Foiled

by Taylor Morris

  CHAPTER 8

  Ah, yes. First day on the job—I remembered it well. The panicked feeling that I was doing everything wrong, the silly mistakes I made, the embarrassment of messing up in front of so many people.

  I had to admit, Saturdays were tough days to start at the salon, what with Be Gorgeous and all. The demo didn’t start until a little later in the afternoon, so Lizbeth had some time to either get into a groove or flip out and go home. I kept an eye on her as I swept the stations, once or twice getting called upon (read: snapped at) to pay better attention.

  Later in the morning, I stole a moment to go to the front to see how she was doing. We hadn’t gotten to hang around each other like I’d imagined, and I hoped she wasn’t miserable and bored—or overwhelmed.

  The lounge was full of women waiting patiently, reading magazines and chatting with one another. I did a little sweeping near the manicure station right behind reception so I could say hi to Lizbeth and make sure she wasn’t freaking out or messing up too badly. But what I saw wasn’t a panicked first-day-er, but someone who looked like she was totally in her element.

  “Hi, Ms. Adams!” Lizbeth greeted a woman who had just come in, her hair wrapped in a green and white silk scarf. “How are you?”

  “Lizbeth, darling, hello! I didn’t know you worked here,” Ms. Adams said as she untied her scarf, revealing gorgeous salt-and-pepper hair in a tidy chin-length bob.

  “It’s for a school project. You’re here to see . . .” She looked at the monitor. “Piper! She’s just finishing up. Can I get you something to drink?” The phone rang just as Megan walked a lady to the back to get changed.

  “Yes, thank you. Sparkling water, dear. I haven’t seen you playing tennis at the club lately.”

  “I’m starting up again after this school project. Hello, Gorgeous!” Lizbeth said, without even taking a breath as she picked up the phone. While she chatted with the person on the call about which day she wanted to come in, she reached back to grab a bottle of sparkling water off the side table, twisted off the top, and handed it to Ms. Adams—all with a smile on her face.

  I couldn’t believe it. It was like she’d been working here for five hundred years.

  Where were the first-day-on-the-job blunders like I’d had? Where was her—what did Mom once call it? Her learning curve? Unlike me, it seemed that Lizbeth was a natural.

  “Step on it, kid,” Piper said to me as she came up front to see off one client and greet Ms. Adams. She grinned to show she was joking, but I also think she sort of meant it because, truthfully, I’d just been kind of standing there, watching the wonder that was Lizbeth.

  As I swept across the salon, I overhead Violet say to Giancarlo, “What about the new girl? She’s amazing.”

  “I know,” Giancarlo said. “A natural. Kid’s got a future.”

  Traitors! I thought. What about this natural’s future?

  The fawning over Lizbeth died down a bit as people crowded into the salon for Violet’s styling session. Back when I sat for Devon for the first-ever Be Gorgeous, she’d showed me—and the crowd, which included a local newspaper photographer—how to gently style my otherwise unruly hair. The tips she’d given me—how to hold the blow-dryer as if it were an iron and always use products sparingly—had totally turned my once don’t into a total do. A do ’do!

  Chairs were set up in the center of the salon, and Lizbeth helped pass out postcards with a coupon on the back for ten percent off a cut while I swept the other stylists’ stations. They had clients during the demo but kept the noise down—even Giancarlo managed to avoid breaking into spontaneous song.

  Violet’s model was Cheryl, a regular who had tight curls in her long hair. After Lizbeth had passed out postcards to everyone, Megan allowed her to sit and watch the demo. I watched from the side while waiting for Giancarlo or Piper to finish so I could swoop in and sweep their stations.

  “Some people’s tendency is to put a lot of product on tight curls like this to keep them from frizzing,” Violet said. “But you don’t want to end up with crunchy curls, so go easy.”

  Like Devon had done with me, Violet showed how to style Cheryl’s hair for a simple daytime look and how to keep it healthy and tamed. Then she finished it off by doing an upsweep for nighttime.

  It already felt like a long day. My feet were starting to hurt and just standing around was killing me.

