by Karen Bass
“Don’t bite your lip,” Heather said. “Don’t lick, either. You want to stay glossy.”
“Yeah. Glossy.” Sid thought she looked like a china doll, which made her glassy, not glossy. No wonder boys sometimes thought girls were so breakable. Would this really help get her into the band? Sid hoped so; after all, the girls who hung out with tfd’s members dressed more or less like this.
“We should do her nails,” Heather’s friend Coral said.
“I can do that with her tomorrow. I didn’t want to overwhelm her.”
Sid cleared her throat. “I’m right here, you know. And I do have ears that work. I’m not a giant doll you’re playing dress-up with, even if I do look like one.”
“Don’t be silly, Sidney,” Heather said. “Let’s show Uncle James.”
“Sure. Give him heart palpitations to go with his ulcer.”
“Ulcer? Why does Uncle James have an ulcer?”
“I’m not sure he has one. He won’t go to the doctor. But since his promotion he works pretty much non-stop. Evenings, weekends. That mutual funds company is eating him from the inside out and all he does is pop antacid pills and keep working ...”
Heather nodded solemnly. “Dad’s kind of the same way.”
“Dentists don’t work evenings and weekends.”
“Sometimes, if a patient has an emergency. And he has a partner who totally stresses him out. Now, come on.” Heather grabbed Sid by the arm and dragged her down the hallway. She knocked on James’s office door before Sid could back away.
James called for them to come in. Heather opened the door and pushed Sid into the office. She stumbled forward two steps then stopped. James hadn’t looked up from his laptop. He held up a finger. “One sec, girls.” Ten seconds later he straightened and spun in his chair.
And stared.
For a long time.
Sid started to shift from foot to foot. Agonizing moments passed. “Say something, Dad.”
James stood up and walked forward, slowly, as if in a trance. “God, you’re beautiful, Sid. You look so much like your mother...” His voice choked off and he returned to just staring.
Like her mother? She heard the tension in James’s voice – the hurt. Her voice dropped to an uncertain whisper. “I’m sorry.”
James clasped her upper arms. “Don’t be sorry, Sid. I’m not sorry. Last night you went to bed a young girl. And now you walk into my office a young woman. The change...” He looked her up and down again. “I knew you’d do this to me some day. Grow up on me, I mean.”
He liked it. Sid worked a lump in her throat. Part of her wished he hadn’t.
“I knew you’d approve, Uncle James,” Heather said. Her smile was victorious, as if she really had enjoyed the challenge. “We should let your dad work and phone your buddy, Sidney.”
Sid nodded absently. She left the office in a bit of a daze, still not sure what to think about her dad’s response. She robotically phoned Taylor, and asked him to drop by. The girls sat in the living room. When Sid suggested that she could drum a bit, Heather almost gagged on her tongue in her hurry to prohibit drumming while Sid was dressed up. Sid thought “in costume” was a better description, but didn’t argue. She’d do what she wanted once Heather left.
Coral and Heather chatted. Sid paid no attention. She couldn’t get over her dad’s reaction. He liked it. More than liked. And Heather thought she looked good. Sid tapped a jittery rhythm on her thighs. She wasn’t sure what she thought. Mostly she was shocked. She had never imagined that someone who looked like that girl in the mirror could possibly live inside her.
Let the guys in the band be impressed.
The doorbell rang. Sid jumped up. Heather intercepted her and sent her back to the sofa, then invited Taylor in. He gave her a “what are you doing here?” kind of look. He’d met her a few times and shared Sid’s conviction that Heather was a snobbish, fashion-obsessed airhead.
Taylor scanned the room, his gaze taking in Sid and Coral in a single sweep before returning to Heather. “So where’s –”
He seemed to freeze, like a cartoon character that has run off a cliff and suddenly realizes he’s about to fall. Sid started across the room. The movement drew Taylor’s attention. He gaped. In her mind, Sid saw the cartoon character’s jaw drop to the floor and his eyes pop out of their sockets before a bungee cord snapped them back into place. Sid wanted to laugh, except there was something so not funny about the whole thing that she felt like she might start crying. But she never cried.
