“Promise you won’t get mad?”
“What did you do?” Chelsea paused from unlocking the front door.
“I called and told the registrar that you had AIDS.”
“AIDS?”
“She promised to keep it hush-hush.”
“AIDS?”
“Actually, I said HIV. I said it was the result of a blood transfusion during your appendectomy.”
“My appendectomy?” Chelsea suppressed the urge to scream as she went into the living room and dumped her bags.
“When you were six,” Janelle explained like she was reading a medical report, “your appendix nearly burst. They got it out just in time, but because you were in a third-world country, the blood was infected with—”
“Third-world country?” Chelsea stared at Janelle.
“Uganda. Your parents were missionaries. They had to come home due to your health issues.”
“You should start writing novels.”
“Anyway, I told the registrar that you were very self-conscious about the whole thing, and it was hard enough to get you to come to camp without you feeling like everyone knows this about you.”
“Right.” Chelsea sank down on the sofa and just shook her head. “I leave you alone for a few days, and this is what happens.”
“Hey, it’s not easy to get a room to ourselves.”
“Janelle . . .” Chelsea sighed. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”
“It’s a great idea. And it’s going to be my research project—I’m going to use it for my psychology class. Also, I plan to keep those appointments at the places Kate called for me. I’m actually starting to look forward to this.”
“Really? You mean the makeover part or camp?”
“Both.”
Chelsea didn’t know what to say. On the flight home, she’d decided to pull the plug on this plan, but seeing Janelle so gung ho made it difficult. “Well, I need to do some laundry.” She stood and picked up her bags. “And I’ve got homework to do.”
“I emailed you some homework too.” Janelle stood and smiled. “I’m glad you’re home, Chelsea. I missed you.”
Chelsea hugged her. “Thanks. I missed you too.”
Janelle went back to her house, and Chelsea got her first load of laundry going and started to work on her homework. Her plan now was to put fall camp out of her mind. After all, she had all week to figure that one out. But homework was due tomorrow. First things first.
To Chelsea’s disappointment, Dayton apologized to her on Monday. Taking her aside in the cafeteria, he told her he was sincerely sorry. “I don’t know what came over me,” he finally said. “I think I was just all worked up over the game and homecoming and stuff.”
“Dayton,” she began carefully, “I accept your apology. But I have to stick to what I already told you. I only want to be friends.”
He frowned. “I blew it, didn’t I?”
“No.” She shook her head. “What you did last week didn’t change anything with me. It is what it is, Dayton. You’ve been a good friend, and I’d really like to keep it that way.”
Chelsea noticed a number of people watching them. Some furtively. Some, like Riley, were blatantly staring.
His face got stony, like he couldn’t believe she was turning him down again.
“Dayton?”
“What?”
“What happened between you and Riley?”
He shook his head. “I told you already. We broke up.”
“You said she broke up with you, right?”
“She did.”
“Why?”
“Huh?” He looked confused.
“Why did she break up with you? I mean, I see her watching you and me all the time. She’s not going with anyone else. I’m just curious . . . why did she break up with you when it seems like she still likes you?”
He shrugged. “What’s the difference?”
“I’m just curious.”
“Then maybe you should ask her.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.
She put a hand on his shoulder. “I do mean it though, Dayton. I would still like to be your friend. But I’ll understand if you don’t want that.”
Again he shook his head, then he turned and walked away. Suddenly she felt even more conspicuous. Standing there by herself, she wasn’t sure whether she should walk away too. Or maybe she should return to where Janelle and some of the others were sitting. Finally she decided to do something totally out of the blue. No one, not even Dayton, would expect her to do this.
She walked over to Riley. “Can we talk?” she asked.
Riley looked surprised, understandably. But she stood and followed Chelsea over to an empty table by the wall, where they both sat down. “I don’t know if you know it or not, but I’ve never really been dating Dayton. We’ve only been friends. That’s all.”