  “Since she’s the salon owner’s daughter, I know she has great taste. What do you think, Mickey?”

  “Huh . . . ?”

  Violet looked at me, and the rest of the crowd turned in their seats to stare. At me.

  “Do you think her hair type would benefit from an olive oil treatment?”

  Violet waited. The guests stared at me, waiting. Suddenly, replaying in my mind on a loop was Wednesday, when I was asked my opinion on a hair color and an accessory. I’d botched both, which had sucked the confidence right out of me. And now, all these people were watching and waiting for my genius response.

  “I’m not sure, but I think it might help.”

  Don’t breathe a sigh of relief just yet. It wasn’t me who spoke up, but Lizbeth.

  “But I’m sure Mickey knows better than I do,” Lizbeth said, looking my way with wide, uncertain eyes. My entire face was paralyzed, and I just stared back at her.

  “Yes,” Violet said, turning to look at Lizbeth. “Everyone, this is Lizbeth Ballinger, a new team member who is doing her Career Exploration project with us. And how lucky are we?” Everyone smiled and some clapped with approval while Lizbeth blushed.

  After the demo was over and everyone cleared out, Lizbeth came over and said, “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to get all in your business, but you looked a little stuck.”

  “Yeah, no,” I said. “It’s fine. I totally spaced.”

  Mom came up to us and said, “Great job today, Lizbeth, really. You should be very proud—you survived your first day, and it was an especially busy Be Gorgeous day at that!”

  “Thanks,” Lizbeth said.

  “Well, you’ve both had a long day,” Mom said, looking at me as well. “You can head on home if you’re ready. Lizbeth said you girls have to write a report about the first part of your work experience?”

  Lizbeth nodded. “I’ve already started making notes.”

  “Wow, very proactive,” Mom said. “How about you, Mick?”

  I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. “Mom. I grew up here. I’ve already been working here for over a month. How hard can it be?”

  Mom gave a look that said she wasn’t so sure it’d be that easy, but I chose to ignore her.

  “Well, thanks, Chloe,” Lizbeth said. “I guess I’ll go see if my mom’s here yet to pick me up. Thanks again for letting me work here. I can’t wait for next Saturday!”

  “Well, we can’t wait to have you back next week, either, Lizbeth,” Mom said.

  We got our stuff, and I walked outside with Lizbeth to wait with her for her mom to come. I felt embarrassed about a first-timer having to bail me out during the demo, but I couldn’t let it get to me. It’d been a fluke, anyway.

  “Okay, tell me honestly,” I said. “What’d you think of the job?”

  “I like it,” she said. “Once it got busy and I didn’t have time to be nervous, it was fun. I’m really glad I’m getting to work here.”

  “Me too,” I said.

  Her mom pulled up, and Lizbeth picked up her bag to leave. First she turned to me and said, “You’re not mad at me for talking during Violet’s demo, are you? I didn’t mean to be a kno—”

  “No,” I said, hoping I sounded genuine. I mean, because I was being genuine. “It was fine. I don’t know what happened. Just sort of froze up. I needed someone to reboot me.”

  She smiled. “Okay. I felt bad but if you’re sure—”

  “I’m positive,” I said. “Thanks for helping me out.”

  “Thanks for helping me out,” she said. “I’d never have survived without you.”


  I knew she was just being nice, especially on that last part, but I appreciated it, anyway. I was still sure we’d have fun at the salon, just maybe on a less busy Saturday.

  When I got home that night I tried organizing my vanity. I couldn’t shake the icky, pathetic feeling I had in the pit of my stomach. The clean-up wasn’t helping, though. Another fail. I was racking them up left and right.

  I walked across the backyard to Jonah’s to see if he was around. Demolishing him in Warpath of Doom always made me feel better, but his mom said he wasn’t home.

  “He’s at his new job,” she said. “And you might want to steer clear when he gets home. He was not happy about going.”

  I went back upstairs to my room to call Eve and see how her job was going—and maybe vent a bit about mine as well. She said it went well and that she walked out of the day care without a single booger smeared on her jeans by a kid. Then she asked me what working with Lizbeth was like.

