But things began to get tangled up. One of the girls told the shy girl about the bet, causing her to burst into heartbroken tears. A friend of the boy vowed to help her make the boy jealous by dating the shy girl himself and flaunting their new relationship in front of his suntanned face. But secretly, this boy had always liked the shy girl. And though he didn’t care for all the colors on her face, or the fact that she looked so much like the other girls now, he was hoping that she’d come to see him as more than a friend.
I sat back in the velvety chair, chewing popcorn and sipping Coke, so close to Josh that our arms pressed against each other on the armrest we shared. It was amazing that I actually began to care what happened to the people on the screen. Too soon it was over, and everything was tidier than when it had begun, each character coupled with the person who was most like them. A lively song burst out as the characters faded into blackness, the lyrics of the song neatly fitting the story. Lights filled the theater, and everyone around me started getting up, the velvety seat cushions popping against the seat backs. Murmuring voices surrounded me, and I could feel Josh watching me.
“So?” he said. “What did you think?”
But there were no words to describe the way the sounds had enveloped me, and the story had twisted and turned until I felt like I was inside of it. Now they were all watching me, waiting to hear if I had liked my first movie. I smiled. “I’ve never had a better time.”
Outside, I blinked in the darkness. I realized that I had missed seeing the sun set and the day ebb away, but it was a small price to pay for such magic.
“Where to now?” asked Greg. I didn’t know that we would be doing anything else, and I waited to hear what would happen next.
“There’s a guitar player at the Bean Scene tonight. Is that okay with you, Eliza?” Josh asked.
I nodded happily. It turned out that the Bean Scene was close to Rachel’s house. I recognized the street where she had taken me to show me the library. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of coffee, and the room was filled with small wooden tables and an occasional overstuffed chair that looked like it belonged in someone’s living room. In a far corner, a man with a long brown ponytail strummed a guitar.
Valerie signaled to me with a toss of her head. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s treat.” She ordered drinks and brownies for all of us, and I gave her a bill, unsure of how much to contribute. She paid the cashier, handed me some change, and picked up the tray. I followed behind her. For the next few minutes we were all busy getting our coffees just right, with sugar and milk and great clinking stirs, before settling back in the wooden chairs.
The coffee was hot and bitter, but it spread an odd comfort through me, and I curved my fingers gratefully around the heavy mug. I was having a good time, but it was a nervous good time. I felt one minute away from doing or saying the wrong thing.
“So,” Valerie said, setting her mug on the table and studying me, “how do you like wearing regular clothes?”
I smiled, thinking that, to me, my Amish clothes were regular. I mentally scanned my new wardrobe, which had once seemed so vast, but was now inadequate. “I feel like I don’t have enough.”
“Welcome to my world,” Valerie said. Then she paused, her face brightening with an idea. “Do you want to go to the mall with me sometime? I’m always happy for an excuse to shop.”
I nodded. “I’d like that.” A warm feeling filled me. I wanted clothes like Valerie’s, and I wanted her to help me pick them out. “And maybe you can show me the fruit stand where Josh works.”
There was a second of silence, just enough time to make me feel uneasy. “Josh doesn’t work at a fruit stand,” she said.
I could feel Josh and Greg exchanging glances. I cleared my throat, knowing that I was about to make things worse. “I thought he worked at an apple store.”
Valerie erupted into snorty laughter. Heat spread across my cheeks.
Josh’s voice was gentle. “I work at a computer store,” he explained. “The name of the company is Apple.”
I took a breath, wondering if it was possible to die from awkwardness. Valerie’s laughter dissolved into breathy gulps.
“Come on, Val,” said Greg. “How would Eliza know?” I looked up at him gratefully. His brown eyes met mine for a moment, and I could see the kindness there.
Josh was shaking his head. “Sorry, Eliza.”
“That’s okay,” I said, eager to get the attention away from me. “I have to admit that I couldn’t picture you selling fruit.” Josh smiled at me, and I smiled back.
Then I heard a musical sound—not a song, exactly, but something like chimes with a tune.
Valerie reached into her pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “Hey,” she said, putting it to her ear. After a few seconds of silence she said, “We’re just hanging out.”
Greg and Josh were taking big bites from their brownies, not paying attention to Valerie or her conversation with an invisible party. “Not tonight, I have a curfew. ’Kay, see ya.”
Valerie snapped the phone shut and shoved it back into her pocket. “Carly wants to know if we’re partying later.” The word ‘party’ sounded ominous when it was used as a verb.
I took another sip of the cooling coffee. The guitar player continued to strum, his music filling the background of the chatter around us. I took the last bite of my brownie, feeling myself relax. I knew that while I was here I would always be on the edge of saying something silly, but I also knew that I could recover. Awkwardness wasn’t fatal, after all. Valerie was entertaining us with a lively story of why she had a curfew. Apparently she had sneaked out of the house last weekend, and when she crept back in at a small hour of the morning, her father was sitting in her room waiting for her. Valerie laughed in her snorting way as she told the story, and we all laughed with her, but I had a feeling that it hadn’t been very funny when it happened.
