dos and Don'ts

by Taylor Morris

  I didn’t have time to respond, so I printed both my answer and Kristen’s and snatched them from the printer. I tucked the pages into my apron pocket along with my phone. Outside I helped Megan put away the chairs we’d set up as Violet held court answering questions and Mom bounced around talking to guests and saying hello to her next client.

  Once things had calmed down again and Mom was settled in her office, I stuck my head in to ask if she could look at our answers.

  “I wanted to get your opinion before you leave,” I told her.

  “Sure, honey,” she said. I could hear in her voice how tired she was. I could even see it in her eyes. “Let me finish up a couple of things and I’ll give them back to you.”

  “I mean, if you’re sure you have time,” I said, knowing how stressed she was. I stepped closer to her desk and said, “You know, personally, I think everything is going to be great. Everyone here at the salon is totally going to look after things while you’re gone, plus being on Cecilia’s show yet again is just going to make business even better. Don’t you think? I do.”

  Mom managed a genuine smile—rare these days—and said, “Thanks, Mickey. I know you’re right. You and Dad both. I’m trying to stay cool but it’s just a lot. It’s like the first time Dad and I left you with a babysitter to go out to dinner. I was a wreck.”

  “Really?” I said, picturing Mom with a little baby me.

  “Dad kept telling me to relax, that the sitter would call if there was the tiniest problem. Of course, everything was fine, he and I had a great time, and you went to bed without a fuss.”

  “See?” I said. “This’ll be just like this.”

  She looked at me for a moment, and as her eyes held my gaze, I knew she felt at least a tiny bit better. She held out her hand and said, “Let’s see what you did.”

  I handed her the pages and thought about which headband question I should give her: mine or Kristen’s. I only hesitated for a moment before handing over the one Kristen had answered, keeping mine to myself. She did do the work I’d asked her to do, so it was only fair.

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said, honestly hoping she didn’t take too long. I wanted to get our answers posted. Cara may think she knew all about trends, but keeping the customers happy was one trend that never went out of style. I wanted readers to know that they could count on DIY Do’s in any kind of hair emergency.

  I gave the salon another good sweep, then went to The Underground, where our other salon services like manis, pedis, facials, and massages were located, and helped clean up the manicure area, carrying out towels and sweeping around the chairs. My phone went off again and once again it was Kyle. At least he was a bright spot in my busy day.

  You know this band? I think you’d like them.

  He’d included a picture of the band: three guys and two girls standing on milk crates on a pier. I guessed he and Jonah were down the street at the used CD and bookstore. I wondered if he was thinking of buying it for me. No guy had ever bought me… well, anything before.

  Heard of them but never listened.

  His response came back immediately.

  Crime!

  I was about to ask what the penalty was but—

  “Mikaela Wilson!”

  Mom clomped down the stairs holding the rail with one hand, her other hand outstretched toward me even though she was ten feet away.

  “Hand it over,” she said.

  I could feel everyone’s eyes on me and a deep flush creeping up my neck and across my cheeks.

  “You’ve been messing around on that thing all day,” Mom said as I handed the phone over. “You can have it back after your shift.”

  It was totally like being in school and getting busted, except this was my mom, and we were at the salon—the one place I always wanted to make a good impression.

  “When you finish here, Megan could use some help straightening up the front,” she added, keeping a stern eye on me. “Oh, and here.” She handed me my paper with the blog questions. Softening her tone she said, “Nice job on these.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Even the dandruff one? I wasn’t sure about that.”

  “No, it’s exactly what I would have said.” She looked at me closely and said, “I think the headband question seemed a little lazy, though. See if you can give your readers a better solution.”

  “Okay, we’ll work on it,” I said, taking the pages back from her.

  “I’m starting to think you have a knack for this,” she said. “Now you need to work on keeping your focus.”

  I grinned, feeling so proud that I had done well, even though I’d just been busted.