  “I don’t know,” I answered, sinking into my bed. “I mean, good. It was good.”

  “You don’t know or it was good?”

  “It’s just weird working with a friend, I guess. Lizbeth is great. And everybody is, like, so in love with her. It makes me feel like I’m the worst employee Mom ever hired since I make a million mistakes a day,” I said.

  “Okay, hold it right there,” Eve said. “Because now you’re talking crazy. You are not a bad employee—you were born to work at a salon. And not just because you practically have pomade running through your veins.”

  “Um, ew,” I said, and Eve laughed.

  “I’m just saying,” she said. “You were probably just having an off day or something.”

  “Try an off week.”

  “Fine,” she said. “But get over it quick. You’re great at styling and we all know it. Okay?”

  Maybe Eve was right—I was overreacting and maybe even feeling sorry for myself. So I had stumbled and a couple of my suggestions had fallen flat. It happens, no big deal.

  I still had to get up the next day and style again.

  CHAPTER 9

  Things were back to normal on Sunday—I was the only teenager working at the salon. Within minutes of putting on my smock and picking up my broom, I felt like my old self again. No weird vibes, no feeling anxious, just happy and relaxed to be in my second home.

  Mom was at her station in the very front—it was the closest station to the waiting lounge, reception, and the door. Being the owner and all, she liked to keep a close eye on things, especially at the front of the salon. She was working on a woman who was getting her blond hair highlighted so it was a bit brighter than normal. Her name was Renee and she’d been coming to Hello, Gorgeous! for years. Mom mixed the color in the plastic container, which was a weird milkyhoney color. I knew that when it was applied to her hair it would be a sunshiny gold or something.

  “Not much is going on, Mickey,” Mom said. “Want to take a break?”

  “Okay,” I said. “Can I watch?”

  When I was a kid hanging out at the salon, I used to love watching Mom style. Now that I was an employee I had less time since I was, you know, doing my job. But I loved the easy way Mom worked a head of hair. She made it seem so effortless.

  “Sure, sweetie,” Mom said, and then surprised me by saying, “Pull up a chair.” I gladly pulled an extra chair from the lounge and watched as Mom carefully but easily put a panel of foil under a small, fine section of hair to protect the scalp. Then she brushed the color on the section of hair on top of the foil. Finally, she folded the foil up into a tight little rectangle.

  “So, Mickey, are you going to be a stylist someday?” Renee asked as Mom sectioned off another area and brushed on the color.

  I nodded. “Definitely.”

  “She’s on her way,” Mom said, and I grinned from ear to ear.

  Just as Mom was finishing up, the door chimed and there was Eve. I wondered what she was doing here.

  “Hi,” I said, getting up from my chair. “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No, I was just in the neighborhood. I hope it’s okay—I won’t stay long.”

  “It’s fine,” I said. “I haven’t officially taken my break yet, so I can hang out. What are you up to?”

  “I’m on my way to meet my mom at the diner.”

  “Let me see if Mom will let me walk down with you,” I said.

  Mom was definitely in a good mood, so I gave it a shot. “I expect you back in ten minutes,” she said.

  Out on the sidewalk, we started down Camden Way.

  “So how was work yesterday?” I asked, feeling very mature and like an adult.

  “It was fun,” Eve said. “The kids are so cute. This class assignment is going so fast. I’ve worked two days and it’s already time to start writing the report. Have you started?”

  “Not yet,” I said. “But it’s not due until Friday.”

  “It’s five pages,” Eve said. “That’s a lot, especially since most of us have only worked a day or two. Have you ever written a report that long?”

  “No, but come on. Me, writing a report about Hello, Gorgeous!? It’ll be like writing in my diary. Cake.”

  “If you say so,” she said. “Oh, I have an idea! Since they’re due on Friday, do you want to celebrate by going to the mall Friday night? Especially since I had to bail on you last weekend.”

  Up ahead, I could see the firehouse on the left and Loretta’s Treasures on the right. I wondered if Kyle and Jonah were at their jobs today.

