At Winnie’s, Roxanne and I sit on top of a picnic table cooling off with our favorite icy treats. I ask her how things went in New York.
“Dumb and dumber,” Roxanne answers. “The producer liked me for that acne commercial and my mom went insane with joy. Filming starts in a couple of weeks. With my luck, it’ll air at the beginning of school. I’ll be nicknamed Zit Girl or Dip Zit. Ugh.” Roxanne looks around. “Do you think he’ll come?”
“Who?” I ask, faking cluelessness.
“The one in the baseball uniform? Remember?”
And in that instant, the van pulls up and Wyatt steps out. He shouts, “Hey, Dude, awesome skate sesh.” He salutes me with his glove and steps in line with his team.
Roxanne sidles up to me turning a sickly green. She hisses, “He knows who you are? I’ve been gone, what, like a couple of days!”
“His name is Wyatt. He skates,” I explain.
“At that park? The park you hang out at?”
I nod. “He’s helping me with the Lawrence County Skate-Off.”
Roxanne doesn’t ask about the skate-off. She’s got boy on her brain. “So, it’s not like he’s your boyfriend?”
“NO! Not like that at all.” I’m about to give her a nice girlfriend punch, but I remember Odelia’s never-ever-ever-use-violence speech, and leave my fist anchored to my side. “I’m not even sure we’re friends. He doesn’t even know my name.”
“Can I be his friend?” Roxanne asks. She slurps her treat and peeks out over the top of the big cup.
I shrug and act like I don’t care. Roxanne and I don’t say much to each other as we walk back to my house.
“Hey, Roxy, Super Stylist to the Stars, you want to come in and do my hair?” I ask.
Roxanne jumps and claps like a cheerleader. “Duh. YES!”
It doesn’t take much to get me back on Roxanne’s good side. She gabs about the latest hairstyles all the way to my room. She makes me stand in the middle and does a complete 360, walking around me, checking out my hair. She shoves it up, pats it down, and runs her fingers through the curls. “Did you always wear your bangs this way? To the side?” she asks.
I want to tell her it was Odelia’s idea, but if I mention her, I’ll have to update Roxanne on everything. I shrug a shoulder like I don’t remember.
Roxanne studies my hair some more. “If you straighten those bangs, they won’t sit like curly fries above your eyebrows.”
I picture a poodle whose groomer brushes her matted fur until it’s manageable. I’m about to be poodle-ized.
“Do you even own a straightener?” Roxanne asks.
“My mom bought me one for Christmas, but I haven’t taken it out of the box. It’s in the bathroom cabinet. Under the sink.”
Roxanne squeals, “Christmas in July! While I’m getting that, you can hunt down a pair of sharp scissors.”
***
The Big Bad Bug
Having dinner with Dad is like sitting in a room with air freshener called Dead Fish. He’s been out since dawn scooping up defenseless minnows and clams to sell as bait in the store. “Six more weeks till school starts, Bern,” he says through a mouthful of roast beef. “Middle school. Cool beans, kiddo.” Dad gets up to put his plate in the sink and gives Mom a squeeze. “Great dinner, hon.” He skips the minute-long thank-you-for-being-a-great-cook smooch, which I appreciate. “Ellie, our daughter is growing up,” he reminds her.
“She’s still my baby,” Mom says, pinching my cheek. She gently moves her hand under my chin and tilts it toward the light. “There’s a difference in you, but I can’t decide what it is. Do you see it, George? Our daughter seems to have a spiffy new maturity about her.”
“Right on,” Dad adds.
Will my parents ever officially graduate to the current decade?
I pull away from Mom, tear off a piece of bread, eat it, and let lose a wet burp to convince them I’m not that mature. It amazes me that they can’t figure out that Roxanne cut my hair three inches shorter, layered it, and straightened it.
“Odelia stopped by while you were out,” Mom says. “She must have been coming from Smile Academy because she was dressed in the most funkadelic chartreuse gown I’ve ever seen. She said she’d stop back after dinner.”
“Okay,” I say. I’ve got to get Odelia out of those ridiculous gowns.
After I help Mom clean up the kitchen, I go across the street and knock on Odelia’s door. A butler answers—a real, walking, breathing, dressed-like-a-penguin, butler! He introduces himself as Gerard, invites me in, and calls out, “Miss Odelia, a guest awaits you in the parlor.”
I don’t have to wait long for Odelia and that’s a relief. She flies down a winding staircase, and says, “I was hoping you’d stop over. Let’s go outside and talk.”
I wasn’t planning a full-out stroll with the princess. What if someone sees me?
After half a block of speed walking, Odelia slows down. “Bernice! Your hair! It’s lost its curl. This often happens at puberty.”
I am not discussing the P word with Odelia. No way. As Odelia attempts to fluff my bangs, I run defense. “My friend, Roxanne, cut it. And it got straight on purpose with this heated thing called a straightener. Short, straight hair is easy to take care of. I bet you think it’s not right for me, but I like it, and—”
Odelia puts her hand on my shoulder. “Don’t fret. I was about to say that it suits you. Now, tell me about Wyatt.”
I fill Odelia in on what happened at the park.
“You talked to him. You didn’t mumble? That’s wonderful!” She darts around, and with that greenish yellow gown on, she reminds me of a big lightning bug. Before she gets out of control, she checks herself and smoothes out the wing-like ruffles that hang from her waist. No way could I ever
