Foiled

by Taylor Morris

  I sat in Mom’s home office that night and pounded it out as best I could. We had to write about what we were doing and what we had learned so far. All I could come up with was stuff like don’t blind the customer and don’t give lame advice on color. But I was pretty sure Ms. Carter wouldn’t accept that as an insightful answer.

  As much as I loved the salon and my job, I found it hard to get five whole pages out of it, so I bumped the font up one point and pinched the margins in slightly. The change was so subtle Ms. Carter would never notice.

  The next day’s boring assembly featured an edge-of-your-seat speech by some guy who worked in . . . finance!

  When we woke up at the end of assembly we all filed out and headed into the cafeteria for lunch. Eve and I walked together, with Lizbeth and Kristen slightly ahead of us.

  “My mom said she’d drive us to the mall tonight,” Eve said. “Pick you up at six?”

  I looked nervously to Kristen and Lizbeth, hoping they didn’t hear. I was pretty sure they hadn’t. “Yeah, sounds good.”

  “Save me a seat in the caf,” she said. “I left my lunch in my locker.”

  In the cafeteria I dropped my bag on the seat next to me for Eve. I tried not to look at Kyle, who I just happened to notice looked kind of cute in a gray T-shirt. I don’t know what it was about that shirt that looked so good on him, but it totally did. When he caught me looking, my eyes automatically darted down to my PB&J. Instant mortification set in. He probably thought I was zombied out, sitting there staring at him like some mental patient. What next? Drooling? Real classy.

  “That assembly was almost as brutal as my job,” Kristen said. “This week I had to go with my aunt to interview a guy about soil. A live radio interview about soil, people. So glad it’s Friday. We should all do something this weekend.”

  “I got plans with my boys,” Jonah said, punching Kyle in the shoulder.

  “Yes,” Kyle said, and they bumped fists. “Total rampage.”

  “You guys are nice and all,” Kristen said, “but I wasn’t inviting you. Girls only.”

  Kyle looked to Jonah and said, “Then maybe we should come.”

  Was it just me or was Kyle less quiet than he used to be? I wondered briefly if he was speaking up more to get my attention, then thought that was kind of egotistical of me. Still, I had to admit that it was cute when he spoke up. He was actually pretty funny.

  “We should have a makeover competition,” Kristen said, ignoring Kyle’s comment. “Everyone can come over to my house tonight and we can see who can style their hair the best—like, the most outrageous—and Mickey can be the judge.”

  “Oooh, I’m in,” Lizbeth said.

  “I’m in,” Jonah joked. I rolled my eyes at him.

  “You in, Mickey?” Kristen asked. “It’ll be fun!”

  A gentle wave of panic had been rising over me since talk of weekend plans started. Eve had said she wanted our night at the mall to be just us, so I took that to mean I shouldn’t tell Lizbeth and Kristen. Otherwise they’d be mad we didn’t invite them, and that was the last thing I wanted.

  “I, uh,” I said, trying to think of some way to respond. “I promised my mom I’d help Violet with product inventory.”

  “Lame,” Kristen said.

  “I could come in and help if you want,” Lizbeth said. She looked so eager with her wide eyes. “I know it’s not my regular day, but it might help my final report if I can see how the other business stuff is done. Do you think your mom would mind?”

  “You’re seriously asking if you can work on a Friday night?” Kristen said. “You must be sick in the head. Or really love that job.”

  Lizbeth smiled. “I do love it.”

  “Um, that’s okay,” I said. “Mom is barely letting me do it because it’s such an important job.” Wow. I sure could make counting bottles of polish sound like counting money from the register.

  “Oh,” Lizbeth said. I could actually see her shoulders slump she was so bummed.

  “Too bad. I guess you’ll just have to do that thing you’ve been doing every weekend since we were six—you know, hang out with your best friend?” Kristen teased, tugging on Lizbeth’s arm.

  Eve sat down then and opened up her sack lunch.

  “How about you, Eve?” Kristen said. “You down for hanging out with me and Lizbeth tonight?”

