemed to be searching for something in particular. “I was looking through this issue at Stacey’s house, and I saw an outfit and a hairstyle that would be great on you,” she said excitedly. “The girl even looks like you. I didn’t mention it because I thought you might think it was dumb. But since you don’t, I’ll show you.”
Mary Anne found the page. “Here, what do you think?” she asked, as she handed me back the magazine. It was a full-color picture of a girl standing on some rocks overlooking the ocean. Her hair was long and blonde like mine. But it was super wavy. Probably permed. She wore a light blue unitard that reached just below her calves. Over the unitard was a very short (the caption said “bolero-style”) faded blue denim jacket with all sorts of clunky pins on the top pockets.
Her face was made up a little more heavily than some of the other models in the magazine. She seemed to have on more eye makeup. The makeup went with her expression. It was kind of tough and serious.
“I wonder how I’d look with a perm,” I considered.
“We could find out,” said Mary Anne. “We’ll set it with electric rollers. Of course, it won’t be permanent, but you’ll get the idea.”
“Do we have electric rollers?” I asked.
“Your mom does. Want me to get them?”
“Sure. Why not?” I said, trying to sound casual. It was as if Mary Anne were reading my mind.
Mary Anne ran out of the room. In a moment she came back with electric rollers, a curling iron, and a clear plastic box loaded with makeup. I’d forgotten Mom even had all this stuff. Nowadays she just blow-dried her hair and used a little eye makeup and lipstick.
I sat on the bed, and Mary Anne plugged in the rollers and the curling iron. We had to wait for them to warm up. “Let’s see how you’d look with some makeup,” she suggested.
“I don’t know much about putting it on,” I admitted.
“I’ll do it,” Mary Anne volunteered. She flipped through the same magazine once more. “Here’s a step-by-step makeover. It tells you exactly what to do. I’m sure I can follow the directions.”
Pretty soon the curlers were warmed up. Mary Anne used all of them, and even that wasn’t enough to curl my hair. “That’s why I brought in the curling iron,” she explained. “I’ll curl up the bottom while the top is baking.”
Once the bottom was curled and the top rollers were out, I looked as though I had three times as much hair. It was hilarious. “You gave me Dolly Parton hair!” I cried, half laughing, half worrying.
“We haven’t combed it yet,” said Mary Anne. “First let’s put on the makeup.” Mary Anne piled all the curls on top of my head. Then she began sorting through Mom’s makeup box.
“Okay, we’ll start with some foundation,” she said, opening the bottle of flesh-toned liquid. Mary Anne put the foundation on with a steady hand. I was surprised at how assured she seemed. Especially since she doesn’t wear much makeup herself.
“How did you get so good at this?” I asked.
“I’m just doing what they say in the magazine,” she explained, as she brushed blush on my cheeks. “I think it must be easier to make up someone else than to make up yourself.” She worked a bit longer, putting on eye makeup and lipstick. “Makeup’s done,” she announced, blotting my lips with a tissue.
Then Mary Anne told me to put my head between my knees and brush out my hair. As I did that, she spritzed the underside of my hair with small blasts from a can of hair spray. “Stacey told me about this,” she explained. “It’s supposed to give your hair volume.”
When I finally stood in front of the mirror, I was stunned. Mary Anne was a genius! I did look like the girl in the magazine. (Pretty close, anyway.)
“Lewis is going to fall madly in love when he sees you,” Mary Anne commented.
“You really think so?” I asked, staring into the mirror. “Do you really think Lewis will like me like this?”
“He’s got to. You’re a knockout,” said Mary Anne.
Suddenly I had an idea. “I want to send him a picture of me the way I look right now. That way he won’t be too surprised when we meet.”
“Great idea,” Mary Anne agreed. “I’ll get the Polaroid.” While she was gone, I changed clothes. I pulled off my big sweat shirt. But I didn’t know what else to put on.
I wanted something really daring. The kind of thing I didn’t own. I’d seen lots of off-the-shoulder tops in the magazines. I didn’t have one, of course — but it was easy to create one.
“What are you doing?” Mary Anne said, gasping, as she came back into the room.
I was cutting a red long-sleeved T-shirt part-way down the front. “You’ll see,” I told her. I put on the T-shirt, tucking in both sides of the front. “Ta-da!” I sang, slipping the shoulders down my arm.
“You look great,” Mary Anne said. “I know! Toss your hair over one shoulder so your earrings show.”
I stood by our bedroom window and did what she said. Mary Anne aimed the camera at me. “Say cheese!”
At first, I started to smile. Then I stopped myself. Instead, I puffed out my lower lip and glared into the camera.
“What kind of face is that?” Mary Anne asked, putting down the camera.
“I’m trying to look like the girl in the magazine,” I explained. “You know, mysterious and
alluring.”
“It might work,” Mary Anne agreed. She raised the camera again and snapped the picture. In a few minutes the photo was developed. I couldn’t believe it. It was as if I were seeing a picture of someone else.
“You really should be a model,” Mary Anne commented, as she looked at the photo.
I took it from her. “Lewis Bruno, look out,” I said. “Here comes the new Dawn.”
Claudia got the job at the Hills’ house during a Wednesday afternoon BSC meeting. Stacey picked up the phone and talked to Mr. Hill. He wanted someone for Thursday at three-thirty. Mr. Hill had a new, important client. He had lots of meetings scheduled. He said he’d be calling often in the next couple of weeks. Claud took the job, since she was the only one of us who was free.
I had told her about my experiences with Sarah and Norman, so she was prepared. But I still think she was glad that Norman was at his after-school program when she arrived at his house. For one thing, it meant she wouldn’t have to stop Sarah from picking on Norman. I’d warned Claud about that.
Do you want to hear something interesting? Every sitter has a slightly different reaction to the kids we sit for. For example, I really didn’t like Sarah Hill all that much. But Claud wound up liking her a lot.
It might be because they are both artistic. And maybe because Claud understands how it feels to have a brother or sister who is sort of odd. Claud’s sister, Janine, isn’t fat, but she is a little odd. She’s a genius. And she can be extremely annoying. She’s always telling you when you’ve made a mistake. Janine is not very popular. (I think maybe Claud does badly in school because she doesn’t want to be anything like Janine.)
Anyway, as I said, Claud and Sarah really hit it off.
Claud was giving Sarah a drawing lesson when something awful happened. (I’m glad I wasn’t there to see this.) Claudia and Sarah stopped what they were doing because they heard the sound of shouting outside. “Enormous Hill! Oink! Oink! Hey, Enormous Hill!”
When Claud reached the front door, a snowball slammed right into the glass. Luckily it didn’t break. The kids were throwing snowballs at Norman. As soon as they saw Claud, they turned and ran. Cowards.
Dawn's Big Date Page 4
