Puppy Love

by Jenny Collins

Frankly, I think good old Beauty got off pretty easy. I mean, how hard is it to sleep? All she had to do was lie there until a handsome prince came and kissed her. Then they threw her a big party and she got to live happily ever after. She never had to worry about a stupid Fourth of July party. She never had to listen to Megan and the Megbots laughing at her. She never had to wonder if the prince liked her. She just had to take a really long nap.

  Maybe that was it, I thought. Maybe I was asleep and my entire life was one big nightmare. Maybe all I needed was for a handsome prince to come along and kiss me. Then I would wake up with perfect hair, perfect nails, a perfect dress, and a perfect boyfriend. We’d get on our horses and ride off to our castle, where every day little cartoon birds would bring us food and sing for us.

  Right. No prince was ever going to kiss me. No boy was ever going to kiss me. I was highly unkissable. Especially now that I was semi-blue. What kind of guy wants to go out with a blue girl?

  I closed my eyes and pretended I was Sleeping Beauty. I imagined feeling someone’s lips on mine. Then, weirdly enough, I did feel something. I felt something wet on my mouth, and hot breath on my face. I opened my eyes.

  Rufus was standing next to the bed, looking at me with a worried expression. When he saw me open my eyes, he started wagging his tail. I patted the bed and he jumped up next to me and settled down, curling into a big ball with his back against my side. I leaned my head on his neck and put my arm around him.

  “You’re better than some stupid old prince,” I told him.

  He grunted, stretching his paws. I buried my face in his fur, which, I have to admit, didn’t smell so great. “Ooh, Roof,” I said. “Someone’s getting a bath tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow. Tomorrow was the Fourth of July. I knew my parents were excited about going to the celebration at the country club. My father had been talking all week about the fireworks that the Fire Department was going to set off. And my mother had made her special strawberry angel food cake, which she said was sure to be better than anything anyone else brought.

  Normally, I would have been kind of excited about July Fourth. It’s a little corny, but I like fireworks and all that stuff. Plus, there were going to be lots of dogs there. But I couldn’t get into this Fourth of July at all. Not one bit. All I wanted to do was stay home and not see anyone.

  “Just you and me, Rufus,” I said. “Why can’t it just be you and me, together forever?”

  Rufus didn’t answer. He was sleeping, his big paws twitching as he dreamed about something, probably chasing squirrels. He let out a little bark. I rubbed his ears. “It’s all right,” I told him. “Everything’s okay.”

  He quieted down, giving a deep sigh and settling back into sleep. I kissed him on top of his head. He was my big, stinky prince.

  I picked up Pride & Prejudice and started reading. I was almost done with it, and was getting to the part where Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth finally—finally—tell each other how they feel. It was totally romantic, but it also made me even more depressed, so after a while I put the book down and closed my eyes.

  I dreamed I was in a castle tower. I was lying on a big bed, wearing a pretty dress. I was asleep. I don’t know how I knew that, since I was asleep and all, but I did. It was like I was watching a movie that I was starring in. I saw everything from the outside. I saw the moon through the tower window, round and full. I saw vines covered in thorns coming over the windowsill.

  Suddenly, a face appeared in the window. It was Jack, only he was dressed like a prince in a fairy tale. He had climbed up the thorny vines. Now he pulled himself over the windowsill and walked slowly toward the bed I was on.

  I watched him bend down and look at my face. He stared at it for a long time, as if I was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, as if he’d slayed a hundred dragons and ridden a thousand miles searching for me because he was so in love with me. Then, in slow motion, he leaned down. He closed his eyes and parted his lips. He was going to kiss me.

  “Cut!” someone shouted. Jack stood up. I opened my eyes, wondering why he hadn’t kissed me, and who had yelled.

  “That’s not the way the story goes,” said Megan, appearing from the shadows. “You don’t kiss her,” she told Jack. “She’s the ugly stepsister. I’m the one you kiss.”

  As I watched, Megan put her arms around Jack. She started to kiss him. I heard myself scream, “No!”

