by Carol Gorman
“Your relatives sure have interesting experiences,” I said, grinning. While it was good to hear one of his stories, this was different from the others. Usually his stories have happy endings. The poor, skinny uncle who wouldn’t ride elevators sure didn’t live happily ever after.
I wondered if Zach wanted to tell me that our story wasn’t going to have a happy ending either.
“Tell me more about your Dracula scene.”
He stood up. “I’m going home.”
What in the world was wrong with Zach? I’d never seen him acting so weird.
It had to be Cassandra. He must be falling in love with her, just like Ginger said, and he didn’t have the heart to tell me. I had a deep ache in the middle of my chest.
I climbed the side of the ravine behind him, and we rode our bikes down the street. When we got to his house he turned in without even saying good-bye.
CHAPTER TEN
“GIRLS,” MS. LANDERS called out at rehearsal that evening. “Have you all scheduled fittings for the clothes you’re going to model?”
Everyone nodded except me. I hadn’t called any of the stores because I hadn’t talked to Ms. Landers yet about the swimsuit. I figured if that was wrong, maybe my whole list was wrong. Ms. Landers’s gaze stopped on me.
“Lizard, have you contacted the stores on your list?”
“No, but I will. Can I talk to you after the rehearsal?”
“Sure.”
We practiced the four songs, and Ms. Landers gave us her critique. She told me I should swing my hips a little more in the up-tempo song. “That should loosen you up just a bit,” she said.
Good grief. I wasn’t even sure my hips could swing. They’d never swung before, as far as I knew.
After she’d finished her comments, Ms. Landers gestured to seven mirrors with lights around them set up on some long tables.
“Tonight I’m going to talk to you all about makeup,” she said. “Come and gather round the first makeup mirror.”
We clustered around a chair where Samantha sat, facing the mirror.
“In fashion modeling, simple is better,” Ms. Landers said. “I’d like you all to wear some foundation.”
“We’ll pair up and choose the right shade. Test it on your wrist.” She held up a bottle of tannish stuff.
“Use your fingers to apply it,” Ms. Landers said. “They’re better at smoothing it into the nooks and crannies around your eyes and nose. Your fingers also warm it and make it easier to spread. Start at the center of your face, then blend it outward.”
She smoothed it over Samantha’s face, till her skin looked smooth and pale, as if she were wearing a tight mask.
“Next, the eyes. We want shadow with a soft color. Use the lightest shade over your lid, and apply a darker shade along your crease line and the outer corner.” She demonstrated. “Then blend.”
I was starting to get bored, but the other girls were leaning in to see every stroke Ms. Landers made with the brush. I just wanted to get the swimsuit thing cleared up with Ms. Landers and go home and sort my baseball cards.
Ms. Landers continued to drone on about makeup, then we had to pair up and practice putting it on. I ended up with Abby Bowen, the freshman with the crayon eyebrows I’d met on the first night of rehearsal. Since I hadn’t listened very well, I made a few mistakes. Abby asked me to hand her the mascara, and I couldn’t remember what it was. I figured it was either the long thin thing, or the round flat deal, but I didn’t know which. I shrugged and handed her the round flat deal.
“No, the mascara,” she said.
“Oh, I didn’t hear what you said.”
The rest of the makeup practice went okay, even though it was awfully boring.
After the rehearsal was over, I waited until everyone was gone so I could talk to Ms. Landers in private.
“Yes, Lizard, you wanted to see me?” she said, shuffling through some papers at the table.
“Yes,” I said. “I think you may have made a mistake.” I handed her my sheet with the clothes assignments. She scanned the paper and looked up.
“A mistake?”
“Number three. The swimsuit.”
“That’s not a mistake, Lizard.” She handed it back.
“It’s not?”
“It’s a competition swimsuit. A lot of young girls in this area are competing with the Swimming Association. You’re the perfect choice to model it because of your athletic build.”
“But—but—” How could I tell her? “I don’t have … I mean, well, Ms. Landers, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m—well, I’m pretty thin all over.”
