“Let’s just all agree,” I said, “that once we start getting reader questions we’ll answer them quickly and efficiently, especially because we don’t have much time to make this thing a success. Okay?”
Everyone agreed, even Kristen—if her sliding her sunglasses back on her face and repositioning her body to get the most rays was an affirmative answer, that is.
When the bell rang we gathered our things to head off to our afternoon classes. Eve hung back with me so we could walk to English together.
“Great job on the meeting,” she told me as we walked through the hall. “You’re really organized and passionate about this. Not that I would expect you not to be but… way to take charge.”
I was a bit taken aback by the nice compliment, but I really appreciated it coming from her. She knew how much I cared about this kind of stuff. “Thanks. I’m just really excited about this project.”
“That’s one of the reasons we’re going to do so well on it, I think,” she said as we walked into Ms. Carlisle’s English classroom. “Being excited about a school project seems like half the battle.”
“I hope everyone else is excited, too,” I said. “I don’t want to push anything on you guys.”
“You’re not,” she reassured me. “Please, Mick. We’re not pushovers. You’ll know when someone doesn’t like a style or suggestion as clear as you knew I wasn’t digging the blue hair.” She smiled and I groaned. I was never going to live down accidentally dying her hair blue, even though it almost made her famous.
During class, I tried to concentrate on Ms. Carlisle’s grammar lesson, but my mind kept drifting to new blog possibilities. I pictured the bright colors and beautiful styles, all created by me. And my friends. Maybe we could have different sections for school looks and date looks and outrageous looks, sort of like designers had runway clothes and ready-to-wear. I quickly jotted this note down with the title: Ready to Hair. It could work.
“Mickey?” Ms. Carlisle said. I jerked my head up from my notebook. She pointed to the whiteboard, where she was giving a fascinating lesson in their/they’re/there. “Pay attention, please.”
I kept my eyes on Ms. Carlisle for the rest of class, but in my mind all I saw was the blog.
When I got home that night, I brainstormed names for our blog. I sat on the floor of my room with every style and fashion magazine spread around me like I’d done last night and marked the hairstyles I wanted to scan for the site.
My phone buzzed and I looked at a new text. It was from Kyle.
Who do you think was the bigger baddie: Magellan or Columbus? Working on history worksheet.
I put a yellow sticky at the top of a page that showed a female version of a pompadour. We might be able to do something punk for girls with short hair in long layers.
I picked up my phone and texted back.
Magellan, of course. Didn’t CC get lost, accidentally find America, then got all the NAs sick?
I found some big-hair looks in a makeup magazine that we might be able to pair with the pompadour—maybe we could do a whole section about trend-spotting? It was a possibility.
Kyle texted back.
True. Do you think someone should only get credit for good if they meant it?
That was actually an interesting question. Seemed like good ol’ Kyle was a thinker. I liked that.
Maybe. I wonder what people used as shampoo back then.
A section on the history of hair care could be cool. I wondered if we could somehow make a collage of images on this section showing styles through time. And then you could click on each image to make it bigger… and then maybe have a few suggestions on how to wear an updated version of the style.
I had so many ideas already that I knew I was going to need a little extra help with the logistics of the site. I made a note to talk to Eve about it. Then we’d need help spreading the word about our blog outside of school. That’s what would really set our project apart from everyone else’s. I knew we’d said Kristen would do the marketing and promotion, but I was starting to realize just how important a job it was.
Another text came in from Kyle.
You’re the biggest baddie of them all.
I smiled. I started to text back when I heard the garage door shut, which meant Mom was home. I was desperate to finally tell her about this amazing school project that I was destined to get an A++ on. And if I could convince her to link to our blog from the Hello, Gorgeous! site, we’d be guaranteed to get major traffic. I shoved the pile of magazines aside and went to talk to her, businesswoman to businesswoman.
CHAPTER 6
“Mom, we need to talk,” I said as she walked through the side door from the garage into the kitchen.
She pulled back, a bit surprised to see me lurking in the doorway. Ha! Just like she’d lurked on me with Kyle.
“About?” she asked, stamping a quick kiss on my cheek. For a moment it felt good to be the one telling her we needed to have a sit-down.
“It’s work related,” I said, following her through the kitchen.
“Can I at least put my bag down and take my shoes off?” she asked.
“Hey, girls!” Dad called, coming in through the same garage door. “I’ve got dinner!”
“I suppose,” I teased Mom, following her into the living room, where she set down her bag and slipped out of her heels. She sank into the couch and let out a deep sigh. I sat in the chair next to her. “You okay?”
“Hey,” Dad said, holding up three bags, a spicy aroma seeping into the air. He looked at Mom. “You okay?”
She nodded her head, her eyes closed. “Just a lot going on. But never too much for either of you. What’s for dinner? I’m starved.” She pushed herself off the couch and followed me and Dad into the kitchen.
At the kitchen island, Dad unpacked the bags, including paper plates and plastic forks and the Indian takeout he’d picked up.
As Mom filled up her plate with spicy chicken vindaloo, she said, “What’s on your mind, sweetie?”
