“Are you embarrassed?” Francie asked kindly.
Ginger jerked her head up. “Why would I be embarrassed?”
Francie shrugged. “You tell me.”
“Maybe I am wearing the panties that say Tuesday instead of Saturday,” Ginger replied. “Maybe the Saturday ones weren’t clean, and I had to just use what was there.”
Francie tipped her head to the side as she tried to figure out just what was happening. “You know that we will be sharing a room at the academy, right?”
Ginger nodded.
“And you know that the entire floor has to share a communal bathroom?”
Ginger visibly shuddered.
Francie sighed and went over to Ginger. After taking the papers out of her hands and trying to smooth the crumpled sheets, Francie asked once again, “I can barely read, Ginger, you know that. How would I know what was on your panties?”
Ginger let out a long breath and the fight that had lit her eyes seemed to fade with it. “It’s just, gah! I don’t even know how to describe it without sounding like a wet blanket. I’m not embarrassed, or maybe I am, but not for the reason that you think.”
Her hands were clutched tightly, and her breathing was rapid. Suddenly, Francie had a glimpse of what she looked like when people tried to force her to talk about her reading problem. Her eyes softened. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Ginger. I should have knocked. I’m sorry.”
Ginger’s body further relaxed, and the corner of her lip twitched. “You aren’t sorry, but I love you for saying it anyway.”
Francie barked out a laugh. “I don’t know whether to be miffed or not.”
Ginger smiled. “Definitely not. It was a compliment, believe me. Listen, I will tell you all about it. Just…not today.”
Francie nodded and then pasted on a bright smile as she changed the subject. “Fair enough. So, where is Betty? I can’t imagine that she would want to miss a shopping trip.”
“I’m not sure. Maybe she is meeting us there? I still can hardly believe that we all got into the academy. It will be strange to live in the dorms there instead of at home.”
They both looked around the cotton candy pink bedroom that Ginger’s mother had helped her decorate when she was nine years old.
Ginger snorted. “On second thought, it might be a good change of pace. I could do with a little less pink.”
Francie’s fake gasp of horror had both the girls laughing. It was a good deal later when Francie finally got around to asking Ginger the question that had plagued her since auditioning for the Academy. “What was your test like?”
Ginger, who was sprawled out on the floor flipping through records, looked up, asking, “Weren’t all the tests the same?”
Francie nodded a little too quickly, saying, “I am certain they were. I only just wondered how you handled it. What was the hardest part for you?”
“Well, it was so dark in there. I struggled at first trying to find my way through the maze. It wasn’t until I remembered that I had some matches in my purse that I made a torch and used that to see. Why? How did you get out of the maze?”
Francie’s stomach twisted, shame enveloping her. Had Dean done something to make her test easier? Or worse, had he arranged for her not to take the test at all?
Seeing that Ginger was still waiting for her response, Francie blurted out, “Oh, well, I did something similar. Yes, that maze was terrible, wasn’t it?”
Ginger seemed satisfied with her answer because she went back to shifting through her records. “It did have me wondering just how big it was inside the academy. From the outside it looks like a normal building, but that must be deceiving, because I wandered in the dark for over ten minutes without ever touching any walls. I was so thankful when I finally reached the trees. That’s when I remembered the matches. You know, I would think getting hedges to grow inside a building would be a rather daunting task. How do you think they did that?”
Francie felt ill. She hadn’t seen a maze, tree, or hedges, and it certainly wasn’t pitch black inside. Clearing her throat, she murmured, “I’ve no idea. How did Betty get through?”
Ginger’s face broke into a wide smile. “She went through the hedge. I don’t know how her skin wasn’t ripped to shreds, but it wasn’t. Trust Betty to pick the hardest way to solve the puzzle. She beat me by two minutes as well.”
The last thing Francie wanted was to talk about how she made it through in three minutes because there had been no tests for her. It was that rotten fink Dean. He probably arranged the whole thing to make her look stupid.
The longer she thought about it, the angrier she became. Suddenly no longer able to stand it, Francie hopped to her feet. “I’ve got to jet. I am sorry, Ginger. I just remembered something Mom needed me to do. Can we shop for uniforms tomorrow?”
Ginger eyed Francie. The distrust was evident as she answered, “Sure, we can make sure Betty can come along as well.”
Francie turned on her heel, barely uttering her goodbye, and then she was off. Down the stairs, across the living room, out the front door—with every step she moved with more purpose. How dare he assume that she couldn’t take the same test that everyone else did?
It was moments later that she was pounding on Dean Woods’ front door. On the second knock, the door swung open and there he stood, every dreamy inch of him. Francie’s eyes narrowed as she bit out the words, “I know what you did, Dean.”
His eyes widened but he didn’t speak.
“I don’t know what you think you know, but you are wrong, and I am going to prove it. You have no idea what I am capable of.” With that, Francie spun on her heel and started to march away.
Before she had left the yard, she heard his deep voice say, “I’m looking forward to it.”
Temper spiking, Francie turned around, shoving her arms out at him. It was ridiculous because he was clear across the yard, still leaning on the door frame as he watched her in amusement.
A choked laugh escaped his lips as he added, “You need direction, Francie Everette.”
