8
I don’t think this is working,” Cassidy told the DG on Friday. Just like the previous week, they were meeting at Costello’s for coffee after school, although this time they were supposed to give their weekly progress reports. With only two weeks until homecoming, Cassidy was getting worried. So far this week had felt like a wash to her.
“How can you say that?” Bryn asked her. “I’ve made serious progress on my project.” She grinned at Abby. “This afternoon, Kent told me that he’s ‘always admired you.’”
“Admired me?” Abby’s dark eyes grew worried.
“Yeah. That’s what he said. What? Are you complaining?”
“No . . . I mean, that’s fine and good,” Abby conceded. “But does he think I’m hot?”
Bryn laughed. “Do you want me to ask him that?”
“No, of course not.” Abby firmly shook her head.
Bryn held up her phone. “I’m willing to call him and—”
“All right!” Devon pounded her fist on the table, causing Cassidy’s coffee to nearly topple. “Can this meeting come to order?”
“Bet you bring your gavel next time,” Abby teased Devon.
“Yeah.” Bryn frowned. “I thought we were supposed to have fun with this.”
“We are. But you guys are getting sidetracked.”
“I thought we were supposed to report,” Bryn defended herself. “That’s what I’m doing.”
“Yeah.” Devon held up her notebook. “But in an orderly fashion. And slow down so Cassidy can take notes.” She handed the notebook to Cassidy.
“Why do we need to take notes?” Cassidy dug out a pen from her bag, then flipped through the pages.
“This is a club, isn’t it?” Devon pointed out.
“I thought it was a game,” Bryn said.
“Whatever.” Devon shook her head. “Let’s all report. One at a time. Then we’ll make our next plan.”
“Okay, since I began, is it all right if I continue?” Cassidy asked.
“Yes.” Devon nodded eagerly. “Proceed.”
Some of them giggled, but Cassidy proceeded. She admitted that she’d gotten nowhere with Harris. Then she made note of it, using their secret names.
“But you’re supposed to be working on Harris for me,” Devon reminded her with a disappointed expression. “You promised.”
“I know that,” Cassidy told her. “I’m trying. But I’ve barely been able to have a conversation with him, and even then he acted like I was invisible, and—”
“See.” Bryn held up her forefinger with a smug look. “That’s exactly why you should’ve left Hunk to me.”
“Harris,” Devon checked her. “Code names are for texting, email, or when others might be listening. Remember?”
“Whatever.” Bryn pointed at Cassidy now. “Maybe the problem with you is your appearance, Cass.”
“What happened to that makeover you were supposed to give her?” Devon demanded.
“Scheduling difficulties,” Bryn explained. “First Abby and I were busy. Then on the one night we could do it, Cassidy bailed on us. Although we did give her some tips. She was supposed to work on some things.” She grimly shook her head. “Although that obviously hasn’t happened.”
Cassidy pressed her lips together, trying not to show how much this hurt. Sure, it was easy for Bryn—Miss Perfect—to pick on her looks. But did Cassidy have to take it?
“Cassidy is pretty enough,” Emma argued. “She just hides it too well. Kinda like I used to.”
“Precisely why she needs that makeover,” Bryn stated.
“But she keeps balking,” Abby told the others.
“Fine,” Cassidy snapped. “Give me a makeover. You’ve been yammering about it all week. Can I help it if the timing was wrong?”
Bryn leaned forward, offering a pretty smile. “We’ll do it this weekend, Cass. Abby and I already have some good ideas and—”
“Great.” Cassidy blinked to keep tears from coming. “I can hardly wait.” She tried to look like she was focused on the notebook, but she wished this meeting was over.
“It’ll be fun, Cass,” Emma said gently. “You’ll see. If it makes you feel any better, I felt just the same way. Now I couldn’t be happier for the way Devon and Bryn helped me. You’ll be glad too.”
