‘Syd?’ Dieter asks, still fighting a smile.
Syd sighs. ‘I think it’s all too complicated to bother.’
Syd, Kali, and I bolt for the exit the second Dieter brings the session to a close. We’re halfway down the stone steps in front of the church when three claps bring us to a halt.
‘Now we know why he has a room with two exits,’ Syd says.
‘It comes in handy to catch people running away from their responsibilities,’ Dieter says, strolling toward us.
‘Sorry about being late again, Dieter,’ I say. ‘We had a … friend that needed advice at the last minute. Supporting others helps us work out our problems, too.’
‘And we were only ten minutes late this time,’ Kali says.
‘Ten minutes today, fifteen last week, ten the week before. That time is mine,’ Dieter says. ‘Otherwise, I’m all for your supporting other people.’ He gives us the avatar stare until we squirm. ‘Once more, ladies, and I’ll be sharing my concerns with your parents.’
As Dieter goes back around the church, Simon and Evan come out the front door and join us.
‘You’re in trouble,’ Evan says. ‘Even I’m on time for group, and I have the worst attendance record at my school.’
He says that like it’s something to brag about. ‘Why do you care?’ I ask.
Simon answers. ‘With three of you missing, Detour has more time to stir up our brains, that’s why.’
‘If you had a brain, you’d remember a certain predicament we got you out of recently,’ Syd says.
‘That’s why I want to help you,’ Simon says, taking off his baseball cap and running his hand through his dark hair. ‘You’ve gotta understand how this whole thing works. Look at it from our parents’ perspective. They screwed up, and they know it. They feel so guilty about it that they spend their days looking for signs you’re about to crack. If you play your cards right, you can use this angst to your advantage. A day off school to chill? Sure. Some extra cash for a movie to cheer you up? No problem. There’s just one string attached: you have to show up for group. Because if you’re there, they think everything’s under control. Skip group and alarm bells ring. Bye-bye special privileges; hello surveillance.’
‘Right, man,’ Evan says, slinging an arm around Sydney’s shoulder. ‘You just have to show up.’ He pulls his arm back as Syd’s boot jams down on his sneaker. ‘Ow! What the hell?’
‘You ran the numbers,’ Syd says, walking away.
When we catch up with her, she explains that her foul mood has more to do with her dad than Evan. Mr Stark booked a ‘special dinner’ last night at their favorite restaurant. She hadn’t seen him for weeks, and when she arrived, he wasn’t alone.
‘Her name is Charlotte,’ Syd says. ‘She’s twenty-two and she’s moving into Dad’s condo on Saturday.’
‘Isn’t the condo a bit small for three?’ I ask.
‘You mean five,’ Syd says. ‘Charlotte has the biggest boob implants you’ve ever seen. Dad was relieved when I said I’d move to Mom’s full-time. Even though she wants her space, too.’
Syd soon shuts the conversation down by asking me about Riaz.
‘Nothing but a short e-mail talking about his trip to Houston,’ I say. ‘I don’t even need cookies to repel guys anymore.’
‘He’s interested,’ Kali insists, freshening her lip gloss. ‘Or he wouldn’t bother keeping in touch. I bet he calls tonight. If not, you could shoot him an e-mail, maybe drop a bigger hint.’
‘I don’t want to look desperate. What do you think, Syd?’
Syd shrugs. ‘I’d hate to see you get burnt again.’
Kali scowls at her. ‘Must you always look on the dark side? The guy’s probably shy and needs encouragement.’
‘Riaz is not shy,’ I tell her. ‘And if kissing him back wasn’t encouragement, I don’t know what is.’
‘You know what might help?’ Kali says, glancing at Syd in that way I’ve come to dread. ‘A makeover.’
‘I’m so sorry, Z,’ Syd says, looking horrified anew when I come into the trailer.
Kali and Syd took me to a salon yesterday after seeing Facebook photos of the slam on Drake’s ex-girlfriend. While Syd and Kali aren’t exactly generic, my hair stood out in the crowd of laughing bystanders, and I’m the only one of us who got tagged. Not that my presence implicates me in any way, but when it comes to revenge, we agreed it would be better all around if I could blend.