“Great,” Greg said. “They’ll never let me into your house again.” Then he added, “Of course, for the record, my parents think it was all Valerie’s fault.”
There was another burst of laughter, and then Valerie went silent, glancing at me in a cautious way. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” said Valerie. “You must think I’m pretty shady. A good girl like you.”
I thought I saw Josh roll his eyes at her, but I couldn’t be sure. “Not really,” I said, smiling. “I’m guessing you think I’m good because I’m Amish, but we get into trouble just like you do.” I paused and added, “We can be shady, too.”
Valerie leaned forward. “What kind of trouble?”
“We go to parties and stay out late. Sometimes we go around with people our parents don’t want us with.” I paused before adding, “There are kids with drug problems.”
There was a moment of quiet. “Really?” asked Valerie, urging me on.
“Really,” I said, suddenly feeling important. “I know one boy who spent a year in jail for dealing.” I always felt a little wistful when I thought about Thomas. He wasn’t a bad boy, really. He had just gotten caught up with a wild group.
Everyone was leaning forward now. Valerie’s voice burst out of her. “Shut up!”
I smiled and answered in a way I’d heard the children respond. “No, you shut up!”
“Actually,” Josh said, through a fresh burst of laughter, “I think we’d all better shut up if we’re going to get Valerie home before her curfew.”
We pulled up to Valerie’s house a few minutes later, and she opened her door. “Well, it was great meeting you, Eliza.” She started to get out of the car, then turned back. “What about tomorrow?” she asked.
“Tomorrow?”
“For shopping. I need some summer clothes. Do you want to go to the mall?”
“Is it open on Sunday?” I asked.
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Yes,” I said, my heart pounding in a peculiar way. “I’d love to go with you. Sunday is my day off.”
“Great! I’ll pick you up at noon.”
I watched as Valerie and Greg walked to the front door together, his arm draped over her shoulder. On the porch, Greg pulled Valerie into a tight embrace, their lips clamping together. I turned my head away and found Josh watching me.
“So, shopping with Valerie. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”
I smiled. “No, I don’t think I am.”
“Well, good luck,” he said with a grin. Then he paused before saying, “Hey, can we do this again?”
I thought for a minute. Daniel and I had agreed that we weren’t courting. He was free to be with other girls. Maybe he was even with Hannah right now.
“Yes, I’d like that.”
“So would I,” said Josh. He leaned toward me and placed his lips on mine for the briefest moment. It happened too fast. When Greg opened the door and Josh pulled back, I was disappointed that it had ended.
Preparing for my shopping day with Valerie made me almost as nervous as getting ready to go out with Josh. I looked carefully through my clothes, hoping she’d approve of what I wore. I put on the pink blouse with a pair of white shorts, and then stepped into the sandals. It felt funny going out with all of my toes showing.
I opened up my purse and felt for my new checkbook. Yesterday afternoon, Rachel had taken me to the bank to open an account, and she showed me how to deposit my first week’s pay. With her help, I wrote a check to my parents to go toward what I owed them for my clothes, and the rest was mine to do with as I pleased. It seemed like a vast sum of money.
Waiting at the front door, my thoughts strayed to what everyone at home would be doing right now. Services would be over and the Plain people of the district would be gathering together at the home of this week’s host, to have lunch and discuss the sermon.
And I was going to the mall.
Valerie pulled up and honked the horn. In the car I felt her watching me as I fastened my seat belt. “So,” she said. “Have you ever been to a mall before?” When I shook my head, she said, “Then where did you buy your clothes?”
“At a store near my house,” I said. “It’s called Walmart.”
There was a change in Valerie for just a moment, a little intake of breath, a subtle shift in expression. It was clear Walmart was not a desirable place to shop. I made a mental note.
We didn’t talk much for the rest of the drive. Valerie had the radio turned loud, and she drove with one hand hovering over the buttons, ready to change to a new song, often before the one we were listening to was over. Her shirt ended just above the waistband of her shorts, revealing a narrow slice of skin around her middle section, and her long blond hair flew about the open window.
We parked outside the mall, which was bigger than I had imagined. I knew that it was one building that held a lot of stores, but once I stepped inside I realized that it was like a town with a roof over it.
Valerie’s pace was fast and determined as we passed stores selling everything from toys to jewelry to shoes. One store sold only undergarments, and another only purses. Valerie walked right by several clothing stores without a glance before pulling me into one where loud music was playing. Inside, the walls were lined with racks of clothing, much fancier than what I had bought with my mother. Valerie stepped over to a rack of skirts and began to flick through them, sliding them past her, one by one, occasionally taking one out and holding it up to view more closely. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. At Walmart my mother had showed me what to try on. I stepped closer to the rack of silky-looking shirts and reached forward tentatively. “That’s cute,” Valerie said. The top was cluttered with flowery designs, and I realized that I didn’t know if I liked it or not. Valerie had moved on, and now stood before a rack of blue jeans. “Do you need jeans?” she asked.
I shook my head. “I already have a pair.”
Valerie made a snorting sound. “A pair?” she said. “You can’t have only one pair of jeans. I have, like, five pairs. And it still isn’t enough.”