Abby reached over and fingered Cassidy’s long, dark brown hair. “Nothing wrong with this. I mean, nothing a good trim and the right shampoo and conditioner can’t help. Believe me, with hair like mine, I understand the importance of good hair products. And then you need to learn how to blow dry it better—you know, to give it more body.”
“But your clothes.” Bryn shook her head. “Grunge went out when we were in preschool.”
“Thanks.” Cassidy tightened her grip on the pen. “What if I’m not into fashion?”
“We can see that,” Bryn told her. “I’m not saying you have to go out and buy a bunch of new clothes. I’m just saying we can do something more. Something to make you look like you care about yourself.” She laughed lightly. “Because if you don’t care for yourself, who will care about you? Certainly not Lane.”
“I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” Emma said carefully, “but she’s right. I haven’t been making any progress with Lane. He sees you as a nice girl. Not girlfriend material.”
“He actually said that?” Cassidy challenged. What about that time their eyes met? Had she imagined his interest?
“Not in those words. But I could tell that’s what he meant.”
Cassidy sighed. Emma was probably right. “What about the speech Mr. Worthington gave the guys? Maybe Lane just wants to honor that. Maybe Harris does too.”
“I got the inside scoop on that too,” Bryn told them. Suddenly the girls were all ears. “Kent told me.”
Abby frowned. “So you’ve got Kent confiding in you now? Don’t forget he’s mine, Bryn.”
“Hey, we were just talking as friends. Can I help it if he opened up?”
“Never mind,” Devon told them both. “Tell us what he said.”
“Well, it sounds like Emma’s theory is right. Mr. Worthington did give the guys a speech. It actually sounds kind of sweet. Worthington warns them that although a lot of girls make purity pledges, it’s up to guys to respect this.”
Cassidy felt a small surge of relief. “That’s pretty cool.”
“Yeah.” Bryn nodded. “Except for one thing.”
“What’s that?” Abby asked.
“The problem is that Worthington challenges the guys. He actually throws down a real gauntlet after his talk.”
“Huh?” Devon was confused. “He throws down a glove?”
“That’s what Lane said.” Bryn raised her hand to demonstrate. “He said Worthington smacks it down on the stage, and then he challenges them.”
“With what?”
“He challenges them to see how long they can abstain from girls and dating.”
“I knew it.” Emma nodded triumphantly.
“And they fall for it?” Devon looked stunned. “I mean, these are guys, right? Hot-blooded teenage guys.”
“It sounds like Worthington makes it seem like a sport, like only the toughest guys can win at this game. He’s like, ‘If you’re a real man, you can do this.’” Bryn laughed. “But according to Lane, it never lasts too long.”
“Will it last through homecoming?” Devon asked.
“I’m not sure.” Bryn’s mouth twisted to one side. “But I think if we want dates for that dance, we’re all going to have to turn up the heat. ASAP.”
“Good information gathering,” Devon told her.
“Maybe this is the writing on the wall,” Cassidy said in defeat. “I mean, do we really want to go against Worthington?”
The group got quiet now, like they were actually considering her words. Oddly enough, she hoped they didn’t agree with her. Despite her protests and hurt feelings, she was actually starting to long for a makeover. Who didn’t want a fresh start sometime
s?
“Don’t look at it like that,” Devon finally said. “After all, the school promotes homecoming and the dance. Surely they expect us to have dates, don’t they?”
“I remember hearing how a lot of kids went stag to the homecoming dance last year,” Emma told her. “Girls with girls. Guys with guys.”
“You’re kidding.” Devon grimaced.
“That’s true,” Bryn conceded.
Abby giggled. “Bryn and I went together last year.”
“I never knew why it was like that. But a lot of couples seemed to pair off at the dance,” Bryn explained. “Maybe that’s when the guys kissed Worthington’s challenge good-bye.”
Emma shrugged. “Worst case scenario, we could go in a group.”
“Like in middle school?” Bryn shook her head. “No way.”
“You got that right,” Devon declared. “We are so not going to the dance as a group.”
“Maybe we won’t be going at all.” Cassidy sighed.
