Swept Up

by Taylor Morris

  I all of a sudden wished I couldn’t hear Eve. I backed away a little.

  She finally ended the call and turned back to me. “All set! She’ll meet us here after school and then I’ll go to the museum and you guys can go to the mall.”

  “Cool,” I said. “Did you say she’s going to the dance on Friday?”

  “Yeah, I convinced her that I wouldn’t leave her alone in a corner and we’d all have fun together.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Fun.”

  “So we’re all set then,” she said. “For after school?”

  “Yep,” I said, feeling the knots tighten in my stomach. “All set.”

  What had I gotten myself into this time?

  CHAPTER 16

  “Mickey, this is a great idea,” Kristen said as we waited for Marla to meet us after school.

  “I hope it’s okay,” I said, keeping a careful watch on the road for her arrival. I was nervous, having no idea how this whole thing would go.

  “It’s going to be fine,” Lizbeth said, reassuring me. “There’s nothing to be nervous about.”

  “I’m not nervous,” I said, totally lying.

  “We’re all here together,” Lizbeth said. “Supporting each other, all for the good of Eve. Besides, nothing bad ever happens at the mall.”

  “Hi,” a voice behind us said.

  We turned back toward the school and saw Marla standing there wearing large sunglasses that fit her face perfectly.

  “Hey, Marla,” I said, quickly changing my tone. “We didn’t know you were here already. Were you inside the school?” Because otherwise she’d just managed a total ninja sneak attack.

  “I had to turn in a signed form to go to the dance,” she said.

  “We’re so excited you’re going,” Lizbeth said. I told them she was in for the dance when I brought them up to date about my shopping idea.

  “Yeah,” Marla said. “Should be cool.”

  It was impossible to read her expression from behind those sunglasses, but I couldn’t tell if she really was excited about it or if she wanted no part of it.

  “Ready to head over to the mall?” I asked.

  “Sure,” Kristen said.

  “Great,” Lizbeth said.

  “I guess,” Marla said.

  Yep. She wanted no part of it at all. Great. This was going to be a long—I mean, interesting—afternoon.

  Once we got to the mall, I felt like I was the one who had to be in charge. Kristen and Lizbeth seemed to be watching me and Marla to see what might happen, like we were a reality show they couldn’t turn away from. As for Marla herself, she walked a little ahead of us as if she knew where she was going—even though this was our town.

  “So,” I said, “the goal is dresses for tomorrow night. And whatever else you want to look at, like accessories. Also, I have a genius strategy for mall shopping. It’s all about where you start. The key is, it doesn’t have to be at the end here. It can be in the middle or at the other end. You just have to know where you’re going next.”

  “Great plan,” Lizbeth said.

  “Um, that’s actually my plan,” Marla said. “Eve and I came up with it.”

  “Oh,” I said. Why was she being so defensive about it? I tried to stay calm and shrug it off. I wasn’t about to start something with her. “That makes sense. I mean, I learned it from Eve so . . . it’s a genius plan.”

  “Thanks,” Marla said. “We came up with it together when we were, like, nine.”

  “Okay. Cool,” I said. There was something about the way she insisted on letting me know it was her idea that made me wish I hadn’t brought it up in the first place.

  “So!” Lizbeth jumped in to rescue me. “Where should we start? I think maybe Monahan’s is having a sale.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Kristen said, shooting me a look. Had I done something wrong? I was trying my best here!

  We started toward the store and I said, “I have another idea for Eve. Since she has to work on her project tonight, maybe we can look for a dress for her, too. We can pull a few and put them on hold, maybe even take pictures of them so she can decide without having to come here. That way she can come by tomorrow after school and just snag the one she wants. It’ll be a tight turnaround and she may not even have time, but I thought it might be nice, just in case.”

  “That’s a great idea, Mickey,” Lizbeth said.

  “If we’re doing that then we might as well skip Monahan’s,” Marla said. “Totally not Eve’s style.”

  “Oh, well, it’s just in case,” I said, trying really hard to maintain cool. “And Monahan’s has a ton of styles. I’m sure we can find something.”

  “If you think so.” Marla smiled, but it wasn’t a friendly smile. I was getting the feeling that no matter how hard I worked, Marla wasn’t about to give me an inch.

  “How about we go to the department store down here,” Lizbeth said. “There are all kinds of dresses. I’m sure we can find something for all of us.”

  We started in that direction, and I took the moment to calm myself. I was not in a competition with Marla, but I felt like maybe she was forcing me into one. I could be nice and not aggressive. I could do it for Eve. What Marla wanted to do was up to her.

  “Marla,” Kristen said. “Are you excited about going to the dance?”

  Marla pulled her white fringe bag up higher on her shoulder. “I guess. I’m kind of afraid to talk much more about it to Eve, to be honest. She’s been pretty stressed all week about this project.”

  Wow, I thought. Emotions!

  Okay, that was mean.

  To her, I said, “It’s going to be so much fun. We’ll all hang out together.”

  “Well, she does have a boyfriend,” she said as if I were stupid for forgetting. “She’ll probably want to spend some time with him.”

  “I know,” I said. “He’s my best friend.”

