“How about,” said Lizbeth, “if she maybe tries parting her bangs to the side?”
“Like, side-sweeping them,” I said.
“Exactly,” Lizbeth said.
“She can maybe use a clip to hold them back,” Eve said. “A really cute barrette. Lizbeth! Maybe you can suggest a DIY clip for her!”
“Brilliant!” Kristen said. “Way to go, guys!”
“This is really good,” I said, writing down all the info. “Lizbeth, do you have a DIY clip ready to go? Because I think we should answer and post this tonight.”
“No pressure,” Kristen said.
“I know it’s fast, but I agree with Mickey,” Eve said. “We have to get this going.”
I couldn’t help but be happy with Eve’s support. She knew how much I loved the salon, so she understood what this project meant to me.
“I do have a couple of things ready to go for barrettes,” Lizbeth said. “I worked on something today using buttons when I got home from ballet.”
“Perfect,” I said. “So how about I write up the question and our answer: Stop cutting and try side-sweeping the bangs with a clip if she wants. I’ll take it to Mom to check before she goes to bed and see what she thinks. Lizbeth, you’ll write up the step-by-step for the button barrette. Can you take a picture, too?”
“You got it,” she said.
“Awesome,” I said. We were off to a fantastic start!
We decided that once Mom approved our answer, Lizbeth would send her directions and picture to me and I would post everything to the blog.
After writing up the Q and A, I printed out the page and took it downstairs to Mom. She was on the couch, scribbling on a notepad, her feet in Dad’s lap while he watched the History Channel.
“Guess what?” I said. Mom and Dad turned to look at me. “We have our first question on the blog!”
“Already?” Mom asked.
“That’s great,” Dad said.
I handed the paper to Mom. “We want to get it going. Can you read this and tell me if our answer is okay?”
Mom took it from me and said, “I will, but don’t expect the stylists to drop everything the second you want them to.”
“I won’t,” I said, a little hurt. I knew she was just stressed about leaving but I didn’t think she had to keep warning me about everything every single second.
I stood there nervous as she read the answer, waiting to hear how she would react, if our answer was terrible or if she thought the whole thing was terrible all of a sudden—blog and all.
Finally, she looked up at me and said, “Nice work, honey.” She handed me back the paper.
“Thanks.” I smiled. That was easy! If the rest of the project went this smoothly, we’d be set—good grades, stylish advice, the best blog in school, and glorious winners of the pizza party!
“Like this kid would give bad advice?” Dad said.
Mom had already gone back to her notepad, but she had a smile on her face. I think I had pleasantly surprised her.
I dashed upstairs and got the answer ready to post.
As I waited for Lizbeth’s piece to come through, I took a moment to let it all sink in. DIY Do’s was on its way!
CHAPTER 10
The next morning I dumped the ideas binder back in my locker—just in case we needed it again, I thought it was best to keep it at school instead of home. I’d barely slept last night knowing the blog was really on its way. Who knew how far we could take it!
I finished up at my locker and headed to class. Just as I was envisioning life as a professional blogger—until I opened my own salon, that is—I turned a corner and crashed right into Cara Fredericks.
“Oh my gosh,” we both said at the same time.
Once I caught my breath, all I could think about was what I’d overheard her say yesterday and the fact that her mom hadn’t been into Hello, Gorgeous! in a while. Anyone running a fashion blog should definitely know that hair needs a touch-up every six weeks! I purposely stared her down and said, “You okay?”
“Yeah, fine,” she said, straightening her wide-pleated skirt. “Sorry.”
“Humph,” I replied, ready to turn.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” I said. If she expected an apology from me, she could keep holding her breath. I decided to jump right in and ask her about Hello, Gorgeous!. “How come I never see you at the salon? The other girls all go there.”
“It’ll be a long time before I go to Hello, Gorgeous!,” she said. “Like, forever.” She rolled her eyes.
I almost laughed. I had no idea she could be so rude. She was probably just jealous that everyone who had style went to the best salon in town. I mean, I didn’t want to be all snobby, but what was with her attitude?
“I guess I’ll see you around,” she said.
I watched her go and thought, What did I ever do to you?
“Have you spotted her yet?” Eve asked later that morning.
At first I thought she meant Cara, but then I realized she meant the bangs girl who had sent the question in to the blog.
“Not yet,” I said. “You’ve been looking out for her, too?”
“Of course,” Eve said. Her wispy blond hair was pulled back into a low side ponytail. “It’s our first question—I’m afraid someone’s going to show up with butchered bangs and tears streaming down her face.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I said. But I had an uneasy pit in my stomach, too, and not just from my run-in with Cara, which I planned to keep to myself for now. I was nervous because, just like choosing the right name, this was another make-it-or-break-it moment for us—our first test, and everyone was watching.
By the time we met for lunch, all four of us were scanning the heads of every girl in our class as if we were looking for America’s Most Wanted. Eve and I faced the door into the caf and inspected each person who walked through. Kristen and Lizbeth covered our backs where the lunch line was, watching to see if we’d missed anyone.
Kyle sat next to me and Jonah sat next to Eve.
“What are we looking at?” Kyle asked.