“No. You’re wrong. We are all going to get dates.” Devon pointed at the notebook. “But we might need a better battle plan.”
“I’m in.” Bryn nodded firmly. “Even if this war is against General Worthington himself, I plan to fight it.”
Cassidy tried to feign enthusiasm as she made notes while the girls plotted and planned, strategizing ways to drop subtle hints through texting and Facebook throughout the weekend. The plan was that the intensity of the battle would heat up as the school week started. By midweek the hints would grow increasingly less subtle. The goal was to nail dates before the following weekend.
“That’s really cutting it close,” Devon declared.
“I’ll say.” Bryn frowned. “I wanted to go dress shopping this weekend.”
“So did I,” Abby told her.
“No reason we can’t shop for dresses,” Devon said as she reached for the notebook.
“But what if we don’t get asked?” Cassidy queried.
“We’ll get asked,” Devon assured her.
“We can always save our receipts,” Emma said quietly. “Just in case.”
“Well, that sounds overwhelmingly confident,” Bryn teased.
“Just being realistic.” Emma twisted her coffee cup in her hands. “Besides, some of us are on tighter budgets than others. No way am I wasting money on a dress, even an inexpensive one, that I’m not going to wear at least once.”
“I’m with you on that,” Cassidy told her.
“Are you two in the club or not?” Devon demanded.
Emma and Cassidy both nodded.
“Then let’s hear a little more optimism.”
“That’s right.” Bryn pointed at Cassidy now. “And I expect you to come to my house tomorrow afternoon for your makeover.”
“When are we going dress shopping?” Abby asked.
After a couple minutes of going over their schedules, it was finally agreed that Cassidy’s makeover would be switched to the morning, and the five girls would go dress shopping in the afternoon. But as Cassidy was going home, she still had her doubts. Yes, she would cooperate with the makeover. The more she thought about it, the more she felt her friends were probably right. But when it came to dress shopping, she would pace herself. It was fine if they wanted to make fools of themselves by purchasing formal dresses for a dance no one had invited them to. But she was not falling for it.
“Do you think it’s silly for me to get a makeover?” Cassidy asked her mom on Saturday morning.
Mom’s brows lifted. “A makeover?”
“Nothing major,” Cassidy said quickly. “I mean, I’m not cutting my hair or coloring it or anything drastic.”
“Oh, good.” Mom stroked Cassidy’s hair. “Your hair is gorgeous.”
“Yeah, my friends think it’s my best asset.”
Mom laughed. “Well, I think you have lots of assets.”
Cassidy frowned. “So maybe I don’t need a makeover?”
“You’re getting a makeover?” Callie asked as she came into the kitchen.
Cassidy shrugged. This wasn’t a topic she was eager to discuss in front of her pesky fourteen-year-old sister. After growing several inches and turning unexpectedly pretty (not that Cassidy planned to tell her, since her head was big enough), Callie had gotten obsessed with fashion.
“Well, if anyone could use a makeover, it would be you.”
“Thanks a lot.” Cassidy poured milk into her bowl of Cheerios.
“I’m not trying to offend you.” Callie filled a bowl with granola cereal, measuring it carefully with her eyes, as if she thought one extra teaspoon might result in a pound. Callie’s recent obsession with weight was ridiculous, bordering on scary. “Just being honest.”
Cassidy turned back to Mom. “What do you think? I mean, in a spiritual way. Do you think God wants us to be all focused on our outward appearances?”
Mom smiled. “I think God prefers we work on our interior selves. But I also think there’s nothing wrong with looking your best.” She glanced at Callie. “As long as you don’t take it to extremes.”
“How do you know if you’re taking it to extremes?” Cassidy asked. Mom wasn’t just a mom. She was also a Christian counselor, and sometimes she was smarter than the average mom. Not always. But for the most part Cassidy respected her. A lot of times she even listened to her. Sure, her friends would probably think that was weird, but it was what it was.
