Truly, I couldn’t believe it. My own mother was playing favorites to a friend of mine—the real salon wizard in the making.
“I can do it on my own,” I said. “I don’t need any help.”
“Are you sure about that?” Mom asked.
I almost snapped back that I was 100 percent sure, thanks so very much, but just then the door chimed and Eve walked in.
“Hi, Eve!” Lizbeth said. Cheered is more like it. I guess she’d forgiven Eve for going to the mall without her.
“Hi, Eve!” I echoed, like I was letting Lizbeth know that Eve was my friend, too. She was my friend first if we had to get technical about it.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Mom said to Lizbeth. “But let’s talk more about tomorrow, okay?”
“Thanks, Chloe,” Lizbeth said.
“Thank you. I’ve really appreciated your easy manner here on these three Saturdays when it was so chaotic.” Then, I swear, she looked at me, like I was the one who caused all the chaos.
That was it.
As Mom walked back to her office, a new level of frustration rose inside me. I had to show her. I had to prove to her that I was as worthy a member of the salon team as Lizbeth was. And not just as the sweeper and occasional gofer, fetching pins and clips and sterilized combs for the stylists. I was good at a lot of things, and someday I’d be the best stylist at the salon. Maybe even better than my own mother. I just had to prove myself.
Lizbeth was good at taking down names and phone numbers and greeting people as they came in, but I’d never heard her say she wanted this, like for a real job. I’d never seen her drool over new hair accessories the way I did on a regular basis. She never talked about the fishtail braid as if it were the most revolutionary thing since the invention of the flat iron. I’m not saying she didn’t want it; I’m just saying she didn’t show it. And if you loved something as much as I loved this world of beauty, how could you not show it?
“I hope you don’t mind waiting a bit,” Lizbeth said to Eve. “Giancarlo is a little backed up from his demo. It was a raging success, but what’d you expect?” Lizbeth smiled, but I noticed Eve looked a bit panicked.
“Everything okay?” I asked her.
“I’m kind of in a rush,” she said.
Lizbeth looked at the schedule and said, “You’re just in for a deep conditioning, right?”
“Yes,” Eve said, “but I have a fitting with the wardrobe people in an hour and I can’t be late. Bunny said there would be consequences if anyone was.” She looked extremely petrified at this possibility. “How far behind is he?”
Lizbeth looked at the schedule, then looked back at Giancarlo laughing it up with a group of ladies. He didn’t look like he was in any sort of rush.
“Once he gets you all washed and applies the conditioner, you’re supposed to sit under the dryer for at least half an hour,” Lizbeth told her. When Eve started cracking her fingers, I could tell she was nervous. That Bunny must have been some piece of work.
“Wait here,” I told Eve. “Let me go see what I can do.”
Eve turned her frightened eyes on me and said, “Thanks, Mickey. You’re a lifesaver.”
As I walked away I heard Lizbeth say to her, “Don’t worry, Eve. We’ll take care of it.”
We? Try me.
I broke into Giancarlo’s conversation as delicately as I could. “Um, excuse me. Giancarlo? Your next client is here. You about ready for her?”
But I should have known better. When Giancarlo is the center of attention, there’s no pulling him away.
“Have you ladies met the amazing Mickey?” he asked, completely ignoring my question. “She is a styling queen!” For once I didn’t want the attention, since I was feeling a little ragged. “This girl has such amazing style that she’ll have her own beauty empire before she gets to high school.”
Oh, that flatterer, Giancarlo—I was pretty sure he didn’t mean half of what he said. Besides, even though I liked hearing I was brilliant, I had to keep him on task. “Giancarlo, your three o’clock is here. My friend Eve? When do you think you’ll be able to see her? She’s kind of in a rush.”
“Okay, okay, I hear you,” he said.
“Should I see if one of the other stylists can take her? Since she’s not getting it cut or anything, just a deep conditioning?” I asked, thinking what a good problem solver I was.
He suddenly stopped and put his hand up on his expansive hip. “Give away my client? I don’t think so.”