The salon mission didn’t go exactly as planned. I should have listened when the stylist explained that red hair strands have an odd shape that makes them resistant to dye. She warned me that she’d have to bleach out all the color, which would damage the texture, before applying a new one. But by this point I was committed, so I let her strip my hair and apply a nice, neutral butterscotch dye. It didn’t fully take. What I have now is a frizzy mop in a brassy color unknown to nature. As it turns out, there are worse things than red hair.
Kali shushes her. ‘It looks fine, Z, really. And the stylist is sure another visit this afternoon will put things right.’
‘You can show off your new look at the rink tonight,’ Syd says. ‘The Wheel Dolls are doing a charity match at the Millennium.’
Syd’s friend Rambo has a thing for Madison Manson, who skates with a local roller derby league. He’s asked us to find out where she hangs out off the rink so he can meet her and ask her out. Rambo didn’t have much cash, so we agreed to do the job in exchange for a fifty-dollar Gap gift card he got for his birthday.
Barter products account for about a third of our earnings, and since we haven’t gotten around to selling them, the trailer is filling up with swag, including movie coupons, an unopened box of perfume, a digital camera, three video games, an empty aquarium, a baseball glove, and an electronic reader.
‘I’m in,’ I say. ‘I’d like to see the match.’
I have zero interest in roller derby, but I’m supposed to have dinner at Mom’s, and I can’t face the family’s reaction to my hair until I’m sure it’s fixed.
‘I can’t make it,’ Kali says. ‘Notts County is doing that freebie at the Plaza.’
‘Business trumps hormones,’ Syd says.
‘This is business,’ Kali says. ‘I’m testing my matchmaking program on Owen Gaines and me.’
‘Nice try,’ Syd says. ‘I need you to do your thing on Madison. You know, where you talk so much they’ll say anything just to shut you up.’
‘Zahra can handle this one,’ Kali says.
‘The Plaza’s on the way to the Millennium,’ I say. ‘And free concerts never last long. So why don’t we all go there first, then hit the roller rink as the match ends?’
‘Fine, but if I’m making headway with Owen, you guys are on your own,’ Kali says.
‘Fine. And if Notts County sucks, you’re picking up after Banksy for a week,’ Syd says.
Owen Gaines is very cute, but he’s seven years older than we are. Kali probably doesn’t stand a chance.
After the concert, he and his bandmates set up a table to sell Notts County T-shirts, posters, and CDs. Girls gather like flies to honey.
‘How do I look?’ Kali asks, giving her hair a toss.
‘Like a desperate groupie,’ Syd answers.
‘You look nice,’ I say, glaring at Syd.
Kali applies a fresh coat of lip gloss. ‘I’m nervous,’ she says, sounding surprised. That rarely happens for her where guys are concerned. ‘I hope Owen remembers me from the all-ages gig. Do you think he will?’
Syd rolls her eyes. ‘As I recall, all he said was “Hey.”’
‘It was the way he said it,’ Kali says, grinning.
‘He might have noticed you dancing like a freak tonight,’ Syd says. Some of Kali’s friends from school are here, and they banded together in front of the stage, making so much noise, it would be hard not to notice.
‘Do you think?’ Kali asks hopefully.
‘Sure,’ I say. ‘What’s the plan? Are you buying a CD
or a poster?’
‘I don’t know,’ Kali says. ‘What do you think? A CD says I love his music, but a poster says he’s hot.’
‘I’d go for the T-shirt,’ Syd says. ‘Keeping him close to your boobs says it all.’
Kali’s brow furrows as she notices Owen talking to a pixieish girl with brown hair and a pretty face. ‘Who’s she?’
‘Not his sister, judging by the steamy eye contact,’ Syd says.
‘You’re not afraid of a little competition,’ I remind Kali.
‘Right,’ she says, throwing back her shoulders. ‘I can take that pixie.’
Syd and I stand a few feet back, watching as Kali moves in for the kill. In her black skinny jeans and lace-up boots, she’s all legs tonight. Walking straight up to Owen, she says, ‘Hey. Great gig.’
Owen barely glances at her as he says, ‘Thanks.’