  “I thought Eve was your best friend?” Marla said, and it felt like a challenge. Like she was just trying to stick me where it hurt.

  “I think the party dresses are on the second floor,” Lizbeth said before I could respond.

  We got to the dress section and Marla immediately branched off and started flipping through the racks.

  “You okay?” Lizbeth asked.

  I glanced over at Marla. She held out an apricot dress that I seriously hoped she wasn’t considering for Eve.

  “Is it just me or is she trying to make it hard for me?” I tried to concentrate on the dresses, but I was too distracted. “That whole ‘I thought Eve was your best friend’ comment—what was that?”

  “It was really harsh,” Lizbeth agreed. “You’re a champ for trying but maybe you two just aren’t going to be friends.”

  “That’s putting it lightly,” I said.

  “You’re trying, you’re being nice, and if she can’t accept that then what else can you do?”

  “But I promised Eve I’d take care of her,” I said.

  “And you are,” Lizbeth said. She pulled out a draped green dress. “But it doesn’t mean you have to put up with her snotty comments.”

  “True,” I said. I looked back to Marla, who thumbed intently through a new rack of dresses. “I still want to try, though.”

  “You’re very brave,” Lizbeth said, putting the green dress back. “Good luck.”

  I walked over to where Marla stood looking at more dresses. She had a lemon-yellow number thrown over her shoulder.

  “Find anything good?” I asked, looking to the hideously colored dress.

  “Just this one,” she said. She held it out—high asymmetrical neck, cap sleeves, medium length. Horrendous.

  “For Eve?”

  “Yeah,” she said, slinging it back over her shoulder. “It’
ll really work with her coloring.”

  “You think?” I asked about the electric-yellow dress. “It’s a hard color to pull off.”

  “And if anyone can do it, Eve can,” she said. She moved over to a new rack of clothes, and I casually followed her.

  “I was thinking of surprising her with a styling session at my mom’s salon tomorrow,” I said, pressing forward. I wasn’t sure what was happening at the salon with GC gone, and frankly, I didn’t want to think about it. But I’d already told Eve about it, so I was leaving the invitation open. “Give her some big, dramatic curls.”

  Marla wrinkled her nose. “Eve with curls? She’d hate that.”

  I stopped pretending to look through the racks with Marla and said, “I don’t think she would.”

  “It would look terrible on her.”

  “Um, excuse me,” I said, because I don’t even think so. This was hair she was talking about. “First of all, Eve would look amazing with curls. If anyone could pull them off, it’s her.”

  Marla paused long enough to glare at me.

  “Second, we only have the best stylists in the country at our salon, and they could make anyone look incredible in just about any style. So please don’t question what Eve might look like once they’re done with her, okay? Because she will look amazing.”

  “Fine, calm down,” Marla said as if I were the one who was being a pain. From the corner of my eye I could see Kristen and Lizbeth shuffling toward us through the racks. “I’m just saying, I’m not sure if curls are her thing.”

  “What’s wrong with curls?” I asked, because hello! I am curl-centric!

  She sighed as if this whole conversation were totally annoying. But she started it. “Nothing is wrong with them. They’re just not my thing. Don’t take it personally. It’s not a character assassination or anything. Sheesh.”

  “Fine,” I said. “I mean, I happen to think Eve could pull just about any look off because she’s so pretty, but if you don’t think so we could tell her.”

  She turned to me and said, “You know that’s not what I’m saying, okay?”

  “Yeah, sure,” I said, my face heating up. “Fine.”

  “Look, Mickey,” she said, saying my name with a sneer.

  “Guys!” Lizbeth said, finally arriving at our racks with Kristen. “Calm down, okay?”

  “Yeah,” Kristen said. “Don’t kill each other. Juvie’s not worth it.”

  “Kristen . . .” Lizbeth sighed.

  “What? I’m trying to lighten the situation.”

  “I’m just saying,” Marla continued, ignoring Kristen and Lizbeth, “it’s actually not personal, okay? I’m just looking out for Eve. I can’t be cool with someone who isn’t cool with my friend.”

  “I’m looking out for Eve, too!” I said, raising my voice. Just what did she think we were doing there? And who was she, anyway? Eve’s personal bodyguard?

  “You guys,” Lizbeth said. “Seriously. Calm down.”

  “If you were looking out for Eve,” Marla said, “you wouldn’t have done what you did.”

  “You don’t know anything about our friendship,” I said.

  “Truce!” Kristen said. “Someone call it! Security will be here any second!”

  I didn’t know if she was serious about security or not, but I did take a breath and a step back. Marla folded her arms over her chest and I just waited for her to say “She started it.”

  “Fine,” I said. I waited for Marla to say something similar, but she didn’t. She began pawing through the racks again as if the whole thing were over. But it so wasn’t. I had to remember the truth of what I’d just said—we were there for Eve. “Marla, listen.” I took a deep breath. “This is so dumb. We are here for Eve. Both of us. Right?”

  “Of course,” she said.

  “I’m trying to make things up to Eve. But that’s between us. She’s an awesome person who deserves a big night of fun in a pretty dress, especially after how hard she’s been working on this project. I just want to make sure we find that for her. All right?”