  I woke up. For a few seconds I had no idea where I was. Everything looked strange. Then I realized that it was because everything was dark. I was in my room. The moon was shining in through the window. Rufus was still next to me, snoring. I looked at the clock on my bedside table. It was one thirty in the morning.

  I lay back down. I tried to sleep, but every time I closed my eyes I saw Megan kissing Jack. I tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable, but the sheets felt hot and sticky, like vines holding me down. Eventually I fell into a sort of half sleep, where it felt like I woke up every three minutes and never really rested.

  The whole time, I heard Megan’s voice whispering in my ear. “I’m the one he wants to kiss,” she said. “Not you. Me.” Over and over she said it, until it became a singsong rhyme I couldn’t stop hearing: “I’m the one he wants to kiss. I’m the one he wants to kiss. I’m the one he wants to kiss.”

  When I woke up again, it was morning. Rufus was gone, and the sheets were twined around my legs. I was totally exhausted, as if I hadn’t slept at all. I heard someone walking down the hall, and then my father stuck his head into my room.

  “Good morning,” he said, sounding way too happy.

  “No, it’s not,” I said grumpily.

  “Come on,” he said. “We’re going to have a ton of fun today. Get up and come downstairs. I’m making blueberry pancakes.”

  “Okay,” I told him, just to make him go away.

  When he was gone, I sat up. My head was pounding and my mouth tasted like I’d been sucking on dirty socks. “Blueberry pancakes,” I said, looking at my blue hands. “How completely, exactly what I do not need right now.”

  I forced myself to stand up. As I walked out of my room I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. “Megan’s right,” I told myself as I started downstairs, where the smell of blueberries floated up from the kitchen, making me sick, “you are the ugly stepsister.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  I tried to get out of going. I really did. At breakfast I coughed a little bit and sniffled, hoping my parents would notice and ask if I was getting a cold. They didn’t. Then I decided just not to say anything at all, thinking maybe there was a chance they would somehow forget about the whole thing. I know. Fat chance. But short of faking a heart attack, I didn’t know what else to do.

  After breakfast, I went and hid in my room. I considered running away, at least long enough for my parents to leave without me. I even started to write a note telling them not to worry, that I’d be back later, after it was all over. But I’d barely written “Dear Mom and Dad” when there was a knock on my door.

  “Come in,” I said, shutting my notebook and trying to look like I wasn’t up to anything.

  My mother came in. “You’re doing homework on a holiday?” she asked, looking suspiciously at my notebook.

  “Writing a letter,” I said.

  “Mmm,” my mother said. “Well, I was wondering if you want to go shopping.”

  “What for?” I asked.

  “A dress,” she answered. “For today.”

  I groaned. Looking at dresses was the last thing I wanted to do. “Do I have to?” I said.

  “No,” said my mother.

  I looked up at her, totally shocked. “What?”

  “You don’t have to,” she said. “You’re old enough to make your own decision about it.”

  I was about to give her my answer, which was fully obvious to me, when she held up a finger. “But,” she said, “I want you to consider what not going means.”

  “What does it mean?” I asked, not wanting to hear the answe
r.

  “It means Megan and the Megbots win,” she said.

  It was funny to hear her use another Shanword. But I didn’t laugh.

  “That’s so not fair,” I said. See, she was right. If I didn’t go to the Fourth of July party, then Megan would think I was afraid of her, or at least embarrassed. And I sort of was embarrassed. But I also wanted to show her that she couldn’t scare me away.

  “Who said anything about fair?” said my mom, looking at my face and knowing she’d said the one thing that would get me to change my mind about going.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll go. But if this is a total disaster, you’re going to owe me big-time.”

  “Deal,” she said. “Now let’s go. We don’t have a lot of time.”

  We went back to the mall. Only it was more like launching a raid on an enemy fortress. My mother was a woman on a mission, charging through stores and looking through racks of dresses like there was a secret code hidden in one of them and we had to find it before the missile launched and wiped out Europe. Finally, at the third store we tried, she held one up. “This is it,” she said, pushing me toward the dressing room. “Try it on.”