Ms. Landers smiled. “You have a fine body, Lizard. You’re athletic and strong. That’s why I chose you to model the swimsuit. You’re as strong as the girls who’re going to swimming competitions. They’ll identify with you.”
“Wouldn’t you like to pick someone like Lisa? I’m sure she’d love to model the swimsuit.”
Ms. Landers laughed. “I’m sure she would. But I want you to model it. You’re the best choice, believe me.”
“But—” How could I tell her that I’d feel practically naked up there? And skinnier than a rail?
“Lizard,” Ms. Landers said, “you should be so proud of yourself! You’re not only a lovely girl, you’re healthy and strong. That’s what I want to project here. I want a lean, strong—and pretty—image. That’s you. You’re the perfect choice.”
It was flattering to hear an adult who wasn’t in my family describe me that way. And she looked so sure she was right, I had the feeling I could stand there for the next three days, and I wouldn’t change her mind.
“Okay.” But I still didn’t want to wear the swimsuit in the fashion show. I’d lost my argument, and I didn’t know what else to say.
“You’ll be very proud of yourself, Lizard,” Ms. Landers said. “Wait and see.”
Mom picked me up outside the mall. I didn’t talk all the way home. When we pulled into the driveway, she asked me if I was okay. “Yes,” I said, “everything’s fine.”
But it wasn’t fine. It was all mixed up. My boyfriend had fallen in love with a girl because of her perfumed neck, and I was going to be horribly embarrassed by being nearly naked in front of a whole audience full of people.
Up until now, I’d been fairly good at getting myself out of scrapes. But this time was different.
If Zach was falling in love with Cassandra, I figured that even though it hurt a lot, I’d have to accept it. We could still be friends. But the fashion show was something I could do something about! There was no law that said I had to be in it, or that I had to wear a swimsuit.
I either had to think of a solution or get out of the show. And I’d better do it fast! The fashion show was only ten days away.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE NEXT DAY AFTER SCHOOL, I was getting my homework books out of my locker when I heard Ginger say, “Hey, Sammy! You want to come to the mall with Lisa and Heather and me?”
“I’ve got football practice,” he said, grinning like an idiot at her. He shoved one hand into a back pocket and shifted his weight onto one foot, then the other.
“Maybe we’ll stop by your practice for a while,” she said. She twisted from side to side and blushed, grinning even more idiotically than he did, which I didn’t think was possible.
With them both shifting and squirming in front of each other, they looked like two people doing a bizarre dance, only there wasn’t any music.
“We’re looking pretty good, Coach says,” Sam bragged.
“You guys look pretty good, anyway!” Ginger blurted out, then shrieked, turned a full circle and slapped her hand over her mouth as if the comment had just slipped out.
I can’t believe how weird some people act with the opposite sex. I shook my head and started toward the door.
“Hey, Lizard,” Sam called out. “Zach and Ed and Stinky are coming over after supper to pass the football around. You want to get Mary Ann, and we’ll get up a game?�
��
“Sure.”
Ginger laughed. “How can you practice football for two hours and then go home and play again? You must be so strong!”
“Yeah, well …” Sam said with a deeper voice than usual, trying to act modest. I nearly threw up.
“It’s all those muscles!” Ginger said, wrapping her hands around one of his arms.
I saw Sam flex the biceps on his arm where Ginger was touching him, and a laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
“Be sure to bring all those muscles home right after practice, Sam,” I told him. “It’s your night to set the table.”
Sam glared at me, but I laughed again and walked away.
“You have to wear a swimsuit?” Mary Ann’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. We were sitting on my back porch waiting for the guys to come and play football. Bob was sitting at our feet, his tongue hanging out of his mouth.
“Well, I’m not going to,” I said, rolling the ball around on my lap. “I have to figure out how I can get out of the fashion show.”
“Isn’t it too late?”
“I won’t wear a swimsuit onstage and parade around in front of everyone.”
“How are you going to get out of it?”