  “Can’t,” she said. “I have plans. But maybe next weekend.” No lies, no further explanation. She made it seem so easy. Maybe it was.

  Kristen then launched into a story about Harry, one of the radio personalities, and how he keeps calling her “doll face.” Jonah and Kyle had shifted away from us and were talking about the Red Sox’s upcoming game. I ate my PB&J, feeling the peanut butter stick to the back of my throat.

  I just hoped Lizbeth and Kristen didn’t find out we went to the mall without them.

  CHAPTER 11

  When I jumped in Eve’s mom’s car that evening, I had almost forgotten about not inviting Kristen and Lizbeth to go out with us and how guilty it made me feel. I was mostly excited about going shopping—even if I barely had any money to spend.

  “Hi, Mickey,” Mrs. Benton said, pulling into the street. “How are you?”

  “Good, thanks,” I said, buckling myself in in the backseat.

  “Cute outfit,” Eve said, turning from the front. “You always look good.”

  “Really?” I said. I did think my outfit was perfect mall attire—a plaid sleeveless shirt over a white tank with a black miniskirt. “Thanks.”

  “I look blah as always. Especially my hair.”

  “Please. That necklace is so cute,” I said of the long, thin gold chain with a funny, little octopus charm. “I can fix your hair when we get there, if you want.”

  “I totally want,” Eve said.

  When we got to the mall, Eve’s mom said we should text her when we were about ready for her to come get us. As Eve and I walked through the entrance, I dug my emergency bottle of pomade out of my bag and rubbed some on my fingers. “Here,” I said, and she faced me as I used the product to tuck her hair behind her ears with a slick shine. “There,” I said, handing her a mirror. “Subtle but simple.”

  “Genius,” she said. “You are totally genius.”

  I smiled, putting the mirror and pomade away. “So how do you want to do this? Want to just start at one end and go to the other?” Eve looked at me like I’d suggested we check out the latest trends at Baby Gap. “What?” I said. “No good?”

  She pulled her white slouchy backpack up higher on her bony shoulders—accentuated by the white spaghetti-strapped tank she wore—and said, “You may be good at styling, but I have a better system when it comes to the mall.”

  “Okay,” I said. “As long as we hit everything.”

  “Including the food court, at least once.”

  I liked her thinking.

  “The most important part of this,” she said, as serious as if we were about to set out on an uncharted exploration, “is where we start.”

  “Well, I know one thing for sure,” I said, pointing to Vitamin World across the way. “I’m in desperate need of some fish oil.”

  Eve looked at the store and said with equal seriousness, “For that occasional irregularity, right?”

  “Ew!” I said, and we both laughed.

  Her cell phone twittered, and she took it out of her purse. As she read the text on the screen, a smile spread across her face.

  “Something good?” I asked, curious.

  She texted something back and quickly put it away. “It’s nothing,” she said, but I could tell she was trying to hide a smile.

  Inside Vitamin World, we strolled down rows filled with bottles of vitamins with strange names and made jokes about them.

  “Let’s get some ginkgo biloba,” I said, looking at the bottle. “It says it’s good for brain power, and we have that English test coming up.”

  “I’m thinking of buying this glutathione,” Eve said. “You know, for my
oxidative stress.”

  We browsed past calcium magnesium zinc tablets and other strange things. “Do you miss your old school?”

  She paused before saying, “Yeah. I guess. I still talk to my friend Marla on IM a lot. She’s going to visit me this summer. And it’s not like Ridgeley is that far away,” she said. Ridgeley was where she used to live.

  “That’s cool,” I said of her friend’s visit. “It must have been hard moving away, though.”

  Eve ran her slim hand over plastic bottles that promised stronger health and a longer life. “I was mad at first, but now that we’re here I can see how much Nana loves having us around. And I like being around her.” She shrugged and said, “Plus, I don’t want to be the whiny kid who complains about moving and having to make new friends.”

  “I would probably be that kid, and I don’t even have many friends,” I said. “I know you have your friends back home, but if you ever want to talk about stuff . . . I don’t think I could offer good advice, but I’m really good at nodding my head and making concerned and understanding faces. See?”