  The dress was red, and I have to say, it was really pretty. It had thin little straps over the shoulders and it wasn’t so tight that it made me feel weird about my body. The skirt part ended just above my knees, and when I turned around, it twirled a little bit.

  “I love it,” I told my mother.

  “Now for the next part of the plan,” she said mysteriously.

  After we paid for the dress, she took me by the hand and led me out of the store. “Where are we going?” I asked her. “I’ve got my dress.”

  “You can’t wear a dress like that with hair like that,” she said, leading me into a salon.

  I started to protest, but she ignored me. Instead, she spoke to the man behind the salon’s desk for a minute. I saw him look over at me a couple of times and nod his head. I had no idea what they were talking about, but I was suddenly very nervous.

  My mother motioned for me to come over to them. “This is Carl,” she said. “I’m going to leave you with him. I’ll be back later.”

  “What’s he going to do?” I asked her.

  “Don’t worry,” Carl said. “You’re going to be beautiful.”

  My mother left, and Carl had me sit in a chair. He took the band off of my ponytail and my hair fell around my shoulders. I was surprised at how long it had gotten.

  “All right,” Carl said, walking around me. “I think I know just what to do. Are you ready to be transformed?”

  “I guess so,” I said doubtfully.

  Carl proceeded to wash my hair. Then he brought out a tub of some funny-colored gel and started to apply it to my hair. I didn’t know if it was conditioner or what, and I didn’t ask. To tell the truth, I was afraid to find out. I was especially afraid when Carl put these squares of silver paper around parts of my hair and folded them up like wontons.

  “Now let’s see what we can do about those arms,” Carl said.

  I’d forgotten about my blue arms. I guess I’d gotten used to them. Now that Carl had reminded me, I looked at them and felt awful all over again. They were going to look so stupid with my red dress, like I was a walking American flag.

  “What can you do?” I asked Carl.

  He smiled. “Magic,” he said. “Just wait.”

  He disappeared, returning with another tub of goo. This time, he took a brush and brushed the stuff onto my arms and hands. It tingled a little, but it didn’t hurt or anything. When the blue parts of my arms were all covered, he put the tub down.

  “Ten minutes,” he said. “I’ll be back.”

  He left me alone to tingle. It felt like the longest ten minutes of my life. I kept looking down at my arms. The goo was turning a funny color, sort of orangey, and I was afraid it was doing something weird to my skin. I looked around for help, but everybody was busy, and I was afraid to interrupt them. So I just sat there, watching my arms turn orange and trying not to worry.

  Finally, Carl came back. He had me stick my arms in the sink, where he rinsed them with warm water. As the orange goo slid off, I was surprised to see my normal skin underneath.

  “See?” Carl said. “I told you. Magic.”

  “What is it?” I asked him.

  “Bleaching cream,” he answered. “What do you think of the results?”

  I held up my hand. There was no trace of the dye. “I think it’s fantastic,” I said, so happy I almost started to cry.

  “We usually use it on women cursed with unfortunate moustaches,” said Carl. “But we also use it to get dye off when we get it on our hands. I thought it might work, and thank goodness it did. Now let’s get back to your hair.”

  He turned me around and put the chair back so that my head was in the sink. I felt him removing the foil squares, and then water was running over my head. While he rinsed my hair, I kept looking at my hands. I still couldn’t believe that I was back to normal. I couldn’t wait to show my mother.

  Carl wrapped a towel around my hair and had me walk over to another chair. When I sat down, he turned me around so that I was looking at myself in a mirror. Then he undid the towel and pulled it away.

  I gasped. My hair was its normal reddish-brown color, but with lighter highlights here and there. It wasn’t a huge change, but it made me look totally different.

  “Like it?” Carl asked.

  I couldn’t speak. All I could do was reach up and touch my hair. I kept touching it, afraid it was fake and would come off if I pulled on it too hard.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” said Carl, picking up a pair of scissors. “Now sit back and relax.”

