dos and Don'ts

by Taylor Morris

  “And apologize as a team,” Eve said. “I think that was a really nice gesture, Mickey. I just hope you can afford all the randoms who are going to write in saying they were victims of our blog. Business at Hello, Gorgeous! will go up, but you’ll go broke.”

  I’d thought of that as I had the video apology idea. As long as people knew it was an honest mistake, I was pretty sure people would forgive and move on and not want to take advantage of us—or me, specifically.

  “I have a feeling it’ll be okay,” I said. “But I’m not confident we’ll win that pizza party.”

  “Who cares about that,” Lizbeth said. “It was never a big incentive for me, anyway.”

  “Lizbeth, Antonio’s is your favorite pizza in the entire world,” Kristen reminded her.

  “Well, I can get it anytime,” she said.

  “How about tonight?” I said. “I’ll ask Dad if we can order it in.”

  “I’d definitely stay for that,” Eve said.

  After uploading the video to our blog as we ate thin-crust pepperoni pizza, we worked on some last but very important posts.

  At my computer, with a slice of pizza beside me, I pulled up our site. The swirls and colors and glitter were a bit much, I decided. I liked it, but if I were to do it again I’d tone it down. Still, I was proud of what we’d done—I think we all were.

  “So it’s sort of an ode to style,” I said of the new post we agreed to. “Right?”

  “Head-to-toe fashion,” Kristen said. “Just like you said last week.”

  “Okay, but I don’t want to step on Cara’s fashionable toes,” I said. I’d told the girls about my run-in with her earlier that evening. They were all glad to know it had just been a misunderstanding.

  We created a post that showed a model with her hair in a classic bandana headband, then included pictures of the types of clothes you could wear with that look. Our head-to-toe look, at last.

  “And one final thing,” I said. For all things style, I wrote, visit Fashion Fixin’s, the best on the web!

  “Perfect!” Lizbeth said.

  “I think we should be very proud of ourselves,” Kristen said. “We did it all together, even if we sort of lost our way there in the middle.”

  “We came together at the end and did the right thing,” Eve said. “That’s what matters.”

  I just hoped they were right.

  Later that night I had one final thing to do—call Kyle.

  “Hey,” he said when he answered. “I’m surprised you’re calling.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because our projects are due tomorrow,” he said. “I figured you’d be working all night to get it done.”

  “It’s done,” I said.

  “But it’s only ten o’clock!” he said. “Surely you can find fifty other things to add before school starts.”

  “Nope,” I said. “All done. No more craziness.”

  “You sure about that?” he asked.

  I laughed. “Well… no more craziness over this project.”

  “That’s good to know,” he said. “So what’s up?”

  “I wanted to ask you out,” I said, feeling my heart race. “On a date. Just the two of us.”

  “Really?” he said, and it was like I could hear the smile in his voice.

  “Yes, really,” I said. “Just us, playing video games—if you want.”

  “Of course I do.”

  “And no talk of blogs or school or salons or anything like that. I promise.”

  “Then what will we talk about?”

  “Ha-ha,” I said. “Very funny. So we’re on?”

  “Definitely,” he said. “Now get back to that blog and add those five things I know you want to add.”

  I smiled as I ended the call. He was right that I wanted to get back to my blog, but he was wrong about the rest. I was proud of the work we’d done. I just hoped the girls who suffered because of our advice would forgive us.

  Tomorrow we’d find out.

  CHAPTER 24

  I spent extra time the next morning getting dressed for our presentations, but I spent the most time getting my hair just right—definitely more time than usual.

  Downstairs at breakfast as Dad scrambled eggs he said, “Your mom comes home tonight. I’m sure she’ll be exhausted so I want to make it a quiet night, okay?”

  “Sure,” I said, sitting at the table. “Is it okay if after dinner I go play video games with Kyle?”

  “Sure,” he said, turning toward me with a pan of scrambled eggs. “I suppose—oh. Look at you.” He stared for a moment at my head. “That’s a new look.”

  “Do you like it?”

  He portioned out eggs onto my plate. “Very chic.”

  “Very weird,” is what Jonah said when he saw me. “I mean, I just don’t get it.”

  “It’s not for you to get,” I said as we left for school.

  “But I thought girls wanted to look good for us,” he said. “The guys.”

  “You are delusional in so many ways.”

  The truth was, I felt super self-conscious today and hoped all the anxiety and risks I was taking would pay off. There was no turning back now.

  I waited for the girls in front of the Little Theater for our final presentation. I carefully scratched the top of my head, trying to keep everything in place. I felt like everyone was looking at me and not in a good way. Finally, the girls arrived.

  “Did you see what Cara did?” Kristen asked.

  My stomach dropped. It wasn’t over and cleared up between me and Cara after all. She’d set me up and now I was the one who would look like a fool.