“I haven’t figured it out yet.” I tossed the football in the air and caught it. “Mary Ann, have you noticed how strange Zach is acting lately?” I leaned closer to her. “I think the kids at school may be right, that he’s fallen in love with Cassandra.”
“He seems really out of it,” Mary Ann agreed. “But how do you know it’s because of Cassandra?”
“What else could it be? Whenever I ask him about the Dracula scene, he doesn’t want to talk about it. And if I ask him about Cassandra, he just says she’s really nice.”
“She is nice.”
“I know. I’m afraid he wants to be her boyfriend.”
“Sometimes Al Pickering is the same way,” Mary Ann said.
“Really?”
“Well, most of the time he seems really glad to see me, but once in a while he doesn’t act interested. I asked my sister about that, and she says she learned in her health class that it’s changing hormones. She says teenagers are supposed to be moody.”
“So you think Zach’s just moody? That’s all it is?”
“It’s possible.”
We didn’t get to talk anymore about it because at that moment, Ed and Stinky and Zach trooped through the gate. Bob barked and bounded over to them.
“Hi, guys,” I said. “Ready to play?”
“Yeah,” Ed said. The guys greeted Bob with pats and scratches on his neck.
Zach smiled at me for a second, then said, “Hi, Sam,” to my brother, who was charging out the back door.
“Let’s go,” Sam said, clapping his hands.
We moved deeper into the backyard, away from the maple tree, with Bob following us.
“Stay,” I said to Bob, pushing him into a sitting position. He wagged his tail and stood up again. “Sit,” I said, and pushed him down again. “If you get in the way, I’ll have to put you inside.”
We chose up teams, and it was Zach, Mary Ann, and me against Sam, Ed, and Stinky. They won the toss, and Sam said they’d receive.
Zach kicked off, and the ball sailed nearly to the telephone wires before coming down into Ed’s outstretched hands. Ed dodged Mary Ann. I ran for him but was blocked by Sam. Zach easily got by Stinky and rammed into Ed, tackling him and knocking him to the ground.
“Hey!” Mechtensteimer said. “This is touch football, Walters.” He got up and gave Zach a shove.
Zach shoved back. “Consider yourself touched,” he said.
Ed rubbed his elbow. It was scraped and bleeding a little. “Man, that wasn’t fair.”
“A tackle doesn’t count,” Mary Ann said.
On the next play, Mary Ann handed the ball off to Zach. I moved farther down the yard, my hands up, waiting for Zach to pass it to me. I was ready, and with Mary Ann covering me, I was in a great position to run for a touchdown.
Zach saw me and threw. It was a wild pass. The ball went sailing over the fence into the neighbor’s yard.
“Zach!” I yelled. “What kind of pass was that?”
“It was the Crazy Ball-Over-the-Fence pass!” Ed hollered, grinning. Stinky laughed.
I was beginning to get ticked off at Zach. This problem he was having, raging hormones or not, was affecting his game, and that really bugged me.
“Will you get your head in the game?” I yelled at him.
He scowled and ran out the gate to get the ball. A few seconds later, he hollered, “Let’s see you catch this, Lizard!”
I couldn’t see him on the other side of the fence, but a moment later, the ball was heaved with amazing fury into the air. It flew high above the fence and arced out over the yard.
“I got it,” I called out. I watched the ball sail through the air. I gauged my position under the ball so I’d be there to receive it when it came down.
I ran backward as the ball sailed in my direction, Bob barking furiously behind me. I reached up—it was just above my fingertips—and suddenly my feet were knocked out from under me. I toppled backward over Bob’s big, furry body.
I put out my hand to cushion the fall and crashed to the ground.
“Ow!” I rolled over on my side, holding my wrist. The pain was crushing.
“Lizard! Lizard!” Mary Ann got to me first. “Are you okay?”
“My wrist.” The words came out in squeaks between gasps and cries I couldn’t help.
Everyone crowded around me.