  CHAPTER 14

  For the rest of the day I helped Mom in any way I could. It wasn’t just to make up for the fact that she busted me with my phone—I wanted her to know that she could count on me to be helpful while she was gone. I even stayed a little late just to show her how serious I was.

  Later, when things had calmed down, I approached Mom, who was working on a local newscaster’s hair, and asked if I could use her office one more time to preload our questions and answers to the blog.

  “You may,” she said. “But while you’re in there, will you organize the pile of invoices I have by date, please? Most recent on the bottom. And be quick with the blog—you’ve already had your break today.”

  “Sure,” I said, running back to her office.

  I loaded Kristen’s headband advice first, except I tweaked it with some of my suggestions so that it didn’t sound so lazy, like Mom had said. I kept the part about plastic headbands being the best to keep hair in place but that they were the kind that hurt the most, and I added that elastic bands are less likely to give you a headache even though they don’t hold as well.

  Just make sure you style your hair back with a bit of product to hold it in place. That way, you won’t have to rely so much on the headband keeping your style. Think of it as a backup!

  I’d have to remember to tell her later what I did so she wouldn’t be upset.

  I had to get back on the floor ASAP so I pulled up the dandruff and gum Q and As, preparing to load them so that one posted tomorrow morning and the other tomorrow afternoon. I copied the question from one window and pasted it in another. Then I copied the answer from a different window and pasted it back in the first. Meanwhile, I sorted through the pile of invoices, stacking the oldest on top and the most recent on the bottom. Basically I could cut and paste with my right hand while sorting papers with my left. I was a multitasking master!

  As I worked through the Web site with one eye on the invoices, I heard someone clear their throat. I looked up to see Mom standing in the doorway, her arms crossed. “Mickey, you have a phone call.”

  I stared back blankly before asking, “A phone call? You answered my cell phone?” I didn’t mean to sound rude, but it was my phone.

  “No, on the salon phone,” she said, her words clipped. No one ever got personal calls on the salon line—we weren’t allowed to unless it was some huge emergency. If checking my cell phone on the floor was bad, this was deadly. “Sounds like one of your friends. Better answer.” She nodded to the phone on her desk and waited as I picked it up.

  “Hello?” I said, trying to turn away from my mom’s burning eyes.

  “Where are you?”

  “Eve?”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice lowered and frankly sounding pretty frustrated. “We’re all here—why haven’t you left yet?”

  My mind raced, trying to focus.

  “We’re at the movie theater,” Eve stressed. “Hello? Me, Jonah, and Kyle. Are you coming?”

  “Oh my gosh, I totally forgot,” I said. Kyle had just mentioned it to me yesterday when he told me about his school project. How had I already forgotten?

  “The movie doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes. We’re getting seats now if you can make it,” Eve said.

  “Is Kyle mad?” I asked. Before she could answer, I said, “I’m on my way.”

 
“Mikaela,” Mom said once I hung up the phone. “What are you doing?”

  “Mom, I’m so sorry,” I said. I looked at the computer—I still needed to finish loading those answers and sorting the invoices and now Mom was staring me down. I’d promised I’d be good about working hard at the salon. I quickly chose the dates and times for the questions and DIY info to post. “I made plans with Eve, Jonah, and Kyle and forgot. They’re at the movies waiting for me. Is it okay if I go?”

  She looked at me for a moment before saying, “I guess it is past your normal quitting time. But no more personal calls at work or texting while you’re on the floor. Understand me?”

  “Yes, I promise,” I said.

  When she turned to go back to her client, I quickly posted the other answer to the blog. I closed it all out, ran to the back, got my stuff, and quickly left the salon—catching a final stern look from Mom on my way.

  I ran all the way to the movie theater. When I got there the previews were showing and it was dark. I found my friends a few rows back and squeezed past the other people to reach them, apologizing as I went. I plunked down next to Kyle, who smiled and offered me some popcorn.

  “Thought you’d stood me up,” he said.

  “Sorry,” I said. “Crazy day.”