“It’s just that she’s in a hurry,” I said.
“Oh, everyone’s in a hurry.” He looked back at the woman in his chair and continued giving style tips. When they started talking about different highlights for spring and fall, I groaned.
I knew there was no way Eve could wait for him—or more to the point, Bunny couldn’t wait for Eve. Now was my chance to remind everyone that I was capable of amazing things.
If there was one thing I’d learned from reading about legendary stylists, it was that if you wanted to be great, you had to take major risks. I was ready to plunge headfirst into greatness.
I walked back up to the front where Eve and Lizbeth were talking.
“I didn’t see it,” Lizbeth was saying. “But maybe Kristen found it after we left.”
“I’m pretty sure I lost it on the couch last night when we were watching the movie,” Eve said. “It probably fell into the cushions.”
“When I see Kristen later today, I’ll tell her to look there.”
“Thanks,” Eve said. “Mickey! What’d he say?” she asked, just seeing me.
I leaned on the counter and tried not to wonder what they’d been talking about. But what had they been talking about? Had they all been hanging out without me?
“Giancarlo is just a bit behind schedule,” I said.
“Oh, great,” Eve said, her shoulders sinking.
“But I have an idea,” I said. I had to focus on my idea, which wasn’t just good. It was foolproof. “I can help you if you want me to. I can give you the conditioning treatment. It’s easy, and I’ve seen the stylists do it a thousand times. Really, there’s nothing to it.”
Eve looked at me at bit skeptically. She checked the clock on the wall and said, “I don’t know . . .”
Lizbeth looked like she was working out a way to be the hero herself. But I needed Mom and everyone else to know that I was still a styling wonder. “I promise, the treatment is a piece of cake. It’ll be fine.”
“Well I don’t want to be late for my fitting. Bunny might go into a psychotic rage or something.” She took a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
“Great! Just follow me to the back,” I said.
Lizbeth had a look on her face that said more than I wanted to hear as we walked away. Maybe she was still mad at me about the mall thing. Maybe she was still so mad she’d tell my mom on me. If Mom found out what I was about to do, she’d never see what a legit stylist I was. I had to make sure Lizbeth didn’t blow it for me.
“Just go back by the changing room,” I told Eve. “I’ll be there in two secs.” I went back to reception and said to Lizbeth, “Hey!” As if we hadn’t just seen each other three-point-two seconds ago. “So, like, if anyone comes looking for me or Eve, it’s okay. I mean, we’ll be right back. No biggie.” Why couldn’t I think of something on the fly?
“What are you talking about?” Lizbeth asked, her brow all crinkled.
“Oh! Ha!” I almost slapped my forehead, then realized it’d look bogus and stopped my hand midair as if I were about to bless her. “What I mean is, Eve and I are going to the back to . . . look at the . . . um. The mineral deposits!” Lizbeth stared at me like I’d just told her I was quitting school to be a full-time plumber. “Don’t you have that in science class? That section on mineral deposits?”
She slowly shook her head. “No.”
“Well we do and it’s, like, really important to our teacher that we learn about them. Supposedly they can be found in rusty sinks and s
tuff.” (Quick aside: I had zero idea what I was talking about.) “Anyway,” I said as if this were all irrelevant. “Just, if anyone is looking for us, tell them we’re busy. But don’t tell them where we are. Mom will get mad if she knows I’m doing schoolwork at the salon.”
That was a real whopper, since Mom would never do or say anything to discourage me from doing school stuff. But I guess I’d thrown Lizbeth far enough off course because she said “whatever” and went back to answering phones. Only then was I able to head back to Eve and finally make a name for myself.
CHAPTER 16
“Um, where are we going?” Eve asked when I opened the door that led to the basement.
“Right down here.” I pulled the door shut behind me. The light above the stairs was a single bulb on a string, shining dimly down the metal staircase. Someone had left the light on below, although it wasn’t exactly the warm, sunshiny light that shone inside the salon. It seemed gray and unsteady, like an old black-and-white movie. Of a hospital room. During a war. Just after it was bombed.