  “Why?” I said, my mouth suddenly dry. “What did she do?”

  “She put you on her blog,” Eve said. “Under Today’s Style.”

  All three of my friends stood grinning at me.

  “She did?” I asked. “She never took my picture.”

  “She e-mailed us and asked for one,” Lizbeth said. “She said you always look so great no matter what you’re wearing, so she knew we’d have something cute to share with her. You can go look after the presentations. It’s really cute.”

  “Wow,” I said. “Did she say anything about us putting her on our site?” I wondered if she had done that because of what I did—a good deed for a good deed.

  “No,” Eve said. “We had to tell her—she had no idea.”

  “So she just did it on her own?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Lizbeth said. “She’s really sweet. And I’m sorry, but I love her site. It was really cute.”

  “I know,” I said. “I always thought so but was too jealous to admit it. Don’t get me wrong,” I said, quickly looking to Eve. “I love our site. I just like hers, too.”

  Eve smiled. “It’s fine. Everyone liked Cara’s site.”

  “You ready to go in?” Kristen asked, glancing up at my head.

  “I’m ready,” I said.

  Before we could go inside, though, Cara caught up to us.

  “Hey, girls,” she said.

  “We’ll go inside and get seats,” Eve said.

  “Thanks,” I told them.

  “Wow, you look really good in that,” Cara said of the silk scarf I had wrapped around my head just the way she had recommended on the Fashion Fixin’s blog.

  “Really?” I said, touching the back of it. “Did I tie it right? I wasn’t sure, but it feels pretty secure.” I turned around to show her.

  “No, you’ve got it right. Here, let me just adjust it a bit, though, so the sides fold a little straighter.” In no time flat she had retied the scarf and it felt secure and downright comfortable on my head. I turned back to face her and she pulled a couple of tendrils out of the sides so they framed my face. “Very pretty.”

  “Thanks, Cara,” I said. “And thanks for putting me on Today’s Style. That was really cool of you.”

  “Thanks for what you said about my blog on your blog,” she said back.

  “Well,” I said, looking toward t
he doors of the Little Theater. “I guess we better do this.”

  “After you,” she said, holding the door for me.

  We began our presentation by telling the audience our favorite DIY trick or tip, how we came up with all our ideas, and even how we fixed our mistakes once we learned about them. Then Eve brought up the site on her computer and played the video we’d made.

  We got a huge round of applause at the end, especially from the girls. We came offstage knowing we’d all done the right thing, and more importantly, we’d worked it out together.

  After all the presentations as the entire class filed out of the auditorium, we had so many girls come up to us and tell us what a great job they thought we did. Even Kyle pulled me aside to tell me so.

  “But those gift certificates you’re giving out,” he said. “Did your mom let you do that, or how did you arrange it?”

  “She still doesn’t know about it,” I said. “About any of it. She gets home tonight. But I bought them with my own money.”

  “Your money?” he asked. “The money you’re saving for your own salon?”

  “Well,” I said, “I figured I won’t have any future customers if I start off with bad customer service.”

  “Pretty smart,” he said. “But wait. You said your mom is coming home tonight, and she doesn’t know about any of this? Are you sure you want to go out? Because we can cancel our plans right now.”

  “No,” I said. “Our plans are on. Mom doesn’t know but it’s okay, anyway. It’ll be fine.”

  “You know, they have the Internet out of town, too,” he said. “Your mom might have seen what you posted, including the video.”

  “I’m sure she was too busy to look at my school project,” I said. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you there tonight at seven, okay?”

  “Okay,” he said. “But I’ll have my phone just in case.”

  CHAPTER 25

  When I got home from school, I found high heels kicked off by the door and an opened suitcase in the living room.

  “Mom!” I said, spotting her in the kitchen with Dad. I ran and gave her a hug.

  She squeezed me back and said, “You both survived without me.”

  “Barely,” I said, hugging her tight. When we let go I asked, “How’d it go?”

  “It was good,” she said. “I’m not sure if the TV thing is for me, but it was fun.”

  I sat on the stool at the island. “So did they do your hair or did you do it yourself?”

  She smiled. “They started it for me, and then I politely finished. Dad was just telling me you finished your big project today. How’d it go?”

  Clearly she was anxious to talk about it. I wondered how much she knew, if she’d been online and looked at our little updates, or if anyone at the salon told her about the gift certificates or if she saw my video apology. Frankly, I wondered how she’d feel about it all.

  “It was fine,” I said. “Ms. Carter said she was really happy with the way we did it. We didn’t just show all the great stuff we did, but we also showed the mistakes we made and how we fixed them.”

  “Very smart,” Mom said. Picking a piece of lint off the sleeve of her blouse, she said, “What sort of mistakes did you girls make?”

  I looked to Dad, who shrugged his shoulders like, Might as well go for it. So I did. “We gave some bad advice,” I said. “It was an accident, though.”