  He smiled and whispered, “It’s okay.”

  As the movie began, I had a hard time concentrating. I wanted to check my phone for blog activity since posting our latest information and even thought about going out to the lobby to do it. During a lull in the movie—something about a prodigy race-car driver—I leaned over across Kyle and Jonah to get Eve’s attention.

  “Psst, Eve,” I said across the boys. “I got the site updated.”

  She turned her head toward me but not her eyes, which she kept on the screen. Kyle shifted in his seat.

  “Mom gave some good advice on the questions,” I said. “Kristen’s post needed a little touch-up, but I took care of it. I mean, it was really minor, the change.”

  She nodded quickly and mouthed, Okay.

  “Everything is done, though,” I said. “Did you get a chance to read it yet?”

  “Dude,” Jonah said at the same time someone in front of us shushed me. I sat back in my seat and tried to watch the movie. And tried to be as excited about it as Kyle was.

  CHAPTER 15

  Thank you for the awesome advice! I already tried the flip and it worked perfectly. Can’t wait to wear it to school next week. Thanks, DIY girls!

  That was the message I woke up to on Sunday morning from a reader who’d tried my ’60s hair flip. I sent this message to all the girls and invited them to the salon to talk about our progress reports, which were due tomorrow. Kristen and Lizbeth wrote right back to say they’d come; Eve said she was sorry but she had to go visit her grandmother. She texted:

  Just tell me what you need me to do, though.

  Our house was total chaos. Well, sort of controlled chaos. Mom worked on packing and checking off her lists one last time before she headed out the door to her Head Honchos gig.

  “Mickey, you’ll help keep an eye on things, right?” Mom said as she stuffed folders into her shiny black briefcase.

  “Of course,” I said, happy to be her go-to girl—and happy she wasn’t holding yesterday against me.

  “That includes looking after your dad,” she said, giving Dad a sly smile.

  “Hey, I can take care of myself,” Dad said. “I think.”

  “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll make sure he keeps up the gourmet meals while you’re gone.”

  “Perfect,” she said. “Well fed and out of trouble—that’s how I like my family. Now, as for the salon,” she said, checking her phone, “I’ll be checking in with Violet every day. Help out as much as you can—as long as it doesn’t interfere with your schoolwork.”

  The schoolwork statement of hers was totally routine at this point. I’d heard it a thousand times. It was strange, though, because for once I really was excited about a school project—and to keep up with said project, I had to get to the salon for my Sunday shift and start working again on DIY Do’s. When I got home from the movies last night there was a question about split ends that I knew how to answer and I could easily ask one of the stylists to check. Plus, in all honesty, I wanted to do some more investigating on Cara’s blog to see if she had done anything new since we’d posted a ton of new stuff.

  “Mom, you have nothing to worry about,” I said. She released a calming sigh, then opened her arms to me and I stepped in close for a hug.

  “I’m going to miss you, girl. I love you,” she said, kissing the top of my head and smoothing down my hair.

  I squeezed her back, taking in the scent of her just-washed hair. “I love you, too, Mom.”

  The vibe at the salon was a bit off with Mom gone. It felt lighter, but in a forbidden sort of way. Like the time Mom and Dad went to dinner and I stayed home alone and invited Jonah over to watch a scary movie, even though they told me I was allowed to invite him. It was weird because it was the first time they’d let me have someone over while they were out. It was like we were getting away with something we had permission to do—if that makes any sense.

  “Hey, Micks,” Giancarlo said when I came in. “Devon brought in donuts for everyone. The gourmet kind.”

  “Any banana pecan?” I asked, my stomach rumbling even though I had eaten breakfast at home.

  “I think someone already grabbed it—and hid it in your cubby.” He smiled.

  “Thanks, Giancarlo!” I said, dashing to the back. How could today not be awesome with a great start like that?