It didn’t exactly inspire me, but if I could create beauty down here, I could create it anywhere.
“Come on,” I said. “Right this way.”
“Um, why are we going down here?” Eve asked, her footsteps slowly following me.
“It’ll give us more space,” I improvised. “And privacy. It’s so crazy upstairs, don’t you think? Much calmer down here.”
“More like abandoned. And eerie. And downright creepy. Mickey?”
“Yeah?”
“Seriously.”
Eve stopped on the bottom step. I looked around at the scene in the basement. It was your regular beauty shop graveyard. Old hard-hat hair dryers, plastic boxes full of busted curling and flat irons, cases full of dusty hair products that never sold. Lizbeth was right—someone really needed to clean the place up.
I checked the plug for one of the hard-hat dryers; after a moment of sputtering, it cranked to life.
“Ha! It works!” I said, looking at Eve. Her eyes scanned the floor, probably looking out for roaches and rats. I pulled an old chair out from against the wall—an orange plastic seat with a metal-bar back that I remembered from when I was a kid. Its familiarity calmed me. I patted the seat. “Step right up!”
Eve walked tentatively to the chair. “Are you sure you can see down here? It’s pretty dark. And there’s no mirror.”
“It’s fine! Don’t worry! Let’s just get you a robe.” I looked around the boxes, bursting apart with more dusty products and an old washer and dryer that hadn’t worked for years. I’d have to run upstairs to get her a robe. Then I had another idea. There was more on the line here than just showing Mom. I also had to figure out how to make a splash with my oral report. If I did some really unbelievably amazing thing here, and talked about it for the report . . . “Okay, Eve. Here’s what I’m thinking.” Blow them away, that’s what I was thinking. “You need something more than just a boring old conditioning treatment, right? Something to really help brighten your hair up, especially for such a big-deal occasion. So I’m thinking . . .”
Eve raised a brow at me. “Yeah?”
“I’m thinking just the tiniest bit of color will make all the difference. It’ll give you that wow, that pow you need to really stand out on the set tomorrow.”
“Color?” Eve asked. “I don’t know, Mickey. Bunny said she didn’t want to risk coloring my hair so close to filming.”
I felt like one of those screaming salespeople you see on Saturday afternoon TV—except for the screaming part. I would sell this to her, even if she thought she didn’t want it. “Don’t you really want to impress her? This’ll just enhance what you’ve got naturally. Plus, the dye has moisturizers in it, so it’ll be like getting a deep conditioning, anyway. It’s like a two in one!”
Eve looked at me, then down at the chair—kind of as if it were the electric kind, if you know what I mean. Finally she said, “I don’t know. Are you sure there’s even time?”
“Totally sure! I’ll just do some well-placed highlights. It won’t take any time at all. Let me just run upstairs and get some supplies,” I said, dashing up the staircase before she flat-out said no.
Like a supersleuth, I snagged a robe, then went into the supply room where we kept the hair dyes. Piper came in and I acted very interested in straightening the tubes of dye and the little plastic bowls in which the stylists mix the colors. When she left I grabbed two tubes, glancing at the color shades. I got a bowl and a brush, and on my way out I took a stack of foil squares used to section the hair and paint on the color. I was set.
In the basement I channeled the other stylists as I squeezed the two tubes into the bowl and stirred them with the brush. They always chatted up their clients to get them to relax. And to get the latest gossip!
“So,” I said as I stirred the dye in the bowl. “What’d you leave at Kristen’s?” Ugh, I could never be smooth about anything. You’d think I could have asked her how she was liking the weather or something first instead of slamming into the big question I was dying to know about.
“My bracelet,” she said. “I totally wish you’d been there. It felt weird without you.”
I couldn’t believe it. Was it possible that Kristen was still so mad about my mall trip with Eve that she non-vited me to her house? I thought that was so over.
I said to Eve, “This was last night?” I looked at the color the dye was turning from mixing the two. In the light it looked a little dark, but I couldn’t be sure. Mostly all I could see was my three friends having fun without me.