  “Yeah, that sounds great,” I said. “Should we invite Lizbeth and Kristen?”

  Truthfully, I still didn’t know all the rules of girl friends. Would it be rude not to invite the other girls to come with us? It didn’t make sense that we’d have to do everything together, all the time, but I also didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.

  “Let’s just have it be the two of us, if that’s okay. Maybe afterward you can sleep over and then my mom can drop you off at work.”

  “Sure,” I said as if I’d been thinking this all along.

  Just then we came up on the firehouse. “Should we see if Kyle’s working?” I figured if Eve could drop in on me then we could drop in on him, right? I mean, we did all sit together at lunch.

  But Eve looked across the street and said, “Or we could go see Jonah. I think he’s working.”

  “Is he?” I asked.

  “Well,” she said, “he texted me earlier saying he had to work.”

  “Eve!” I said, giving her shoulder a little shove. “You guys have moved to texting? When did that happen?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, but judging by her grin she knew exactly when. “Sometime this week, I guess. But it was just something about Warpath of Doom originally.”

  “You so want to go see him, don’t you?” I asked.

  “You so want to go see Kyle, don’t you?”

  “No,” I said, but I couldn’t hide the blush from flooding my face. I immediately started smiling.

  “Mickey!” Eve said. “Do you like Kyle?”

  Full on, third-degree blush on my cheeks. They were on fire. “No. I mean, I don’t know,” I said. I had been noticing new things about him—like his smile and his crooked front teeth. “He’s kind of cute. Don’t you think?”

  “In that adorable kind of way,” she said. “So—do you want to stop in and see him?”

  “No way!” I said. “I just might think he’s cute, that’s all. Why—do you want to stop in and see Jonah?”

  She shook her head no. “Let’s forget about seeing the guys. I think we’re both too chicken,” she said, and I agreed. “I should go meet my mom and you should get back before you get in trouble.”

  “Fine,” I said. I stopped and she kept on toward the diner, where I could see her mom waiting out front. “See you tomorrow!”

  I started back toward the salon. I couldn’t help but peek into the firehouse as I walked past, just to see if I could spot Kyle. A mustached firefighter c
aught me looking and I took off running. But I smiled the whole way back to the salon.

  CHAPTER 10

  “How’s that report coming along?” Mom asked a couple of nights later at dinner. “Lizbeth said she’s got half of hers done.”

  “She talked to you about her report?” Just how chatty had those two become?

  “She stopped by the salon after school today to ask me a few questions about running the salon and the general operation of it.”

  “Well my report is going to be just fine,” I said, which was pretty much true. I know everything there is to know about the salon. Practically.

  “Just remember,” Mom said, spearing an asparagus, “you have to keep your grades up if you want to stay at the salon. I expect you to get a top grade on this, Mickey,” she said, looking at me closely. “So don’t take this report lightly.”

  “Mom, I’m not,” I said. Maybe I hadn’t started it yet, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be great. So great, in fact, that it would be better than Lizbeth’s. Not that I was competing or anything.

  That night, I thought about my report. I sat in front of the computer in Mom’s home office and tried to think of how it should begin. With the first time I was carried into Hello, Gorgeous! in my mom’s arms as a baby? Or on my thirteenth birthday when I started working? I also wasn’t sure if it was fair to talk about all the work I’d done before Career Ex started. But maybe that’s what would make my paper better?

  I turned off the computer and decided to think it over.

  In between dinner, homework, cleaning my room, and working very hard to create the perfect wild-but-styled look on my own hair, I wondered what Lizbeth’s paper would be like. What exactly had she and Mom talked about, and for how long? I got this image of them sipping tea together at CJ’s while Mom advised Lizbeth on how to be the best business owner in New England.

  And then suddenly, it was Thursday. The night before the report was due. I’d done exactly zero work on it—I hadn’t even decided how it would begin. I needed to focus, and I needed to make sure my report was better than Lizbeth’s. I’m not competitive or anything, but the salon’s, like, in my blood, so mine should be better. Plus, I grew up there, whereas Lizbeth had been there for maybe two days. No way could she get a better grade than me.