“And you need a muzzle,” she called back over her shoulder, this time not looking back as she walked away.
Chapter Eight
“You are awfully pretty,” Betty grumbled as she pulled a chair over to where Francie was trying on a pile of skirts.
Francie eyed her skeptically. “Um, thank you. Where’d that come from?”
“Nowhere, it’s just…I wish that I was pretty,” Betty said wistfully as she ran her hand over the soft plaid fabric.
Francie scoffed. “You don’t want to be me.”
“Of course I do!” Betty straightened. “If I were pretty, the boys would notice me, and I would know how to fix my hair and makeup. I would know what clothes to wear and what witty things to say so that I didn’t sound like such a square.”
“Boys’ attention is not all it’s cracked up to be,” Francie grumbled, thinking of one boy in particular before banishing him from her mind.
Betty turned to study her small frame in the mirror. Dressed in the castoffs from the local thrift shop, Betty didn’t know what it was like to shop at fancy stores or to wear new outfits. Her older sister Rachel cut her hair because her Uncle Buck didn’t see the point of a hairdresser.
“Maybe if I changed the way I…” Betty let her voice trail off as she looked down at her clothes. They were clearly two sizes too big.
“No,” Francie said firmly. “Stop thinking like that, Betty. There is nothing wrong with the way you look. You are pretty and normal. That’s a good thing.”
Betty huffed and plopped down on the extra chair in the changing room. “Uncle Buck said that he doesn’t have the money for my uniforms. I didn’t want to say anything, but I can’t go to the academy.”
Francie immediately stopped buttoning the skirt she had been trying on. “Betty, I am so sorry.”
Betty picked her chin up. Pride radiated from her. “It’s not a big deal. I can finish up high school at St.
Mary Margaret’s.”
“No,” Francie breathed, but Betty wasn’t done.
“It’s fine. I can play tuba again in the band—nobody ever wants that instrument. And I can listen as the greasers make fun of me because I am the smallest person carrying the biggest instrument. It’s going to be great.” Her voice cracked on the last word. But she swung around and glared at Francie with glassy eyes. “And I don’t want you to do anything about it. Do you hear me? I won’t be anyone’s charity case, Francie. I won’t.”
Francie knew all about that. She nodded once. “Fine, I won’t do anything. But we have a few weeks left before school starts. Why are you giving up? I thought your Uncle Buck said that you could work in his surf shop?”
Betty laughed, but the sound didn’t hold any mirth. “Yeah, he did. But have you seen the tuition, Francie? It would take three times what I make to even hope to pay for the academy.”
Francie’s head popped up. She might struggle with reading, but there was nothing wrong with her math skills.
“No,” Betty said firmly.
Francie’s face split into a wide smile.
“No!” Betty stomped her ratty Oxford’s. “You just promised!”
Francie’s eyes glittered as her idea began to take wings. “No, I promised not to make you a charity case. I never promised that we couldn’t earn the money fair and square.”
“I won’t take the money you earn,” Betty said in a mortified tone.
“Get off your high horse,” Francie said with a huff. “What’s yours is mine and vice versa. I know you don’t want me to get the parents involved, and you don’t want to embarrass your Uncle Buck. However, if the three of us manage to come up with the dough, there is no reason why you can’t go. Right?”
A flicker of hope crossed Betty’s face before she attempted to squash it. “I couldn’t.”
Francie grinned. “But you will. Now, if you work with your Uncle Buck, that just leaves me and Ginger needing jobs. I saw a sign in Sparks Soda Shop that they needed a new fountain jerk.”
Betty’s eyes bulged. “You?”
Francie scoffed. “Hardly. That can go to Ginger. I heard they needed more swimming lesson instructors at the pool.”
“You’re not the best, erm, swimmer.”
Francie’s brows snapped together.
Betty swallowed. “And you don’t like getting your hair wet.”
“I really don’t see where you are going with this, Betty.” Francie hopped up and changed back into her original outfit. She then opened the dressing room door and yelled out for Ginger, who was in the next room.
“What?” Ginger gasped as she tugged at the hem of her bulky sweater.
Francie poured out her idea as Ginger listened. Despite the many interruptions from Betty, Ginger and Francie began to make plans. They had gotten each other this far; there was no way they would go on and leave Betty behind at St. Mary Margaret’s.
With a squeal, the girls raced through the department store, snagging bathing suits for Francie to try on. It warmed Francie’s heart to see that Betty was once again their happy-go-lucky friend.
The girls burst into peals of laughter as Francie came out in another terrible swimming suit. This one was bright pink and covered in flamingos.
“It looks like you have a beak pointing to your womanly parts,” Betty said, laughing as she pointed to the bodice of the horrible swimming suit.
Francie turned to look again into the mirror. Indeed, it did look as if the cheeky flamingo was rounding second base. She had tried on half a dozen suits, none of which were the two-piece ones that Betty had picked out.
“Go try on the suit with the red top and navy bottoms.” Betty shoved the two-piece bathing suit into Francie's hands. “I mean it!”