“Yeah,” Eve said. “When you were having your dinner or whatever with your parents.”
Oh, come on. “I wasn’t having dinner,” I said, really beating the dye now. “I wasn’t invited to Kristen’s house.” I was angry, but also sad. Why was Kristen getting back at me like this?
“Wait, seriously?” she asked, turning a bit to look at me. “Well, I mean . . . I’m sure it was a mix-up or something . . . ,” she said, but didn’t sound convinced. She looked up at me with big, watery eyes, like just the thought of Kristen purposely not inviting me could send her to tears. “Mickey, it’s . . .” She sniffed and rubbed her eyes. “Sorry, but that dye is pretty strong, isn’t it? It’s burning my eyes.” She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands.
I looked at the color in the bowl, which was now a milky white, nice and crisp. The smell didn’t bother me, but maybe I was used to it from working at the salon? Anyway, I had to refocus and concentrate on right now, not last night.
“It’s normal. And, uh, the smell will fade.” Totally made that up. “Can you hold these?” I asked, handing her the stack of foils.
“Sure,” she said, sniffing once more.
When she saw the bowl of dye she sucked in her breath.
“Oh, this?” I said, gesturing to it with the brush. “Don’t worry, the color looks different here than it will on your head. The chemicals work with, uh, your hair follicles, see? And the reaction makes it change colors. It’s actually really cool.” I gotta be honest—I was pretty proud of myself for sounding so official.
“So what color is my hair going to be?” Eve asked.
“It’s really going to shine, just like Bunny said.” Which I knew didn’t exactly answer the question, but I needed less convo and more concentration.
I started to feel tiny, little sweat bubbles springing on my upper lip. I wiped them away with the back of my hand, then snapped on the protective gloves I’d gotten from upstairs. They were a bit big, and I hoped they didn’t make working more difficult. I moved on, sectioning off the first bit of her hair.
“I’m either the world’s best friend,” Eve said, “or the world’s dumbest person to let you do this.”
“Foil,” I said, holding out my clear-gloved hand. Eve passed a shiny square to me. Working the pointed tip of the brush to get that one little section wasn’t as quick and easy-looking as the stylists make it look. “I can see it all perfect
ly in my mind. Gorgeous!” I laid the section of hair across the foil. “Um, could you hold this, too?” I asked, handing her the dye. I tugged up my gloves, which were slipping, then dipped my brush in the dye bowl. It didn’t look like enough, so I really scooped some color on it, then brushed it on Eve’s hair, making sure to get it really close to the scalp to cover the roots. Once I’d totally covered the section, I held the brush handle in my teeth, then folded the foil into a small, if uneven, square. I pressed it tightly to her head.
“It’s kind of tight,” Eve said, pushing her fingers on the foil.
“Um, it’s supposed to be,” I said, even though I wasn’t exactly sure.
I started on the next section, accidentally brushing the color on my forearm above the glove as I tried to cover the whole section of long hair. I told myself that it was all going to be worth it when Mom saw what an amazing job I’d done. She’d be stunned at my technique, and I could just hear Violet and Giancarlo praising me on my incredible skills. Lizbeth would beg me to dye her hair next. By this time next year, Mom might even give me my own chair with my own clients. I’d be styling all the girls in school, and hosting my own Be Gorgeous demo!
“Um, Mickey?” Eve said. “It’s kind of starting to burn.”
“Burn?”
“Yeah. Burn. On my scalp.”
My heart started to beat faster, and sweat continued to form on my lip. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. It’s burning really bad. And I should let you know that I didn’t cry when I broke my leg in second grade, so I can take pain. But this is bad.”
I’d only done maybe half her hair, one side and halfway around the back. And, actually, now that she’d mentioned the burning, my forearm, where I’d smeared a little of the coloring, was starting to tingle ever so slightly. I knew from being around the salon all these years that everyone reacted to color differently. I’d just never heard of dye making a client’s scalp burn.
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