“Lizard!” Zach said, kneeling next to me. “Oh, Lizard.” His face crumpled. If I hadn’t been in so much pain, I would’ve given his arm a squeeze. I could see he felt terrible.
Mary Ann turned around to the others. “Call her mom! We need to take her to the hospital!”
Even through that awful pain, I realized it: This was my ticket out of the fashion show. Who wants to see a model wearing a cast?
All right!
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE DOCTOR SAID MY wrist was fractured, and he put on a cast that went from my thumb to my elbow. Mary Ann, Sam, and Zach came to the emergency room with my mom and me.
While Mom talked with the doctor and Sam and Zach eavesdropped on the conversation, Mary Ann stood next to the table I sat on and looked sad.
“Mary Ann, cheer up,” I said out of the corner of my mouth, so nobody else would hear. “Don’t you know what this means?”
Mary Ann looked surprised and shook her head.
“Ms. Landers takes one look at this, and I’m out of the fashion show.” I grinned.
Mary Ann’s face lit up. “Hey, I didn’t think of that.”
“No modeling swimsuits. No hiccuping, nobody laughing at me or making fun.”
“No Cubs game, either.”
“I know, but even that isn’t worth public humiliation.”
“I guess not.”
I took a deep breath and let it out. “I feel great. And I didn’t even break my pitching wrist.”
Zach came over. He looked terrible. “Lizard,” he said in a soft voice. “I’m really sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, Zach,” I said. “I should’ve looked where I was going. And I should’ve put Bob inside. He always wants to play in our games.”
“I shouldn’t have thrown it like that. I was mad.”
“Because I yelled at you for that wild pass,” I said. “I’m sorry I yell—”
“Oh, cut it out, Lizard,” he said. “This is my fault.”
“No, it’s not. And it’s not a big deal. Really.”
“She’s telling the truth, Zach,” Mary Ann said.
I couldn’t tell him that I was happy I’d broken my wrist, but I didn’t want him to feel guilty about it, either.
“Want to be the first to sign my cast?” I asked him. He grinned, and the nurse handed him a felt-tip pen.
He wrote: I know I break you up, Lizard, but this
is ridiculous.
Everybody knew about my wrist by the time I got to school the next day. Ginger raced over as Mary Ann and I walked toward the building. Lisa and Heather followed close behind.
“Oh, Lizard!” Ginger cried. “It’s terrible! I’m so sorry! It’s bad to have to wear a cast, but the worst thing of all is that you’ll probably be out of the fashion show!”
“I’ll have to talk with Ms. Landers,” I said.
Lisa smiled. “A model is supposed to be flawless.”
“You said that about the scratches on Lizard’s chin,” Mary Ann said pointedly, “but she was picked to model, anyway.”
“But nobody models with a cast,” Ginger said. She put a hand sympathetically on my arm. “I’m sorry, Lizard.”
Lisa looked very pleased about the whole thing. “I wonder if I’ll get to model the swimsuit?” she said. “I’d have to get a different size, of course.”
She would have to point that out.
“Does it hurt?” Ginger asked.
“A little.”
“You fell over your dog?” Lisa asked, her lips curling up in a wicked smile. “That’s pretty funny.”
I smiled sweetly. “You should try it sometime.”
The bell rang and we headed into the school building.
I went to the rehearsal that night feeling pretty good. My last rehearsal, I thought. I told Mom to wait five minutes after dropping me off in case Ms. Landers said there was no reason for me to stay.
“I’ll probably be right back,” I said to Mom.
“I’m going to run into the bookstore, and that’ll take a few minutes. If you’re not back by then, I’ll go on home.”
“I’ll be there,” I said.
I hurried down to the empty store and walked over to Ms. Landers. Some of the girls pointed. “Look at Lizard!”
“One less to compete for Supermodel,” someone whispered, and they giggled.
“Hi,” I said to Ms. Landers.
She looked up from her ever-present notebook. “Hi, Liz—” She stopped, gawking at my arm. “What happened?”
“I broke my wrist playing football.”
I saw Lisa edging over to us, eavesdropping.