Syd elbows me in the ribs. ‘Stee-rike one!’
‘We met in September at your all-ages show,’ Kali says, twisting a ringlet of hair around her finger.
‘Oh yeah?’ Owen’s eyes are still on the pixie.
‘I’m Kali.’
‘Hi, Kerry.’ It’s obvious he doesn’t remember meeting her.
‘Stee-rike two!’ Syd says.
But Kali isn’t out yet. ‘I liked your new version of Star Sleeper today,’ she says. ‘The transition to F minor in the last refrain gave the piece such a haunting quality.’
Owen’s eyes finally meet Kali’s. ‘That’s what I was going for. You’re a musician?’
Kali shrugs. ‘I dabble. I’ve been playing guitar and writing songs for years, but there are so many riffs I haven’t mastered.’
‘You’ll get there,’ Owen says, giving her his full attention. ‘You’re way ahead of where I was at your age. I didn’t pick up an instrument until eleventh grade.’
‘I’m almost in college,’ Kali says, smiling up at Owen.
Syd’s snort is loud enough for Owen to hear, and it’s my turn to elbow her in the ribs. ‘Shut up and let the maestro work.’
Playing with the chain around her neck, Kali says, ‘So when did you switch from piano to guitar?’
Owen puts his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and smiles. ‘Did I say that the instrument was a piano?’
Busted, Kali pretends to examine a CD. ‘I think I read that somewhere.’
‘Well, you read right.’ Owen lets her off the hook and continues to talk to her for a good ten minutes. Finally, Syd claps her hands three times to remind Kali we have other plans.
She rejoins us carrying a CD, a T-shirt, and a poster. ‘As predicted by my matchmaking program, Owen and I are destined for greatness. I got enough information in just ten minutes to confirm the key aspects of our compatibility.’
Syd laughs. ‘Now all you have to do is convince him.’
‘I will,’ Kali says. ‘Just give me time.’ She hands me the CD before squirming into the T-shirt. ‘Listen and love it,’ she says.
‘That poster is not going into the trailer,’ Syd warns.
‘You’re right,’ Kali says with a huge smile. ‘It’s going directly over my bed.’
The referee blows the whistle to signal the start of the final ‘jam.’ A pack of eight girls takes off around the rink. The four from the Wheel Dolls are wearing short, puffy pink skirts with poodles appliquéd on them – the kind you might see in a movie like Grease, only way shorter. The cap sleeves on their tight black shirts reveal a variety of colorful tattoos on bare arms. Fingerless gloves and bright pink neck scarves complete the outfit, along with knee and elbow pads and helmets.
The four girls from the Diner Dames are dressed like goth waitresses. Their formfitting powder-blue smocks are trimmed with white piping and lacy handkerchiefs, and blue garters hold up their seamed stockings. In contrast, their lips and nails are painted black, and there are black semicircles under their eyes.
This is a lot more interesting than I expected. It’s theater on wheels.
After twenty seconds, the ref blows the whistle again, and Madison Manson takes off, alongside a girl from the Dames. Running a few steps on the stoppers of their old-school roller skates, the two ‘jammers’ glide down the rink toward the rest of the pack. Each girl has two stars on her helmet.
‘Rambo says that’s so you can keep track of them,’ Syd says.
The reason for the title and the stars quickly becomes obvious. When the two girls reach the rest of the pack there’s a sudden blur of blue and pink. Madison tries to battle her way past the Dames’ blockers, who simultaneously try to stop her while helping their own jammer force her way through the Dolls. It’s a mass of thrashing limbs. Just when it seems that Madison will be the first to emerge from the battle, a Dame bodychecks her and sends Madison careening to the side of the rink.
Syd jumps to her feet and bellows, ‘Go, Madison!’ She’s as excited as Kali was during the Notts County concert.
Madison fights her way back into the scrum, but the Dames’ jammer is almost out of the pack. One of the Dolls checks the teammate in front of her, causing the girl to fall hard onto the rink and block the Dames’ jammer for a couple of seconds. That’s just enough time for Madison to squeeze past the last blocker and break free of the pack. Once clear, she drops her hands to her hips several times to signal the end of the bout.