Riley’s expression was blank. “I don’t know why that should concern me one way or another.”
“I don’t know either.” Chelsea studied her closely. “Except that I always catch you watching me when I’m with Dayton, and you’ve seemed, uh, unhappy about it.”
Riley’s expression crumbled a bit, and she looked uneasy.
“I get the impression that you might still like him.”
“That’s totally ridiculous.”
“Really?”
Riley’s blue eyes flashed. “Did he tell you that?”
“No. Not at all. In fact, he wouldn’t even tell me why you guys broke up in the first place.”
“Maybe it’s none of your business.” Riley gave her a hard look, flipping her shiny blonde hair over her shoulder almost like a challenge.
“Maybe.” For a brief instant Chelsea felt in over her head. What was she doing sitting here talking about all this with someone like Riley? Just the same, she continued. “Do you want to know what I think?”
Riley gave a half shrug.
“Fine, I won’t bore you with it then.” Chelsea stood.
“Wait.” Riley looked at her with desperation. “Yes, I’d like to hear what you think. Please, sit down.”
Chelsea sat back down. “Okay.” She took a deep breath. “I think Dayton still likes you, Riley, and I think you still like him. But I think he hurt your feelings last year. I suspect he pressured you, just like he’s pressured me from time to time, and I think you’d had enough. Is that about right?”
Riley sighed, then nodded.
“Maybe you did the right thing too, I mean by breaking up.” Chelsea drummed her fingers on the table. “Dayton does need to be put in his place sometimes. He can be too pushy and demanding.”
“That’s for sure.”
“I’m not suggesting you give him a second chance . . .”
Riley locked eyes with her. “What then?”
Chelsea shrugged. “I’m not sure. I guess I’m saying I understand.”
Riley’s expression softened. “Thanks.”
“But if you do get back with him . . . stand your ground. Don’t let him push you around. Okay?”
Riley smiled. “Yeah. I get you.”
“Sorry to hear you lost homecoming queen last week.”
Riley’s mouth twisted slightly to one side. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
Feeling there was nothing left to say, Chelsea started to leave.
“Wait, Chelsea.”
She paused.
“Why did you bother to tell me any of that? I mean, you didn’t have to. I certainly haven’t been very nice to you.”
“I think it’s because on one level I do like Dayton. I think he could be an okay guy. But he needs to stop acting like a jerk.”
Riley laughed. “You got that right!”
Chelsea smiled. “I’m sure that you, like me, get tired of attracting guys who are jerks. I mean, who needs a jerk by her side?”
“For sure.” Riley lifted a hand to give her a high five.
Chelsea slapped her palm. “But maybe there’s hope for Dayton. Like maybe the right gir
l—a strong one who really cares about him—might be able to reform the poor guy.”
Riley nodded. “Dayton as a reformed jerk. I can imagine that.”
“You’d have your work cut out for you.”
“It might be worth one more shot.”
Chelsea shrugged. “So I guess that’s why I told you.” Chelsea saw that even more eyes were watching her now. Because she didn’t want to have to go back to her friends and explain the whole thing in detail, like they would want, she just wished Riley good luck and exited the cafeteria. Maybe she would keep them guessing.
For the rest of the week, Chelsea and Janelle practiced their characters every evening. Chelsea became Trina Johnson, a mousy, geeky, shy girl. Janelle turned herself into Brittany Woodard, a pretty, witty blonde whose family had recently relocated from Mobile, Alabama.
“I watch Sweet Home Alabama every night before I go to bed,” she confessed. “I actually woke up with a Southern drawl this morning, and I had to remember to switch back to my normal voice at school.”
Doing the Trina character was frighteningly easy for Chelsea. Other than a change in her voice, which she lowered to avoid being recognized, Trina’s demeanor and mannerisms were nearly identical to the old Chelsea. So much so that as Friday approached, Chelsea/Trina no longer felt guilty about the little experiment they were conducting. She was simply playing her previous self by another name.
