I try on old clothes to see what I need to get through the summer. On a scale of one to ten with ten being the most exciting thing in the world, this is a minus five. After a quick overview of what fits, I have to admit that I can use a few shirts. And something more than the sports bra Mom calls my training bra. Boobilage. Dang.
I’m standing in my room in my underwear, and Odelia walks in. I grab a tee and shorts and throw them on. “Mom let you in?”
“Yes, and we had a perfect conversation,” she answers.
I shake my head because . . . well, that comment deserves a good head shake. I take in the whole Odelia scene. She has on a horseback riding outfit, complete with riding boots and weird leather things attached to her legs. I have no idea whether she’s wearing a regular riding outfit or something from the Dark Ages.
“Stop staring at me, Bernice,” Odelia pleads. She blushes, smoothes out her jacket, and attempts to flatten her puffed-out pants. “I had a riding lesson today with my trainer and my horse, Magnifico. We rode to the store. I made a purchase.”
I picture Odelia riding up to the local Stop ‘n Go, and parking her horse. I stifle a giggle. “Show me what you bought.”
Odelia opens a leather bag, pulls out five teen magazines, and spreads them on my bed. Every celebrity from current hip-hop stars to who’s hot in TV look up at me. I don’t know what to think.
“Look at this girl. She’s barely clothed!”
“It’s a bikini,” I tell her. “A bathing suit.”
“I see,” Odelia says. “I thought these pictures might help me help you with your style, but . . . oh, well.” Odelia perks up. “I still have an idea for you:
ODELIA’S GUIDE TO THE SOCIAL GRACES
LESSON 6: DRESS TO IMPRESS
OBJECTIVE: Bernice will acquire an individual style that incorporates fashionable trends. (Note to self: Bernice’s style to date resembles that of Lucan, a young boy from my former town who wears nothing but ill-fitting pants and dirty shirts. Lucan’s sole purpose in life is to hop on rocks in the stream, pretending it’s a moat filled with angry alligators.)”
Lucan is obviously a pretty cool kid. “Did you ever hop across that stream?” I ask.
“No. I do morning stretches, afternoon strolls, and have structured horseback riding lessons. And most recently, skateboarding.” Odelia’s eyes brighten when she says skateboarding, like skating is magical or something.
“That’s it? Haven’t you ever gone all out, gotten so wild that sweat drips off your eyelashes?”
“To perspire is not ladylike,” Odelia answers slowly. “That’s what Serena says.”
I get the distinct feeling she’s not buying what she’s selling. She pulls me in close.
“In the late evening, I go out to an open field beyond our home, and—” She cuts off mid-sentence, covers her mouth, and whispers, “And I run. I run like a wild deer. I like running as much as skateboarding. But Serena doesn’t approve of anything sporty, so I have to be careful.”
“Don’t you get tired of Serena’s rules?” I ask. Before she can answer, I grab Odelia’s hand and don’t let go until we’re outside. Then I take off down the driveway, and yell, “Bet you can’t catch me!”
Odelia checks across the street to make sure Serena’s not peering out of a window. Then she chases me to the end of the block and back. And wow! Is she fast! It’s as if a weight’s been lifted off her shoulders.
Exhausted, we fall on the lawn. Dad mowed the grass yesterday and the fresh, earthy smell tickles our noses. It reminds me of when I was little, and I’d set up a princess picnic out here on the grass and invite my stuffed animal servants.
I decide to roll down the hill, and Odelia does the same. We giggle like a bunch of preschoolers. At the bottom, we sit up and pick off the loose grass pieces that have stuck to our clothes.
“Fiddlesticks!” Odelia shouts, attempting to wipe away the green stains. “I’ve ruined my riding outfit. I’ll have to hide these clothes until new ones can be made by Serena’s favorite seamstress.”
“You don’t need a seamstress. My mom can wash these. And you can borrow a shirt and shorts from me.”
Odelia claps her hands. “I’d be so grateful.”
“Cool,” I say.
“Cool,” Odelia mimics. She does an enormous inhale like a yoga instructor. “I like the outdoors. Serena keeps me cooped up too much.”
Back in my room, Odelia changes while I plug my phone into my speakers and crank up a playlist.
“I’ve never heard such loud music,” Odelia comments. She flops on my bed and clicks her heels to the beat of a bass guitar.
Together we leaf through the magazines. Odelia stops on an article about an eighteen-year-old who is on safari. “My life is planned for me.” Her voice is scratchy and sad. “Given different circumstances, I’d venture away from Serena’s strict rule and expand my horizons. I’d travel the world and live in strange cultures, like the one pictured here. It’s Africa. I’d love to see Africa! I’d run up and down hills, ride elephants, and chase cheetas in automobiles called Jeeps.”
Whoa! Odelia dreams of more than proper behavior and princes? I show her a picture of a girl standing near a volcano, wearing hiking gear and carrying a camera. She takes a minute to study it, then flips it shut.
“We have much to do today. Serena is happy we’ve become friends. She says our shared experiences have enlightened us both. I won’t spoil her opinion. Let’s continue with our