  After getting jacked on sugar, I flew into my work. Devon had a minor emergency with a woman who burned her hair with her curling iron and after that I helped Rowan convince a woman that getting her eyebrows waxed only hurt a little. (Apparently it hurt a lot.) Everyone was on their best behavior and worked hard despite the light feeling in the salon. I checked my phone once (having left it in my cubby to avoid temptation) and found a text from Kyle asking if I still had homework for the weekend. I didn’t even text back, knowing I should wait until my break. I even saw that we had more questions for the site, so while there was plenty of temptation, I stayed focused on my work. Mom would have been so proud if she’d been there to see me.

  “Mickey, could you spray this down for me?” Violet said, pointing to her station. She looked a bit sharper than normal in her cream pants with a perfect crease and pointy patent heels. I knew she took her role as salon manager even more seriously now that Mom was gone.

  “Sure, you got it,” I said, wiping down her chair with cleaner then making sure it was perfectly dry before her next client arrived.

  “How’s the blog going?” she asked.

  “Great,” I said, and realized it was the perfect opportunity to ask her about the split-ends question. She answered it easily, then said, “Make sure you archive everything by subject and style, too. But I’m sure you’re already doing that.”

  “Archive?” I asked.

  “Every time you create a new entry, make sure you tag it by category, like long hair, thick hair, retro style—whatever it is. Then, when a girl wants to see all the styles and tips for long hair, she just clicks on that word and they’ll all come up in the archives.”

  “Genius,” I said. I hadn’t even thought of that. I had to make sure the other girls were doing this as well. We had to organize from the beginning, even though we were halfway through the assignment. (Hey, I was thinking long-term.)

  I found myself bouncing lightly around the salon, happy to do any task without fear of Mom telling me I was spending too much time at Giancarlo’s station or at her computer in her office. I worked hard but still had time to enjoy myself.

  Early in the afternoon, Kristen and Lizbeth came by to talk about our progress reports for tomorrow. I asked Violet if it was okay if I took a short break and she waved me off, telling me it was fine.

  We went next door to CJ’s Patisserie—apparently the
banana pecan gourmet donut wasn’t enough for me—and once we’d ordered drinks and cookies, we settled in at a little round table by the window.

  “When did your mom leave?” Lizbeth asked.

  “This morning,” I said.

  “And how many times has she called the salon?” Kristen asked. “Seventeen?”

  “Actually, zero. She must be in a bad cell phone reception area,” I joked.

  “So what’d you do last night?” Lizbeth asked, stirring the whipped cream into her iced mocha.

  “Oh my gosh,” I said, remembering. “Almost blew it with Kyle. I totally forgot we had a date.”

  “Forgot you had a date?” Kristen asked before taking a bite of the giant chocolate chunk cookie we’d decided to share.

  “And that reminds me. I need to text him back.” I checked my pocket and that’s when I realized I’d left my phone in my cubby back at the salon. “Don’t let me forget,” I told them.

  “Hey,” Lizbeth said, resting her straw in her cup. “You okay? What’s going on?”

  “Yeah, Mickey,” Kristen agreed. “You’ve completely forgotten about your boyfriend since we all left school on Friday. What’s up?”

  “It’s not that I’ve forgotten about Kyle,” I said, feeling a little defensive. It’s not like I’d done it on purpose. “I just can’t stop thinking about our project.”

  “Oh man,” Kristen said, sitting back in her chair. “Something is truly, horribly wrong if you’re choosing schoolwork over a guy. I mean, even I’d rather go to yet another baseball game of Tobias’s than do any kind of homework. What gives?”

  “Would you guys relax?” I said. I wanted to change the subject because I was afraid they might be right. “Listen, Violet told me something brilliant and I can’t believe none of us thought about it—tags!”

  For a moment neither one of them said anything. They just looked at me like I was a little crazy. Then Lizbeth asked, “Like on clothes?”

  “No, I mean like grouping together all the subjects that we talk about on the blog, like all the thick-hair questions and all the short-hair questions. That way readers can find them all in one place.”