Seeing how tired and stressed she looked, I felt sort of bad. She had so much going on with all her new gigs and getting ready to leave for a couple days that I didn’t want to burden her, but I figured she’d want to know about the exciting project we were doing—and maybe offer some advice.
“It’s about my school project that I mentioned yesterday at the salon,” I said, tearing off a piece of naan and dipping it in the cool yogurt sauce.
“I barely remember this morning let alone yesterday,” she said. “Remind me?”
“We have to start a business online,” I said.
“Another career-oriented project?” Dad asked as he loaded up his plate with lamb curry before digging in. “What kind of pressure are they trying to put on you kids?”
Sure, when an adult wanted to stand up to the school about overworking us, it had to be about a project I actually wanted to do.
“I know, but this one is pretty good,” I said. “We get to work in teams and are allowed to do something similar to our Career Exploration project. Which I am. The girls and I are starting a hair blog.”
“Mickey, that’s fantastic,” said Dad. Mom held her fork loosely in her hand, hovering over her plate of steaming vindaloo, eyes glazed over.
“Mom?”
“I’m just wondering if I can shorten my trip by a day,” she said.
“Chloe,” Dad said.
Her eyes refocused. “Yes?”
“Mickey was talking about her new school project,” he said.
She looked at me, her piercing green eyes framed by creamy skin and dark hair. “I’m sorry, honey. What were you saying?”
“It’s a hair thing,” I said. “The project I’m doing with the girls.”
“Project?”
“The hair blog, Mom,” I told her, getting frustrated. “I’m trying to tell you about it.”
“I’m sorry, honey,” she said. “I’m listening.”
“We’re still working on a name for it si
nce we know how important that is for our image and brand recognition.”
“Smart,” she said and nodded.
“And I have this,” I said, jumping up from the island. I ran into the living room to grab my idea binder and raced back to the kitchen. I opened it up and showed her some other blogs that I liked. “These are just some ideas and inspirations I found.”
She pulled the binder closer and carefully flipped through the pages. “Huh,” she said. “Very interesting.”
Encouraged, I went through each section, showing her my ideas and how we were planning to execute it all. I told her how we were going to get questions from girls at school and then try to come up with our own easy-to-do solutions.
“Right now I think we’ll just be kind of a do-it-yourself and Q-and-A type of site,” I said.
“Mickey, I have to say,” Mom began. “This all looks really great. I know it’s a group project, but I have a feeling it was your idea.”
“Everyone agreed on it,” I said. “But yeah, it was sort of my idea.”
“Well, I think it’s wonderful. But I want you to clear all the advice you’re giving through Violet or one of the other stylists before you post anything, okay? Promise me you’ll do that?”
“Of course,” I said. “I’d be happy for help from an expert.”
“But don’t burden them with this, either,” she said. “This is your project, not theirs.”
“I know, Mom. I promise.”
She reached across the island and squeezed my hand. “My little budding stylist.”
Inside, I screamed. I knew this was an amazing idea and now that Mom was on board, I was ready to roll.
CHAPTER 7
“Want a ride to class?” Kyle asked as he came up behind me.
I turned and smiled. “Why, yes. I would,” I said.
He’d caught up with me just inside school as I headed to my locker before first period. He turned around and hunched over and I hopped up on his back. Then he grabbed my legs right under the knee, and we started down the hall, weaving around the other students.
I let my arms dangle around Kyle’s neck. I hoped he didn’t think I was too heavy, but his pace didn’t seem to slow so I tried not to worry about it. My face was near his ear and I could smell his just-showered boy smell. A little like musk and fresh air. I wondered if he could feel my microscopic boobs on his back. I started to panic and leaned off his back so he wouldn’t feel them, but that threw our balance off and my feet went flying out in front of him.
“Whoa,” he said, holding my legs down to balance me. “Lean forward or else we’re both going down.”
“Okay. Sorry,” I said, leaning forward again but trying not to press too close. He probably didn’t even notice. I decided to go with it. Besides, I liked being close to him, my lips almost brushing his ear. Everyone looked at us as we passed, and I felt proud.
“Jonah told me on the walk this morning that you two are pairing up for the online project,” I said to him as we turned a busy corner. “He didn’t say what you’re doing, though.”
“That’s because it’s top secret,” Kyle said. He wove his way around students and I wondered if I should get down before I kicked someone by accident. As if reading my thoughts, he held me tighter. Or maybe I was just getting heavy.
“I can walk,” I offered.
“Naw,” he said. “You weigh nothing.”
Except I could see how red his neck and ears were starting to turn, and I didn’t think it was because of my charming self.
“Is your project really top secret?” I asked. I did like the feel of the backs of my knees resting on his forearms as he held me steady. “Or do you just not know what you’re going to do yet?”
He laughed. “We have an idea but we’re waiting for homeroom to really hammer it out.”
“But it’s supposed to be hammered out already,” I reminded him.
“What’s the name of your project, by the way? I know you’re doing the hair thing.”
“We haven’t chosen a name yet,” I said. “But we’re swapping ideas in homeroom.”