The door shut behind her as Francie pulled the cute sailor-inspired bathing suit on her body. The cheery red looked amazing against her milky white skin and the jaunty bow between her bosom made it a little less obvious that she wasn’t very well-endowed. She looked cute—pretty, even.
“Come out here!” Ginger called. “We want to see!”
“Keep your shirt on!” Francie growled back. “I’m coming.”
Her hands smoothed over her navy-clad hips. The suit took her non-existent curves and made her hips curvy and her waist look tiny.
St. Mary Margaret’s meatloaf. She looked like a pin-up girl.
“Francie!” the girls wailed from just outside the door.
With a sigh, Francie flung the door open, saying, “Hey, Sailor, looking for a ride in my dingy?”
Three pairs of shocked eyes took in Francie from head to foot.
Betty was the first to speak as she clapped her hands together and squealed, “It’s perfect!”
Ginger was nodding in solidarity with Betty, but Francie wasn’t paying close attention to either of them. Her eyes were locked on Dean Woods, captain of the football team, bane of her existence, and only the hottest boy in school.
And she was standing there in little more than her underwear.
“Not a chance,” Dean rasped, his eyes lit with something that Francie didn’t understand.
Francie’s chin tipped up. “You don’t like it?”
Dean’s eyes flared with something that made Francie want to take a step back. But she knew that this wasn’t the time to show fear. Somehow, she managed to take another step closer, noting the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed—hard.
“They will be lined up for miles to take swimming lessons from you in that suit, Francie! Thank you!” Betty threw her arms around Francie in a hug so fierce and desperate that Francie knew she would be buying the blasted suit.
Dean’s eyes narrowed into slits and then he stalked off without saying goodbye.
“What was that all about?” Ginger asked.
Francie shrugged, not wanted to get into a discussion about Dean Woods. She still wasn’t sure what she thought of him, and she certainly didn’t have any words to describe the strange effect he had on her.
“Miss, do you want me to wrap that for you?” the salesclerk interrupted.
Francie nodded and then went back into the room to change. She wasn’t sure why, but suddenly life seemed just a little bit brighter.
Chapter Nine
CHAPTER 9-
“Francie!” Ginger hissed as they left the department store.
“I think he’s sweet on you.” Ginger’s eyes were alit with excitement. “Did you see the way his Adam’s apple kept bobbing up and down? That was bloody brilliant. How did you do that?”
Francie felt faint as she uttered, “Do what?”
“You were so hip, standing there in practically nothing. I thought his eyes were going to gobble you up!” Betty gushed. “It was amazing. I wish I had taken notes!”
Francie clutched Ginger’s arm, saying, “He is the hippest guy in school. There is no possible way he could be sweet on me. He kisses more girls than there are frogs in the creek!”
Ginger tried not to smile at the horrified expression on Francie’s face.
“I don’t know about the creek or the frog population. But I do know boys, and Francie, that boy liked what he saw.”
She turned Francie around to look in the glass of the neighboring storefront.
“You have to open your eyes, dummy,” Betty teased gently.
Francie stuck out her tongue but eventually opened her eyes. “I don’t see anything different about me.”
“Because you aren’t looking with the right eyes,” Ginger said. “You see everything that’s wrong, but nothing that is right.”
Francie turned her gaze on Ginger. “Really? I know somebody else who does the same thing.”
Ginger’s quickly indrawn breath let Francie know that she had made her point.
The three girls started once again toward home.
“I don’t understand.”
Francie and Ginger turned to look at Betty. “Why do you wear the baggy clothes?”
Ginger flushed and took a step back, but Betty reached her hand out to stop her. “I am not trying to be rude. Trust me,” she broke off with a depreciating grin, “I would be the last person to poke fun of anyone. I just wondered, because your family doesn’t make you wear secondhand. I know you are smart and beautiful, but you seem to want to hide that. Why?”
Ginger crossed her arms over her chest. Taking a deep breath, she began speaking. “When I started to…” She cleared her throat, not sure how to go on.
“Develop?” Francie guessed.
Ginger nodded. “It was like my body didn’t know when to stop. It just kept going and going. I started to feel fat and ugly. I know that I was overly self-conscious. But it was right about that time when I heard some of the basketball team talking about their girlfriends. They weren’t very respectful.”
Betty reached her hand out and touched Ginger’s arm. “I am so sorry.”
Ginger shook her head. “It wasn’t terrible. But they didn’t say anything about how smart their girlfriends were. All the boys seemed to care about was how the girl looked. I don’t know, something snapped inside of me. It reminded me of something my dad had said, about me just being a girl.”
Francie’s eyes widened. “He didn’t.”
“I didn’t want people to only see this,” Ginger said, motioning to her body. “I thought it would be easier to just hide them. And then after I started that, I wasn’t sure how to stop. Everyone always knew me as the smart girl, and I was good at being the smart girl. I am a smart girl. I don’t want that to change. I don’t want to give up my dreams just because I am a girl.”
Francie wrapped an arm around Ginger and looped the other one through Betty’s. “First off, you are not just a girl. You are the swankiest smart girl I know. Who says that they get to decide what it means to be a girl? Why can’t you have the best of both worlds?”
Ginger looked hesitantly at Francie. “That’s not the world we live in.”
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