Janelle had done a good job of developing her character too. Between her Southern drawl, which she had down pat, and her flamboyant gestures, she could pass as Reese Witherspoon’s little sister.
“Just be careful not to go too far with the Southern lingo,” Chelsea told her Thursday night. “You don’t want to come across as a cartoon character.”
“You think I look like a cartoon?” Janelle peered at herself in the mirror, patting her very realistic-looking wig—she’d spent hours working on that wig to get it just right. It was amazing how much it changed Janelle to go from brunette to blonde.
“You look fantastic,” Chelsea reassured her. “I was talking about how you sound. Don’t get too goofy or people will start to wonder. I really want to pull this off.”
“Wait until you see me in full costume.” Janelle practiced her strut, going back and forth from the kitchen to the great room in Chelsea’s house. It had been a challenge for her to get used to the platform boots she’d gotten for her role, but those boots combined with the straight-legged jeans really did make her look taller.
Chelsea pointed to Janelle’s fuller-than-usual chest. “I thought you were in full costume.”
Janelle laughed. “Well, as far as clothing goes. But I still have my appointment tomorrow, which reminds me—I told Mom that you and I were going to be in a camp skit and that we had to go in costume.”
“Huh?”
“You should be glad that I was partially telling the truth,” Janelle said. “I told her we were doing a role reversal skit to show kids how they sometimes treat people differently just because they look differently, and how that can be hurtful. My mom actually thought it was a cool idea. She promised not to tell anyone.”
“But what if someone sees her dropping us off at church? Won’t they recognize your car and your mom and figure it out?” Chelsea hadn’t really thought about all these details until now.
“My mom will be dropping us off at a different church—it’s a really big one in the city, the one I registered us with. I told Mom we need to go there so that our youth group wouldn’t catch on to our disguise and spill the beans.”
“Man, Janelle, with a mind like yours, I hope you never decide to go into a life of crime.”
Janelle laughed as she adjusted the belt she’d borrowed from Chelsea, which looked great on her jeans. “Don’t worry. I have no desire to spend time behind bars.”
“What do you think will happen if we get caught doing this?”
“Believe me, I’ve given that a lot of thought. And I decided we’ll simply tell the truth—because we are doing a social experiment. Really, why should anyone care? The worst they could do would be to send us home, and I kind of doubt that would happen. I mean, once they understood our reasoning.”
Chelsea nodded. “That’s true.”
“So don’t worry, okay?”
“Okay.”
Thanks to Janelle’s detail-oriented planning, everything went smoothly on Friday afternoon, and by six o’clock they were settled into their room at the coastal camp retreat.
“You look so hot,” Chelsea told Janelle as she watched her friend touching up her makeup. “No one will know who you are.”
Janelle frowned. “Meaning I was so not hot before?”
Chelsea chuckled. “Well, you gotta admit you didn’t look like this.”
Janelle smoothed her sleek blonde tresses. “I was actually considering changing my real hair color. What do you think?”
Chelsea grimaced. “I, uh, I don’t know. I mean, your natural hair color is nice.”
Janelle pouted. “But you changed yours.”
“That’s true, but my original hair color was really mousy.” She pointed to her wig. “Even worse than this.”
“Worse than that?” Janelle looked surprised. “Wow, I can see why you changed it.” She smiled. “Don’t you love how geeky those glasses make you look?”
“I thought they made me look smarter.”
“In a geeky sort of way. I’m glad we didn’t go with the more stylish frames. You might’ve actually looked good.” She reached for a tube of beige waterproof makeup. “Try this to tone down your lips some more.” She frowned. “You really have a nice mouth, Chelsea. It’s hard to make it look bad.”
“Thanks. But the name is Trina, remember.”
“Oh, yeah. In fact, that gives me an idea, Trina.”
“What’s that?” Chelsea smudged her lips, making them look pathetically pale, about the same color as her pasty face, and almost sickly.