“You have to stop and think,” Mom said as she poured cream into her coffee. “Is your focus on appearances controlling you? Or are you controlling it? As soon as something—anything—starts pressing into your life and taking too much time and energy and ultimately controlling you . . . well, that’s when it’s time to stop and take stock.”
Cassidy thought about this as she munched.
“Well, Cass doesn’t need to worry about that,” Callie said a bit glibly. “She has never been overly focused on her appearance.”
“Unlike some people who will go unmentioned, Callie Marie.” Cassidy gave her sister a slightly accusing look.
The comment must’ve gone right over her head, because Callie simply smiled as she tossed her shiny chestnut hair (which was similar to Cassidy’s except that it was sleekly brushed and shimmered in the light). “Hey, I can’t help it that I’m just naturally pretty.”
“And not a bit conceited about it either,” Cassidy said.
Mom gave Cassidy a warning look but said nothing.
“Just being honest,” Cassidy mimicked her little sister as she rinsed her bowl in the sink.
“It’s okay,” Callie said lightly. “I’m used to girls being jealous.”
Cassidy rolled her eyes as she set the bowl in the dishwasher.
“I hope you’re more gracious to those girls than you are to your sister,” Mom said. “A kind and gentle heart is much more attractive than a pretty face, Callie.”
Callie gave Mom a look that said she’d heard that a million times before but didn’t really believe it.
“She’s fourteen,” Cassidy said to Mom. “She’ll grow out of this.”
Callie made a sneering look now.
“Ooh, now that’s really pretty,” Cassidy said as she reached for her bag.
“Yes, and you’re such an expert on pretty,” Callie shot back.
“Girls!” Mom’s voice had the edge of warning in it. She would tolerate only so much sibling bickering.
“I’ll be gone most of the day,” Cassidy told her.
“You did your chores?”
Cassidy nodded. “Callie still hasn’t cleaned our bathroom. It’s her turn today.”
“Tattletale,” Callie called out as Cassidy exited through the laundry room.
“Have fun,” Mom called out, almost as if she wanted to cancel out Callie’s bad manners.
“Thanks.” As Cassidy went out to her car, she wondered if doing this makeover really was a good idea. What if she ended up as superficial and shallow as her little sister? Although that seemed ridiculous.
It wasn’t like her friends could turn back the clock and turn her into a snotty fourteen-year-old. Even so, as she drove over to Bryn’s house, she promised herself that she would continue to focus on her inner self more than her outer self. No matter what her friends said or did.
9
Since Bryn had been only partially involved in Emma’s fabulous makeover last weekend, she was even more determined to play an important role in Cassidy’s. This was too much fun to miss out on. She’d known Cassidy for a few years now, and while she liked and respected her, she also knew that Cass could be pretty stubborn, not to mention negative sometimes. Cassidy liked to make fun of fashion and trends, acting like it was shallow for anyone to follow the fads. Maybe it was shallow, but Bryn liked it. She didn’t need Cass to lecture her on why it was stupid.
As she flipped through her latest issue of Teen Vogue magazine, Bryn reminded herself that everyone was different—and that was okay. Besides, she actually respected that Cass took her Christian beliefs seriously, even if Bryn didn’t. Oh, Bryn would go to church when her parents pressured her, but she didn’t really embrace faith. Not like Cass did. She didn’t quite get it either. What was the big deal? Even so, it was reassuring to know that Cass was like that—solid and dependable. Kind of like having an anchor. Except that an anchor dragged you down sometimes. Bryn tore out a couple pages of fashion dos and don’ts that she thought might be helpful for Cassidy. If she wouldn’t listen to Bryn, maybe she’d listen to the experts.
It really bugged Bryn that Cass didn’t seem to care about her appearance. Something was wrong with that. Even if Cassidy was just pretending not to care—although Bryn didn’t know how that was possible—it was still pretty strange. What girl didn’t want to look good? But sometimes Cassidy would come to school wearing the exact same outfit that she’d worn just a few days before. Was she that oblivious? Anyway, as far as Bryn was concerned, a makeover was long overdue. It would probably be therapeutic.
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