She whispered, “Hi, Tay.”
His silence muffled the whole room. With painfully slow steps he circled around Sid. His harsh breathing was like sandpaper in her ears. The smell of grease wafted from him and she knew he had been working on his motorcycle.
He came full circle and stopped an arm’s length away. He rubbed his nose, leaving a dark smudge in the crease of his nostril. “This isn’t a joke? You let her do this to you?”
Heather side-stepped so she stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Sid. “Of course she let me do this. She practically begged me to help her. Doesn’t she look fantastic?”
Taylor exhaled and pushed his fingers through his hair, leaving a few black streaks in the brown. “I don’t get it.” But his eyes said he got it, he just didn’t like it.
Sid couldn’t find her voice. This reaction – acting like she’d been turned into a cockroach – was not part of the plan. Why was Taylor doing this to her?
Heather reached out as if to support Sid – left hand on left shoulder and right hand on right shoulder. “It’s simple, Taylor. Sid is...the ugly duckling. You are a duck. She has, what’s the word?”
Coral spoke up. “Moulted.”
“Of course. Sid has moulted her ugly old feathers and stands before you, a swan. You are still a duck. You will always be a duck and so cannot possibly understand.”
Taylor exploded. “You’re so full of shit it’s coming out your mouth! Are you even listening to yourself? You’ve turned her into a freaking clone.” He spun, hit the wall, spun back to face Sid. “Is that what you want? To be another Heather? To walk like her and talk like her and dress like her? Is it?”
Sid swallowed, forcing a lump down her throat. The back of her eyes stung. “Don’t, Tay. You know I needed...a different image. I’m still me.”
“Are you really? You don’t look like Sid. There’s none of Sid’s give-as-good-as-she-gets attitude. You don’t even smell like Sid.” His fingers raked his hair again. “Shit.”
Sid couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Taylor this upset. He was Mr. Easy-Going. He was acting like a wounded dog, snapping and growling. Her legs shook as she took a step toward him.
Taylor pulled back. His hand waved erratically behind his back until it hit the doorknob. “I can’t believe you’d do this. It’s nuts. Phone me when you’re you again.” He gave Heather a scornful glance.
Then he was gone. The door’s slam echoed through the room, and through Sid’s chest.
10 | transition back to the groove
Sid sank to the floor, devastated that Taylor had blown her off. She had expected him to like her new look. He seemed to notice the girls at school who dressed like this. What was the difference? Why did he hate what she’d done? He knew why she was doing this. He knew how much getting into The Fourth Down meant to her.
Heather crouched beside her. “Ignore that idiot.”
“He’s my best friend,” Sid whispered. Her chest still ached from the way he had fled.
“Some best friend. A best friend would be happy for you.”
“I don’t know, Heather. I...maybe I should forget it.” Her best friend hated her new look. Sid watched her fingers drumming – no rhythm, just spastic little taps.
“No! He’s dead wrong, Sid. And I’ll prove it to you.” Sid
’s curiosity surfaced and she looked up, waiting for Heather to explain. “Come with us tonight.”
“Where?”
“Our guys are taking us to McGinty College to a concert featuring some local bands. It’s in their bar but they’re opening it to everyone because some of the band members are under age. No alcohol served, if Uncle James asks.”
Now that Heather mentioned it, Sid remembered seeing a poster at the music store. The concert was called “First Impressions” because for most of the bands it was their first time playing on an actual stage. Could be interesting, or very painful. She’d considered going when the posters first appeared and The Fourth Down was on the bill, but they’d withdrawn after their drummer died. That had snuffed her interest, especially since it was across town and she didn’t like asking James to drive her places where he’d have to wait too long. It was too far by bus. Taylor and his motorcycle came to mind. Not that his having wheels helped her any, not after his reaction a few moments ago.