“Let’s try to stay in character even when we’re alone, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Ready to rock and roll?” Janelle/Brittany was strutting across the room like a rock star, and looking so hot that Chelsea/Trina felt more than a little jealous.
“I . . . uh . . . I guess so.” Already Chelsea/Trina felt so insecure that she wondered if she had actually unraveled all the self-confidence she’d worked so hard to create for herself over the summer.
As they walked to the dining hall, Chelsea knew they made an unlikely pair, but probably not that much different than they were in their previous personas—just reversed. Except the height difference between them was decreased thanks to Chelsea’s flat shoes and flat hair, which made her seem shorter than usual, and Janelle’s high heels and fluffy hair, which added to her height.
Already a lot of teens were milling about the dining hall, small clusters and cliques from various youth groups, casting furtive glances at whoever walked in. As planned, Janelle took the lead, cheerfully introducing herself to a couple of guys standing by the door. She told them she was a newcomer to the area, saying how her dad’s job was transferred from Mobile and they’d only been to church a couple of times.
“So I don’t know a living soul here, and I feel like a fish outta water.” She introduced her friend Trina. “I had to twist poor Trina’s arm half off to get her to come to this camp with me,” Janelle drawled, “so I do hope y’all will make her feel warm and welcome too.” When questioned about school, she told them that she and Trina attended a private school, using a phony name so no one could question it. Chelsea just nodded shyly, ducking her head from time to time and acting as awkward as she felt. It actually felt frighteningly natural. Spying Chase coming through the doorway, she gently elbowed Janelle.
“So tell me, does everyone already know everyone here?” She smiled prettily. “I mean, are y’all friends?”
“We know some of the kids here,” a guy named Kenneth told her. “But not everyone. We come from several different schools.�
� Already Kenneth seemed hooked by Janelle’s Southern charm. “But by Sunday we’ll know a lot more people. It’s pretty cool how that works.”
“How about those boys over there?” Janelle nodded to Chase and Nicholas. “Do they go to your school too?”
“No,” Kenneth told them. “But I know Nicholas from summer camp. He’s a really great guy. Hey, Nick!” He waved Nicholas over and introduced him to Brittany Woodard. Then he peered at Chelsea. “I’m sorry, I forgot your name.”
“It’s okay,” Chelsea mumbled. “Everyone does.”
“Her name is Trina Johnson,” Janelle announced, “and she’s just about the sweetest friend a girl could have.” She stuck her lower lip out in a pout as she linked her arm in Chelsea’s. “In fact, she’s the only friend I have. I just don’t understand the girls up here—they can be so mean.”
“Where are you from?” Chase asked Janelle.
“Mobile, Alabama,” she told him. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe I caught your name.”
Chase was introduced, and taking advantage of “Brittany’s” attention directed toward him, he peppered her with questions. Without missing a beat, she answered him with even more Southern wit and charm. Janelle really had it going on, and Chelsea could almost imagine those boys eating out of her hand. She was truly the belle of the ball.
Meanwhile, Chelsea/Trina wanted to blend into the woodwork as she folded her arms tightly across her front and stepped away from the throng of kids, mostly guys, who were flocking around Janelle. She wished she could make an adjustment to the straitjacket bra that Janelle had insisted she wear. More than that, she wished this weekend was over. Tugging on the cuff of her frumpy beige sweater, she wondered why she’d ever agreed to this crazy experiment. It wasn’t as if she needed to be reminded of what her former life was like.
Nicholas came over to stand with her. “So, Trina, have you ever been to a church camp before?”
Surprised at his attention, Chelsea looked directly at him, then down again as she shook her head. “No. This is all new to me.” That was true.
“And you go to private school with Brittany?”
“That’s right.” She looked back up at him, wondering if he suspected something, but his expression seemed genuine.
Jerk Magnet, The (Life at Kingston High Book #1) Page 15