  She laughed as I demonstrated. “Thanks, Mickey. I might just take you up on that.”

  We rounded the end of the final aisle of Vitamin World and made our way back out into the mall.

  “Last chance to get some shark cartilage to support your creaky joints,” I said. “It’s on sale!”

  “Shoot, I just stocked up last week.”

  We left laughing, and I knew that right there in Vitamin World we had become true friends.

  Next we went to Monique’s Accessories, where we put on sunglasses that were too big for our faces and dug through piles of scarves, wrapping them around our heads and necks like we were cruising around in a convertible in the 1950s. Then we headed to the food court for a non-dinner dinner.

  “We eat, but no real dinner foods,” I explained. “This is my contribution to our mall experience.”

  “So I can’t order Chinese food?”

  “You can. Just so long as you only order egg rolls and fortune cookies.”

  “I love this kind of dinner,” Eve said.

  I got garlic knots and Eve got spicy curly fries. We sat at a table in the center, dug into our food, and started talking.

  “Oh my god, look at him,” Eve said, nodding to a guy about our age sitting with a bunch of boys and scarfing down a chili cheese dog like he was part of the Fourth of July hot dog eating contest. “Cute, right?”

  “Mmm, I love a man with chili stains on his chin,” I joked. “Yeah, he’s okay. He kind of looks like Kyle.” I immediately felt mortified—why had I brought up Kyle?

  “Yeah, but Kyle’s cuter,” she said with a huge grin on her face. “I mean, if you like that type. So. Do you like Kyle or something?”

  It was embarrassing to talk about, even with Eve. “Maybe. I’m not sure. I’ve known him ever since he started school with us in fourth grade. He’s just always been Jonah’s quiet friend. I never really knew what to make of him, but lately he’s been a bit more talkative. I like it. But that doesn’t mean I want to, like, be his girlfriend or anything.” I took a bite of another garlic knot.

  “Not yet, anyway,” Eve joked. She grew quiet, then said, “Ya know before, when I got that text?” I nodded. “It was Jonah.”

  “What’d he want?” I asked, then immediately knew the answer. Like, duh.

  “Nothing,” she said. “We’ve texted a few times and messaged online. Nothing big.”

  I smiled. “Sure.”

  Eve popped another fry into her mouth. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask. What’s really happening at the salon with Lizbeth?”

  I wanted to tell her that I’d been feeling a little strange with Lizbeth there, doing everything so perfectly and never getting anything wrong, but I didn’t know what to tell her. I didn’t want to sound like a mean girl.

  “Well, I just feel like . . .”

  Before I could say another word, a long, slim form stood next to our table, peering down at us. She wore pristine white jeans and a black blazer with the sleeves cuffed, showing a silk, gray paisley lining. Long, layered silver necklaces hung around her neck, and her chestnut hair was pulled back in a slick ponytail that seemed to tug back the corners of her eyes. My first thought was that she’d fit right in at the salon.

  “Hi, girls,” the lady said. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

  When neither of us said anything at first, she continued to look down at us—at Eve, really, almost like she were inspecting her. Finally I said, “Um, hello?”

  She glanced in my general direction, but only for a moment. Then she turned her gaze back to Eve.

  “Are you a model?” she asked.

  Eve—with her ghostly pale skin—was the one blushing now. “No,” she said.

  I snorted. I didn’t mean to, but that totally sounded like a line. Eve shot me a look, and I hoped she didn’t think I was being mean. But seriously, it was a little bit creepy. I decided to be bold. “May we help you?” I asked her.

  The lady glanced at me again before turning back to Eve. From nowhere she brandished a thick, white business card, which Eve took from her. “I’m Bunny Jenkins. I’ve been looking for models all evening.” She snapped her fingers and pointed at Eve. “You’re perfect. We’re casting for a commercial for the new live-action Warpath of Doom game. Heard of it?” Eve just stared at her, clearly too stunned to speak. “It’s a companion to the new alien version of the video game. We’re filming a commercial for it next weekend, and your look is perfect for the aliens, just perfect with that milky, white skin. If only . . . ,” she began.