Heather squeezed her arm. “You have to give this a chance. It’ll be fun.”
“Totally.” Coral said. Sid had forgotten Coral was there. She added, “My brother plays bass for one of the groups. That’s why we’re going. Heather said you drum. Are you in a band?”
I wish. Sid glanced down at her skirt and tried to tug it a little lower. Her legs were cold. “I used to jam with my brother’s band, but he’s gone to college so I’ve just been working at getting better. Taylor thought –”
Heather pulled Sid to her feet. “Forget Taylor. Tonight you are going to discover the difference it makes to walk into a room looking good.”
Was I so completely awful before? Sid didn’t say it aloud since she knew Heather would say yes. Maybe Taylor was being an idiot. Much as Sid hated to admit it, Heather was right: she needed to get out. She didn’t want to sit around all night, moping about Taylor’s outburst. Inhaling deeply, she nodded. Coral and Heather both clapped. Sid consoled herself that at least they hadn’t jumped up and down and squealed.
The beautification project had taken most of the day, so The Guys (Sid couldn’t recall their names) picked them up at Sid’s and they went for pizza. The Guys did a great job at making Sid feel like the odd one out. She could have been a piece of furniture.
By the time they reached the college, Sid was in a black mood. The darkened bar, the flashing lights, and the crowd all made it worse. The only thing good was the beat. Sid craned her neck to see over the crowd. The guitarists looked like high school students, so she assumed the drummer was, too. She (or he) was decent.
Someone stumbled into their group and wandered off without a word. His wake stunk of beer. Apparently the bar not serving booze only meant people brought their own. Someone else bumped into Sid from behind, reinforcing her dislike of crowds, and the jostling most of all. Mr. Brock would probably say she was “protective of her personal space.” Big time.
A guy with a goatee who looked like he had to be in college stopped by her and spoke. Sid glanced over her shoulder, assuming he had to be talking to someone behind her. Heather and her guy were swaying to the music – he was pressed up against her back with his arms around her waist. Her cousin grinned at her and yelled over the music, “Answer him.”
Sid mouthed, “Me?” Heather nodded. Sid eyed the guy. “Were you talking to me?”
He nodded. “Want to dance?”
Dance? In public? Someone – it had to be Heather – gave Sid a little shove. The guy with the goatee must have thought that meant she had accepted his invitation because he smiled, took her hand and walked toward the edge of the crowded dance floor. He released her hand and started dancing. Sid stood for a few seconds watching him with a surprised detachment. He was sort of cute, for an older guy. And he had asked her to dance.
She hadn’t danced in public since being forced to in gym class, but she knew how. She danced down in her drum pit sometimes. Alone. In the dark.
This is stupid, she thought. Except for Heather, I don’t even know anyone here. What do I care what they think about me? Sid started to dance, tentatively at first, but then the beat took over. Except for breaks when one band left the stage and another set up, she was on the dance floor for the rest of the night, her partners a blur of faces. When the headlining group came on stage and the drummer kicked in with a hard-driving rhythm that vibrated over her skin, Sid threw herself into the music. She didn’t care that she was in a crowd, didn’t care or even know who her dance partner was.
She danced like she was alone in the dark, the throb of the drumbeat seducing her to let loose. She didn’t even know how long she had been dancing when the music slowed to a sultry sway. She stopped in the middle of the dance floor and looked around, confused by the change in tempo, feeling like she’d been jolted out of a trance.
A guy with dark eyes and a five o’clock shadow stepped close, slid his arm around her waist and pulled her close. Sid stared, shocked by the intimacy of the touch. He smiled. “I like the way you dance. Are you good one-on-one, too?” He started to move his hips against hers in time to the music.
Sid twisted out of his reach. She trembled as she wended her way off the dance floor, looking for Heather and trying not to bump into any of the swaying couples. She found her cousin at a table by the bar, sitting on her guy’s lap.