After the ref blows the whistle, the tackled Dame struggles to her feet with the help of her teammates.
‘That was brutal,’ Kali says.
‘That was nasty,’ I say.
‘That was awesome,’ Syd says, grinning as she hops down the bleachers and heads toward the locker room.
‘She forgot Banksy,’ Kali says.
But a second later, Syd whistles and Banksy trots off after her.
By the time Kali and I make our way to the Dolls’ locker room, Syd is already chatting to Madison. Up close, Madison seems to be quite pretty, although she’s sort of a cross between Marilyn Monroe and Marilyn Manson. Her platinum hair, false eyelashes, and pink lipstick are offset by a row of eyebrow piercings and a Celtic cross tattooed on her neck.
‘That’s blood,’ Kali whispers, noticing the dried trickle under a gash on Madison’s right cheek.
‘It must be a badge of honor,’ I say. Most of the other girls in the room are bruised and bloodied, too.
We wait for Syd to call us over, but it never happens. She’s so engrossed in her conversation with Madison that she forgets all about us – and her purpose in coming.
Finally, we introduce ourselves, and Kali quickly steers the conversation in a more personal direction to get the information we need for Rambo.
‘So much for business trumping hormones,’ she says, as we drag Syd out of the Millennium. ‘Syd’s discovered love after Eric – roller derby.’
Chapter Fourteen
Mom drags the black kohl liner along her eyelid before sweeping gold shadow above it. She stares at me in the mirror, trying to make me spill my guts by arching a perfectly shaped brow.
I sit on the edge of the tub, watching her get ready to go out, as I have so many times before. Only this time my seat’s getting pretty hot. ‘What?’
‘You know what,’ Mom says. ‘You look ridiculous.’
Mom is about as pissed off as she gets – or at least shows – and she didn’t even see my hair at its worst. Another dose of light brown and some blond highlights have made it quite passable.
‘Dad didn’t think so,’ I say. All he said was that he preferred my hair its natural color, which used to be his natural color before the gray crept in. ‘My life’s changed a lot lately, and I didn’t have any choice about most of it. This is a change I wanted to make. Anyway, my friends like it.’
Mom pauses between coats of mascara. ‘I assume they pushed you to do it.’
That’s actually quite insulting. It suggests I don’t have a mind of my own. But picking a fight with Mom won’t get me anywhere. Everything is better with a little sugar.
‘You know I’ve
never liked my hair,’ I say. ‘This was my decision.’
Granted, I probably wouldn’t have made it without Syd and Kali pushing me. They’ve pushed me into a lot of things, and I’ve been better off for it every time. They push, but I make the final decision. Sometimes you need that to move ahead with your life – especially if you’re not a natural risk taker. I think I’ve always played it too safe. While it’s great to consult with fantasy cooks on my fantasy set, I’ve learnt now that it’s better to get out there and gain practical skills that will help me down the road.
Even René has noticed a change in me lately. After seeing my hair, he brought up the idea of my signing up for a course at a local pastry school again. He must think I have more confidence, which I’ll need if I take the course. Most of the students are experienced chefs, and it would take guts to match whisks with the big guys. I’ve saved enough money for it, but I don’t know where I’d find the time.
‘I’m not sure what to think these days, Zahra,’ Mom says. ‘You’ve changed since you started hanging out with this Syd and Kali.’
I prickle at her tone. ‘A month ago, you were happy I was making new friends.’
She remains silent and leans into the mirror to apply another coat of mascara, opening her eyes unnaturally wide.
I try not to ask, but the words come out anyway. ‘What changes are you talking about?’
‘The way you speak to your mother, for one,’ she says, sweeping blush across her cheeks. ‘And the way you change your plans on a dime. You used to be a homebody, and now you’re out all the time.’ She turns around and eyes my clothes. ‘Since when did you care about designer jeans?’
Since when does Mom know what designer jeans are?
‘I’m working more,’ I say, to explain both the time out and extra cash flow.
‘There’s more to it than that,’ Mom says.
‘True. You’re forgetting a key piece of the story,’ I say. ‘Group. If I’ve changed since you set Dieter loose on me, can you really complain?’
Love Inc. Page 19