“Uh-huh,” he said. I could hear the smile in his voice. “Just like me and Jonah.”
“Not even close.” I tightened my arm around his neck, sleeper-hold-style. “And watch what you say. I’m in control up here!”
I was the first one to homeroom. I grabbed one of the computers and pulled over three chairs for my friends. Other students started filing in, and I wondered what they were doing for their projects. Would we have a ton of competition for the pizza party?
“Hey, Mickey,” Cara Fredericks said as she dropped her oversized white leather bag on a chair in the row behind me. “You still working at your mom’s salon?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Two or three days a week. I haven’t seen your mom in there for a while.”
“She’s busy, I guess,” Cara said. “Maggie! Over here!”
Maggie waved back and moved around the desks toward Cara.
“Tell her to come back soon,” I said, thinking what a nice employee I was, reminding customers (their daughters, at least) that it was time for their six-week trim. “We’d love to see her again! There’s not always time for beauty treatments, but at Hello, Gorgeous! we make time.”
Cara kind of laughed and said, “Sure. I’ll let her know.”
“Hey!” Maggie said to Cara. She looked at me, smiled, and said hello before they both sat at their computer station. I overheard Maggie ask what we were talking about.
“Salon,” I heard Cara say. “I could never go to Hello, Gorgeous!. My mom said so after the last time she was there.”
My face heated up. Cara would never go to Hello, Gorgeous!? Her mom wouldn’t let her? I wondered what that was all about and if it had anything to do with the fact that Mrs. Fredericks hadn’t been to the salon in a while. Had she found a new salon? A new stylist? Violet had always done her hair and there had never been a problem as far as I knew. What could Cara possibly be talking about?
Before my head could explode, my friends arrived. I thought about telling them what I’d heard Cara say so we could analyze it together, but decided to drop it for now. We had work to do.
Soon the girls and I were all huddled around the computer looking at our list of possible names. Everyone had come up with a couple of ideas (well, Kristen only came up with one), and we decided that the title of our new online business should be Do It Yourself Do’s.
“We can call it DIY Do’s for short,” Eve said.
I clapped my hands. “We’re off! Let’s get this baby online.”
The whole room buzzed with creative energy; I could just feel it. People who had never considered themselves to be self-starters, doing something they liked—and possibly earning money for it—were hunched over computers and notebooks, plotting out the perfect strategy to give their idea its best chance at thriving.
“This is worse than being tortured,” Tobias said. He and Matthew sat two computers down from us.
All right. I suppose not everyone was excited about the project.
“What are they doing, anyway?” I asked Kristen, nodding toward the boys.
“Something with sports,” Kristen said. She rested her chin on her hand. “He can do anything. I swear.”
“I guess you two are having a good day, then?” Lizbeth said, rolling her eyes at me. “We better get going on this project. We only have a half hour of class left.”
“Good idea,” I said, laughing about Kristen and Tobias’s relationship ups and downs.
“I did some research last night on blog designs and I think I found one that’s perfect for us,” Eve said as she scooted closer to the computer, nudging me out of the way. I pushed back to give her space. “Wait, let me get us the e-mail address since we have a name now.”
Once the e-mail account was set up, Eve showed us the blog design she’d been working on. It was pink and black but with lots of bold fonts and swirly details, hand-drawn yellow flowers, and moving gli
tter falling down the side. We all instantly loved it. It was a site that demanded attention, just like the hairstyles we would feature!
As Eve set up the different sections of the site, Lizbeth scooted over to Cara and Maggie’s station to check out what they were doing.
“That’s so cute,” we heard Lizbeth say.
“Thanks,” Maggie said, furiously clicking the mouse while Cara watched.
“No, use this font,” Cara directed. “Much cleaner.”
“Hey, Micks,” Lizbeth called over to me as Eve created a section called ASK US. “Look at what they’re doing.”
I didn’t really want to see what anyone else was doing. We wouldn’t win by watching our competition! I was more concerned with getting our site up and fully running. But I leaned back in my chair and said, “Yeah?”
“Fashion!” Lizbeth said.
This made Eve and Kristen turn to look as well.
“Really?” Kristen said, actually getting up and going over to their station. I couldn’t help but think that that was more interest than she’d shown in our idea already. “Awesome! This is a great idea.”
Eve stayed in her seat next to me and we watched the others.
“Mickey, come look,” Kristen said. “Maybe we could all work together somehow.”
I immediately felt territorial. We didn’t need anyone else to be successful, did we? Everyone had hair and they wanted it to look amazing. But I forced myself to be rational—for once, I know—and realized that a fashion blog would actually be a great complement to our hair advice. Sort of a head-to-toe experience.
“Maybe we could link to each other’s blogs or something,” Cara suggested. “No reason why we can’t help each other out since what we’re doing is sort of similar. You guys are researching all your stuff, right? Not just getting it from Mickey’s mom’s salon?”
“Yeah, totally. That’s a great idea,” Lizbeth said. “Right, Mickey?”
“Yeah,” I said, wondering what she meant by “not just getting it” from Mom’s salon. “Totally.”
dos and Don'ts Page 4