“Not dancing the last dance?” Heather asked.
“I’m ready to go,” Sid replied. She picked up a half-full glass of cola. “This yours?” Heather nodded. Sid downed the drink. Heather’s guy pushed his glass toward her so she downed it. A coughing fit grabbed her and she leaned on the table until it passed. “What was in that?”
Heather giggled. “Just a little rum.”
“Funny.” Sid glared at Heather’s guy. “You aren’t driving, are you?”
“No. Dean is. Don’t worry, Miss Prude, he hasn’t been drinking.”
Another giggle burst out of Heather. “She wasn’t a prude on the dance floor.”
Sid rolled her eyes and sat to wait. The rum had burned going down; now a ripple of dizziness was coming up. Suddenly she felt like total crap: tired, sore, and thirsty enough to guzzle a fountain dry. She rested her forearms on the table and laid her head on them. What felt like seconds later, Heather was waking her up.
She dozed again on the drive home. In her room, she crashed on top of her covers without getting undressed.
The next morning she woke up feeling hung-over. Or at least she thought this might be what hung-over felt like. Swollen tongue, bleary eyes, aching feet. She wanted to go back to sleep but knew that Heather was coming over again.
Sid stripped to her underwear and snuggled in the thick blue terrycloth robe her dad had given her last Christmas. In the bathroom, she studied herself in her new lacey underwear, which wasn’t very comfortable to sleep in, then took off the bra and panties and studied herself again.
Not skinny, not fat. A bit of curve in the hips. Small breasts that looked bigger in the kind of bra Heather had made her buy. Sid struck a sexy pose – and started laughing. Her hair stuck out five different directions and the shadows under her eyes made her look more like a zombie than a Playboy bunny. She pointed at the mirror. “You will not be wearing those stupid bunny ears any time in this life, girl. Deal with it.”
If Mr. Are-You-Good-One-On-One could see her now, he’d realize she had only been disguised as a pretty girl last night. Not that she ever wanted him or any creepy guy to see her naked. Sid cranked on the shower as hot as she could stand it and let the heat cascade the soreness away.
After her shower she padded into the kitchen in her bathrobe. James looked up from his Sunday paper. “I’ve only had three cups today so don’t hassle me.” He squinted at the clock. “You do know it’s almost noon, right? Usually you’re dressed by now. Was it a good concert?”
Sid shrugged and sat down. “There was some
decent drumming.”
James smiled. “Nice to know my little girl hasn’t completely changed.”
“Yeah.” Sid rubbed her eyes and wondered if today would be a good day to start drinking coffee. The shower hadn’t done much to clear up the feeling of being hung-over. It was getting worse; a headache was starting. One shot of rum wouldn’t do that. She decided it was stress. “Dad, can I ask you something stupid?”
“Sure. I specialize in stupid.”
“Can a guy tell when a girl is wearing sexy underwear? Does she move a different way? Can he tell from the panty lines or the way a bra pushes up her...” Sid stopped. For some reasons, she couldn’t bring herself to say “boobs” to her dad. Not this morning.
James frowned into his empty coffee cup. “Ah, maybe this would be a good question for your Aunt Kathy.”
“She’s not a guy. How would she know?”
James flushed. “I’m not sure how to answer you, Sid. This is very...awkward.”
Sid sighed. Didn’t she know it? “Maybe I’ll ask Devin. Can I ask you something else?”
“Is it an easier question?”
“Probably not.” Sid got up and poured some orange juice. She popped half a bagel into the toaster and leaned against the counter. “Yesterday, when Taylor came over, he didn’t like my new look. Actually, he kind of freaked out.”
“And you want to know why?”
Sid nodded and drank half her juice. Her bagel popped so she got out the strawberry cream cheese and spread it on extra thick.
“I can’t answer that, either, Sid. It doesn’t sound like the way Taylor would typically react. Maybe you should ask him instead of trying to guess what he’s thinking.”