I moved away from the shirts and started looking at the jeans, surprised to see how different they all were. Some had long billowy bottoms; others had pencil-thin legs. The shades varied from deep blue to the color of a December sky. I looked at one of the price tags and was shocked to see that the jeans cost over a hundred dollars. Suddenly my bank account didn’t seem so large. I was about to ask if all the clothes were this expensive when I saw that Valerie had already moved to a rack of dresses. A lavender one caught my eye, and I lifted it tentatively. It had embroidery around the neckline and hem, and looked like it would hang just above my knees. The price tag had a line through it with a less expensive number written by hand, a price I could afford.
“That’ll look good on you,” Valerie said. “You should try it on.” I followed her to a row of doors and stepped inside a room that was so small I could barely turn around in it. I took off my clothes, pulled the dress over my head, and looked in the mirror. The fabric was soft, and the dress clung to me in a pleasing way. I opened the fitting room door to show Valerie, who nodded firmly when she saw me. “You have to get it,” she said. It didn’t sound like I had a choice.
Back in my own clothes, I waited while Valerie stepped in and out of the fitting room, turning this way and that in each new outfit, scrutinizing herself in the mirrors set up to show several different views at once. Sometimes she asked my opinion, but more often she seemed to just be eyeing herself with criticism or approval.
When Valerie was ready, we stood in line at the cashier together. I wrote a check for the dress, figuring out how much money I had left and how little I could still afford to spend. Valerie was just getting started. I trailed after her from store to store, watching her try on shorts and tops and dresses. I was amazed at the way she navigated the mall, walking with confidence and surveying the array of choices each store offered. Every time we left a store and stepped into the main corridor of the mall, I was always a little surprised that there was no sun shining down or wind blowing my hair.
While I waited for Valerie to check out at one store, some small disks of color under the glass counter caught my eye. They looked like they belonged on a painter’s palette. I looked up to see Valerie watching me. “That’s eye shadow,” she said. Then she pointed to her own eyelids, brushed lightly with a pale blue color. “I know a place where they show you how to put makeup on. Do you want to go?”
I looked back down at the colors displayed beneath the glass. The girls in the magazines had painted eyelids, and so did Jess and Caroline. I had never thought about decorating my eyes, but suddenly it seemed necessary, something I couldn’t go another day without.
When I looked back up at Valerie, she wore an amused expression. “Come on,” she said. “The makeup lesson is free. You just have to pay for what you buy. It’ll be fun.”
“Okay,” I agreed, happy to follow Valerie to yet another store. Inside, I saw aisle after aisle of tubes and containers and tiny packets of color before Valerie led me to a counter, where we perched on high stools. “Are you here for a demonstration?” asked an older woman whose cheeks and eyelids were heavily tinted.
“For her, not me,” said Valerie. “And we’re starting from scratch here. She’s never worn makeup before.” I took a deep breath, the thrill of the unknown fluttering inside me.
The woman peered at me the way my grandfather looked at a piece of farm machinery before he bought it. Then she opened and closed drawers and set an array of brushes and tiny pots of color on the counter before me. “All right, then,” she said, her voice deep and throaty. “Let’s get started.”
For the next half hour I felt soft bristles tickle my skin, and listened to the woman explain how to choose colors for my eyelids, lips, and cheeks. She showed me techniques for spreading the color onto my skin so that it looked “natural,” as though it was normal to have blue eyelids or plum-colored lips. Sometimes Valerie chimed in, giving her opinion of a shade or pointing to a different color to try.
&nb
sp; “What do you think now?” asked the woman, pointing to the mirror. I stared at my reflection and was surprised at the elegant girl who looked back. My cheeks were rose-tinted, as though I had been outdoors on a windy day. My eyelids were brushed from lashes to brow with a light shade of lavender, while a darker tint of purple formed a neat smudge across the crease of my lid. The mascara applied from a thin brush made my lashes look dark and luxurious. I could have stared at that fancy girl all day.
“So?” said Valerie. “Not too Amish, right?”
I forced myself away from my reflection. “Not at all.”
Valerie helped me decide what to buy, including a zipper bag to hold it all. The price was higher than I thought it would be, and I realized I wouldn’t be able to afford anything else today. But one more glance at my reflection in the mirror confirmed that it was worth it. I turned to Valerie. “Thanks,” I said. “I never thought I could look like this.”
“Well,” said Valerie, “I have to admit that you have a lot to work with.”
I looked down, feelings of pride swelling in me. It was wrong to be vain about my looks. But at that moment it felt just right.
“So, I think we’ve done enough damage for one day,” said Valerie, looking at our collection of bags. “Let’s get something to drink.” Minutes later, we were sitting at a table in a large food area, sipping cold drinks, our shopping bags on an empty chair beside us.
“You didn’t buy much,” said Valerie.
“I only got my first week’s pay yesterday,” I said. “And I still owe my parents for the clothes I bought at home.”
Valerie seemed to mull that over. “Okay, then. You’ll have to come back when you have more to spend.” I felt a little slice of disappointment that she hadn’t said we would come back together.
“So,” she continued, leaning forward, “what’s your deal?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“What’s your plan? Like, how long will you be here?”
A World Away Page 11