  Eve sat mute, so I said, “What?”

  “I was thinking,” Bunny said, “that she might look even more stunning if we gave her hair a little kick. Brighten it up a bit, give it some golden highlights to complement the natural paleness. But no.” She waved her hand, dismissing the idea. “No time between now and the shoot, just in case it doesn’t look right. Maybe just a conditioning treatment. Do you take ballet?”

  “I used to do gymnastics,” Eve said. She seemed too skinny to catapult herself over a vault, but I guess you would never really know. Looking at my hair, you’d never think I was a hair-styling maven in the making.

  “That figures,” Bunny said. “Long, lean bodies—very alienlike, if you think about it.” She turned to consider me, and I found myself sitting up a bit straighter, readying myself for her inspection. “Too dark and wrong texture of hair. Pretty, but not the right look. Sorry—we’re going for naturally pin straight.” I felt my back slump back to its natural posture. Just when I’d finally learned to manage my slightly curly hair, it worked me right out of a commercial. Figures. To Eve she said, “What’s your name, darling?”

  “Eve Benton.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Eve. I’d love to screen test you if you’ll come down to our offices—with your parent or guardian, of course. Google me and my company and you’ll see. Okay? Okay,” she said, answering her own question. She pointed to her business card, still in Eve’s hand. Then she turned on a spiked heel and walked out of the food court.

  “Wow,” said Eve.

  “Seriously,” I said. “Are you going to call her?”

  “I’m not sure. Should I?”

  “Only if you want to be a huge celebrity making millions before your sixteenth,” I said.

  “I’m not sure,” Eve said. “I mean about even wanting to be in a commercial.”

  “Eve, come on! I bet it’ll be so much fun!” I said. “You should do it. Have your mom call Bunny.”

  Eve looked in the direction Bunny had gone. “She kind of scares me.”

  “Yeah,” I said, also looking in the direction she had gone. I wondered how anyone named Bunny could possibly be intimidating. I thought of her name, and a smile spread across my face. Eve looked at me, and all I had to do was say, “Bunny?” and we started laughing until our stomachs hurt and it was time to head back to Eve’s house.

  CHAPTER
12

  The next day, I was back at the salon, sweeping between Giancarlo’s station on the left and Piper’s across the aisle on the right. Up front, Lizbeth and Megan stood side by side at reception. Lizbeth wore a red and white striped shirt with a gray skirt, and Megan wore a gray belted shirtdress with black heels. They looked like they’d purposely matched. I wouldn’t have been surprised if they had.

  I tugged on the ends of my smock, wishing I could look cute, too. At least my hair was looking pretty good, if I did say so. I’d used a new cashmere lather hair product (which is like a soft pomade) to enhance my waves and pulled my long hair into a low side ponytail.

  “Mickey,” Piper said, breaking into my thoughts. “Could you grab me some extra clips from the back?”

  “Sure,” I said, and quickly finished up the pile I’d started sweeping.

  Today was Piper’s turn to do Be Gorgeous. Even though she looked beautiful and amazing in an autumn-orange top that made her strawberry hair pop, she said she was really nervous. “The last time I spoke in front of a crowd was in junior high when I had to give an oral report on the Florida Wetlands. I literally threw up in the bathroom before class.”

  “Oh, honey, calm down,” Giancarlo said. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “I could start babbling nonsense, Chloe would think I’m crazy, and you’d have to drag me out like a crazed maniac?” Piper said.

  Giancarlo rolled his eyes. “Picture yourself being fabulous, and fabulosity will follow.”

  “You make it sound so easy,” Piper said.

  “It is!”

  Devon was nearby listening and said, “Micks. Tell her how you got over being nervous sitting in front of the demo crowd.”

  I wanted to say, Under the threat of being fired, but resisted. “I trusted Devon,” I said. Maybe that wasn’t 100 percent true—I had been afraid she’d take her revenge on my hair. But later I realized that she took hair way too seriously to give a bad cut, even if she had been upset with me at the time.