“Yeah,” Jonah said, looking between me and Eve. “You girls are never this quiet.”
Just then a girl walked in with a barrette near her temple—just like we’d suggested. “Ooh, is that—” I started. But as I looked closer she didn’t have bangs at all. False alarm.
“Hello?” From the corner of my eye I could see Jonah wave his hand in front of Eve’s face.
“Get your hand away from me,” she said, playfully shoving his arm back.
“What’s going on?” Jonah asked.
“Our blog,” I told him. “We officially launched DIY Do’s last night and got our first question. We’re looking for the girl we helped.”
“Uh-oh,” Jonah said, opening his bagged lunch. “Kyle, keep your eyes peeled for a girl with her hair on fire.”
“Very funny,” I said and rolled my eyes. In all honesty, I was getting more and more nervous as each girl who entered the cafeteria didn’t seem to be the one we’d helped. The thought that our advice had zero impact at all—that we wouldn’t even see the results—felt worse than having a negative impact. I mean, at least if a girl did come in with her hair on fire, it could mean that she tried to take our advice—she just did it very, very wrong.
“Oh my gosh,” Kristen said, looking behind us. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh…”
“What? What?” Eve and I said, turning behind us to scan the crowd.
“There,” Kristen said. “By the applesauce.”
We turned and looked. Julie Wasserman wore a button barrette—similar to what Lizbeth had posted last night—just above her temple where it held back her side-parted dark blond bangs. If we hadn’t been looking for it, we’d never have known her bangs were jacked.
“It looks so cute,” Eve said. “Nice job on the barrette, Lizbeth.”
“I can’t believe it,” Lizbeth said. “Someone actually took our advice!”
“You guys told some girl to wear a clip and that’s your blog?” Jonah said. “Way to coast to an easy A, ladies.”
“Jonah, would you stop talking about things you know nothing about?” I said. I couldn’t handle his smart mouth making light of something as big as this. Like Lizbeth said—someone actually took our advice. And she looked really cute!
Eve nudged Jonah and said, “Yeah, Jonah. Easy on the smack-talking.”
“This is too big,” Lizbeth said, digging in her bag and pulling out her phone. “I think we should take her picture and post that to the blog. You know, show DIY Do’s in action on real people.”
“Perfect idea,” Kristen said. “Come on, Lizbeth. I’ll talk, you snap.”
“Should we come with—?” I asked as they dashed off to catch Julie before she settled in for lunch. Eve shrugged and turned her attention back to her lunch and to Jonah.
“So, did you enjoy your stalking last night?” Kyle asked me.
I blushed. “It’s not stalking if I tell you about it.”
“I’m pretty sure any time you sit in a dark room and watch someone else’s house, it’s considered stalking. But don’t worry,” he said. “I’m very flattered. You’re my first stalker.”
“The first is always the most special,” I said. “How is your project going? Did you guys get it started?”
“Yeah, we took your advice and looked at some other skate sites. We’ve at least got a start now. Looks like your blog is already taking off, though.”
I looked behind us for Kristen and Lizbeth and saw Julie striking a pose as Lizbeth took her picture. “Yeah, I hope so.”
“Hey, we should do something this weekend,” Kyle said. “Maybe with those guys.” He motioned to Jonah and Eve. Even though we were all friends, we’d never really done the double-date thing. I was still getting used to having a boyfriend.
“We should,” I said as Kristen and Lizbeth made their way back to us with victorious expressions on their faces. “You got it?” I asked them as they sat back down.
“Look how cute,” Lizbeth said, turning the screen of her phone to show me.
Julie had posed pretending she was looking up at her own hair, and pointing to the clip. So cute!
“Can you upload it right now?” I asked.
“Totally,” Lizbeth said. “Eve, can you help me with the log-in?”
“Of course,” she said, taking the phone.
“And I was thinking,” Lizbeth said. “How about each day we scout for a girl at school whose hair looks really cute and we ask to take her picture and post it?”
“I love that idea,” I said. I had the best team ever!
“Oh, I know,” Eve said. “We can call it Do of the Day!”
“Love, love, love,” Kristen said. “We are so winning that pizza party.”
“And getting an A,” Eve said.
I smiled. With my friends beside me and all the ideas we had running through our heads, failure was simply not an option.
Later in the day, Lizbeth sent a text to all of us.
We got another one! It’s about thick hair. Should we answer together? Let’s meet right after school. Mick, to the salon? We can all work together on our sections.
We agreed to walk to the salon together after school to talk about answering the question and then ask Mom or one of the other stylists to check it. Despite what had happened with Cara that morning, I knew I needed to focus with my team on our project. Eve wanted to post an everyday style and Lizbeth wanted to brainstorm her next DIY accessory. Kristen said she’d help us all. She still didn’t exactly have her own section but as long as she was helping…
“Waiting for me?” Kyle asked as he leaped down the stairs toward me after school.
“Hey there,” I said. I checked my watch—I hoped the girls weren’t going to be much longer. Answers were already zipping through my mind and I didn’t want to forget any of them, especially before I’d heard the full question.
“Want to walk home together? That fresh market is open today and they have those killer chocolate chunk cookies.”