  He began cutting my hair, taking off little pieces here and there. I watched the bits fall to the floor, where they started to make a pretty big pile. I was sort of afraid he was cutting too much off, but he seemed to know what he was doing, so I let him do it.

  When he was done, he turned me around again so that I couldn’t see myself. Then he dried my hair, brushing it and teasing it. Finally, he turned the blow dryer off and put it down.

  “Finished,” he said. “Ready to see it?”

  I nodded. Carl spun the chair around, and I saw myself in the mirror. My hair was beautiful. Carl had cut it to just above my shoulders, which I never would have thought would work on me, but it totally did. I had bangs, and the whole thing looked amazing.

  “I’m pretty,” I said softly. “I’m really pretty.” I looked at Carl. “Thank you so much,” I said.

  He put his hand on my shoulder. “It was all there already,” he said. “I just brought it out.”

  I thought we were done, but Carl had more surprises for me. He took me over to another part of the salon, where a woman did my nails. She filed and buffed them, then applied a coat of clear polish. I couldn’t believe my short, sensible nails could ever look nice, but somehow, they did.

  And I still wasn’t finished. After the nails, I went to yet another table. This time, a man showed me how to put on makeup. Not a lot, but enough so that my face looked more alive. And all it took was some blush and tinted lip gloss. The man had me do it myself, so that I knew I could do it again any time I wanted to.

  By the time my mother came back for me, I was a different person. When she saw me, her mouth fell open, and I thought she might cry.

  “I know,” I said, hugging her. “It’s a new me.”

  “No,” she said, sounding like Carl. “It’s the same you. Just cleaned up a little.” Now that two people had said it, I was almost starting to believe it myself.

  “Thank you,” I said. “For everything.”

  “You’re very welcome,” she said. Then she looked at her watch. “We have to go. We need to be at the club in an hour.”

  We left the mall and hurried home. There I put on my dress, along with some shoes my mother had picked up while I was getting my makeover. When I was all ready, I stood in front of the mirror and looked at
myself. Carl and my mom were right; I was still Allie. But I looked fantastic.

  “Who’s the ugly stepsister now?” I said to the mirror.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The party had already started when we arrived at the country club. Families had spread out blankets on the grass and were enjoying picnic lunches. Some of the younger kids were already running around with sparklers in their hands, even though it was only about two o’clock and you could barely see the tiny stars shooting from them.

  Then there were the dogs. A lot of people had brought their dogs with them, and they were running around on the grass having a great time. I saw some of the older club members eyeing them suspiciously. Probably, I thought, they were afraid the dogs would dig up the lawn or do their business right on a rose bush or something. But as far as I could see, the dogs were behaving just fine.

  We’d brought Rufus with us, of course. He had on a brand-new red collar that matched my dress perfectly. Some of the other dogs had more elaborate costumes. I saw dogs with flag bandanas tied around their necks, dogs with hats, and even one dog dressed like the Statue of Liberty. Mostly, though, the dogs didn’t have anything on, which I was happy to see. It looked like most people agreed with me that dogs didn’t need to be dressed up.

  For once I couldn’t wait to run into Megan. I wanted her to see how great I looked. And I didn’t have to wait long. Not five minutes after I walked outside, I heard her voice behind me.

  “I can’t believe it,” she said.

  She sounded completely shocked, which made me happy. Her reaction was even better than I’d hoped it would be. Fixing a huge smile on my face, I turned around, ready to enjoy my big moment. But when I saw Megan, my smile disappeared.

  “You copied my dress!” she said.

  It was true. Not the copying part—I had no idea what she was going to wear to the party—but the part about our dresses being the same. Exactly the same. Well, except for the fact that Megan had a corsage of red, white, and blue roses pinned to hers. I stared at Megan and she stared back. She was so mad, she didn’t even notice my hair, my nails, or my arms. All she could see was the dress. Her dress. And all I could see was the corsage.