  Her face softened. “Right.”

  “I know there are, like, fifty dresses here that would look amazing on Eve. So let’s find her a few options, send her pics, and put them on hold. Okay?”

  “Definitely,” she said. “And just so you know, I don’t hate you. I know Eve can look out for herself.” She paused, staring at her shoes for a minute. Finally, she looked up at me, her eyes a little sad. “It’s just weird seeing her with all her new friends after not being around her every day anymore. I’ve missed her since she left. That’s all.”

  Eve and I had talked about how hard it was for her to move away from her friends, even though it wasn’t that far. At the time she said she didn’t want to be all whiny about it, and I told her that if it were me I’d be whining all day long. She made it look so easy that it was hard to imagine she wasn’t anything other than self-assured and outgoing. But I bet she felt a lot like Marla did now. A lot like I’d been feeling in the past week. Without a best friend—someone you just clicked with—it was easy to feel entirely alone.

  “So, should we truce?” I asked, offering my hand.

  Marla looked at it for a moment, then smiled and said, “Of course. For Eve—and because I suppose you’re not horrible.”

  “Ha-ha,” I said. “Not funny.”

  Okay, maybe we weren’t going to be best friends, but we could join forces.

  And we did. As we pushed through more racks, looking for the perfect dress for Eve, Marla and I both emerged with our favorite choices. She held up a pale-pink number, and I had picked out a royal-blue one.

  “That’s pretty cute,” Marla said, a hint of surprise in her voice.

  “So’s that one,” I said of the spaghetti-strapped dress with a belted waist. “That cut would look really cute on Eve.”

  Marla held the dress aloft and headed through the racks to me. “That one, too. She loves wearing bold colors.”

  I looked at the dress more closely. “The only thing I’m worried about is the length—it’s a bit long, like it’ll come just below her knee.”

  “Hmm, you may be right,” Marla said, holding out the end of the dress. “She’d have to have it altered.”

  “And there’s no time for that.”

  “Not to mention she’d have to spend more money on it,” Marla said.

  “True.” I looked at the pale-pink dress she’d picked out once again. “This is really cute. I think Eve would like it. Want to take a pic to send to her, then put it on hold in case she wants it?”

  “Sounds good,” Marla said. “And if we find others we’ll do the same.”

  “Agreed,” I said.

  We found a couple more and took their pics as well. More importantly, though, was that Marla and I hadn’t killed each other in the process. For that alone Eve would be happy. I just hoped she had time to choose a dress—maybe even one of the dresses we’d picked out.

  It seemed like everything lately hung on by a tiny thread of time. I wondered how it would all work out.

  CHAPTER 17

  Once we left the mall, I wanted to go to the salon—usually the place I could calm down and feel more like myself. However, I knew things were bleak there with Giancarlo gone. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be there without him, but I decided to see if Mom had finally come to her senses and rehired him.

  When I walked in the doors I immediately felt the change. The salon felt quieter. Don’t get me wrong, business was booming, but that magic buzz was missing.

  “Hey, Megan,” I said, walking up to the reception desk.

  She smiled, but it wasn’t the big, happy smile she usually gave. It was something more reserved. “Hi, Mickey. What brings you by?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, looking at
Giancarlo’s empty station and feeling a pull in the pit of my stomach. This wasn’t right at all. “It’s quiet here, isn’t it?”

  Megan looked back out at the salon, taking in the stylists working on their clients. But she nodded her head and said, “It’s definitely been a bit quiet.” I thought she was going to say “since Giancarlo left,” but she didn’t. “The truth is, I think everyone is a bit gun-shy. I’ve seen stylists fired, but never like that. And never someone like Giancarlo.”

  “I don’t think he should have been fired,” I said. Megan didn’t say anything to that. Might have been that whole gun-shy thing and the fact that Mom was her boss. “Want me to bring you up a drink or anything?”

  “Nah,” she said. “Thanks, though, Mickey.”

  I found Mom in her office, going through her e-mails.

  “Have fun at the mall, sweetie?” she asked, glancing up at me between typing.

  “Yeah,” I said. “A little dramatic but good in the end.”

  “Drama—ugh,” she said. “The last thing I need more of.”

  “Mom, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure, honey,” she said, keeping her eyes on her computer.

  “About Giancarlo,” I said.

  “Mickey,” Mom said, looking at me. “I am not going to get into that.” She sat back in her chair. “Come here,” she said, reaching her hand out to me. I walked over and stood beside her desk. I let her hold my hand, even though I felt like I wasn’t going to like what was coming. “I know how you feel about Giancarlo. And he was—is—a wonderful stylist. One of the best I’ve ever had. He’s going to be fine—I promise. This is just business.”

  “Yeah, but maybe the whole thing was Ana’s fault. Maybe Giancarlo was right all along.”

  “Mickey, I would think Ana knows how to properly ask a stylist for what she wants—and Giancarlo should have been able to do that. I know clients sometimes ask for one thing and get something that they didn’t quite picture—we can’t read people’s minds. But this was entirely different. I think you know that.”