“Well…,” I said. I wanted to go with him—who could resist chocolate chunk cookies?—but I had to work on the project when the rest of the group was available.
“Come on, you know you can’t resist me or the cookies,” he teased.
“I can’t, I have to work on the project with the girls.”
“Can’t you meet them later?” he asked, his face falling.
“No, sorry,” I said. “We’re walking to the salon together as soon as they get out here.” I looked toward the door again, wondering where they were.
“Can I at least walk to the salon with you?”
“It’s a working walk,” I said, feeling bad because I did want to hang out with him. But I also really wanted to work on the site. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s cool,” he said. “I’ll just call you later.”
“I’ll call you,” I said. “As soon as I get home.” I didn’t know what we’d need to do for this question and to get the other sections up and running.
“Yeah, sure,” Kyle said. “Well, I guess I’ll just talk to you later.”
“Of course,” I said. I spotted the girls coming out of the school. “There they are. About time.”
“Bye,” he said.
“Hey! You guys ready?” I asked, walking toward them. “Bye, Kyle!” I called back to him.
“Let’s go,” Lizbeth said, and we started across the lawn.
“Wait, before we talk about the question,” Kristen said, “I got another Do of the Day. Tell me what you think.”
“You’re going to end up being our official photographer,” Eve said.
Kristen held out her phone. A girl’s picture appeared on the screen, her hair pulled back tight on the top and billowy and curly down the back.
“Love it,” Lizbeth said, clapping her hands.
“Me too,” I said. “I like the way it’s fluffy but not frizzy.”
“So you guys don’t mind if I make her our Do of the Day?”
“Let’s do it,” I said. “We can post the picture once we do the reader question. Which is…” I turned to Lizbeth.
“Okay, the question,” Lizbeth said, pulling it up on her phone. “‘I have really thick hair and it takes forever to dry. Are there any tricks to drying hair that don’t involve getting up at five in the morning?’ Well, this seems easy,” Lizbeth said. “Wash your hair at night. Problem solved.”
“This is too easy,” Kristen said. “Let’s get manicures to celebrate!”
“Wait, you guys,” I said, because it did seem too easy. “There has to be more to it than that. What if she’s already thought of washing the night before? Maybe she has something that she does in the evenings and gets home late and doesn’t have time to shower.”
“Mickey’s right,” Eve said. “Besides, showering at night wakes me up just when I want to relax and get ready for sleep.”
“Then I don’t know the answer,” Kristen said, and shrugged.
“Actually,” I said, thinking. “I think I read somewhere that it’s really better for your hair if you don’t wash it every night.”
“Okay, ew,” Kristen said. “That seems totally unsanitary.”
“And I’m not sure I want to give advice I’m not willing to take,” Lizbeth added.
“But I’m serious,” I said. “It’s, like, the only reason we wash our hair every day is because shampoo companies tell us to. The worst things that get in our hair each day are the products we put in it.”
“I think Mickey might be right,” Eve said. “Overwashing dries your hair out or something, right?”
“See?” I said to the girls.
“But we still have the issue of drying thick hair,” Lizbeth pointed out.
“True,” I said.
“Let’s just ask Giancarlo,” Eve suggested. Giancarlo was her stylist when she came in to the salon. “He’ll know.”
“My mom
said we could check our answers with them,” I said. “Not get them to answer the questions for us.”
We were nearing the salon, so we had to think of something.
“Maybe we can at least tell her to towel-dry her hair really well before blow-drying?” Kristen suggested.
“I think that’s a good start,” I said. Since no one else had any ideas—including me, the supposed expert—we decided to suggest that and hope Mom didn’t think we were being lazy.
When we entered the salon we got a cheery welcome from Megan as well as big waves and hellos from the other stylists.
“Look at this,” Giancarlo said, waving his scissors toward us. He’d ditched the glasses today and was wearing a chunky gold necklace over a paisley shirt and white pants. “It’s like a music video walked in the door with all these pretty girls.”
“Tell us more!” Kristen joked.
“I would but we have to go rinse,” he said, motioning to the client in his chair, whose hair was covered in foils.
Mom walked out from the back just then. When she spotted us, she gave us a distracted smile.
“What are all you girls doing here?” she said.
“Our blog is doing really well,” I said. “We got another question and wanted to check our answer. Can you do it?”
“I would but I’ve got a client. Maxine, if you’re ready?” she said to a woman in slim cream slacks in the waiting area. “You can ask Violet if she’s not too busy,” she said before ushering Maxine back to her station.
Violet was cutting at her station near the front, where she could hear our conversation with Mom.
“Come on over, girls,” she said with a friendly smile. The four of us walked over and gathered around. “Mickey told me about your project. What’s the question today?”
“It’s our second question,” I said proudly. “Mom helped with the first one last night. Lizbeth, want to read the new one to Violet?”
“Sure,” Lizbeth said. Violet listened carefully while still cutting as Lizbeth read the question. When she was done, we told Violet our idea of not shampooing every day—which Kristen made a gagging noise about—and then our second idea of towel-drying really well.
“What do you think?” I asked her, getting my notepad and pen out of my bag. “Are we way off base?”
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