  “Bad advice?”

  I nodded. “Yes. But we updated the information and offered free gift certificates for a cut and style at Hello, Gorgeous!. I’m paying for it myself,” I added.

  “Wow,” she began. “I have to say that I’m very pleased at how you fixed all this. You’ve really learned your lesson and handled this in a very mature way. I might even say that you’re starting to get the hang of this business thing.”

  “Hey,” Dad said. “Maybe you should give her a promotion!”

  Mom smiled and said, “We’ll see about that.”

  We spent the entire dinner talking about what had happened while Mom filmed Cecilia’s Best Tressed, what she learned, and how much fun she had.

  “Stressful,” she said, “but fun. I admire Cecilia even more for all the work she does. I’m just not sure I’d want to do it.”

  I spilled everything to Mom about the weeks of running a blog and how hard it was.

  “Organization is key,” she agreed.

  Once Mom and I were fully caught up and I felt like I’d said all I could say in one evening about hair, I got my bag and got ready to leave.

  “You’re going out on my first night home?” Mom asked, but I knew she was just pretending to be hurt. She and Dad were already cuddling on the couch, ready to watch a movie.

  “We’ll see plenty of each other at the salon this weekend,” I said.

  “You bet we will.” She smiled.

  I raced out the door toward Warpath. This time I was the one waiting for Kyle when he showed up. He spread his arms out and said, “You’re not grounded? You’re not fired? You’re here?”

  “I’m here,” I said, taking his hand and pulling him inside. “And I’m ready to win.”

  Relive all the style, friendships, and glamour from the beginning in:

  Hello

  Gorgeous!

  Blowout

  BY TAYLOR MORRIS

  GROSSET & DUNLAP

  An Imprint of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  CHAPTER 1

  “Countdown to gorgeous!” cheered Megan as she passed me in the salon chair on her way to the back room. Megan, a college student with cascading blond hair and full, pink cheeks, was the receptionist at Hello, Gorgeous!, which happens to be my mom’s salon and one of my very favorite places to be in the entire world. It was Sunday—my thirteenth birthday—and the salon wasn’t open yet. Everyone was here special, just for me.

  For as long as I can remember, my birthday presents have centered around hair. It started with my Barbie Princess Styling Head when I was four. I thought it was the greatest present ever invented. From the moment I got Barbie’s head out of the box, I brushed, braided, curled, and clipped her hair within an inch of her princess-head life.

  For my tenth birthday, my parents kicked it up a notch when they surprised me with a smoky blue vanity desk with a three-way mirror. It came complete with matching containers filled with new brushes, combs, and clips. That’s when I started styling my own head within an inch of its frizz-filled life. Still haven’t had much luck there.

  Last year, for my twelfth birthday, I got an actual styling chair for my bedroom, which gave my room more of a beauty-zone feel. It doesn’t have the hydraulics to pump the seat up and down, but it’s exactly like something you’d see in a real salon: black with a silver footrest and everything. I tried getting my best friend/next-door neighbor, Jonah, to sit in it so I could tame his cowlick, but he said he’d rather jam bobby pins up his nose than play hair salon with me.

  But this year I finally received the best, most amazing birthday present ever. After a dinner at my favorite brick-oven pizza place last night with Mom and Dad, today I got my real birthday present—I became an official employee at Hello, Gorgeous!

  Well, part-time (Saturday, Sunday, and Wednesday after school) official employee, but still. Mom had finally, after years of my begging, pleading, and tantrum-throwing, agreed to let me work as a sweeper at her über-successful salon. She was even going to pay me, though I totally would have done it for free. Mom went on and on about how it was a trial run and if I slacked off at the salon—or at school (Rockford Middle School)—I’d have to go. Which was never going to happen. I’d been waiting too long to be a part of the salon team, and the last thing I wanted to do was disappoint my mom. I wanted her to be proud of me and see that I had style-sense in my genes, too.

  But my longing to work at Hello, Gorgeous! wasn’t only about hair. I secretly hoped that working at a salon would give me some of the spark that all the stylists there seemed to have. You know, that sass that enabled them to say what
ever was on their minds, in front of anyone, whenever it popped into their heads. I needed some of that. I’d been so painfully shy most of my life that I wouldn’t even play Telephone with the kids in first grade. But unless I wanted Jonah to be my only friend for the rest of my life, I had to come out of my turtlelike shell. It was a must.

  “How about some loose curls?” asked Violet. She was the store manager and most-talented stylist, and because of that she had the second-most prestigious station in the salon, second from the entrance, right beside my mother’s. Not only was it my first day, but I was also getting a mini makeover as part of my birthday present.

  When I came into Hello, Gorgeous! this morning with Mom, the salon had been dark and quiet until I flipped on the light in the break room, where practically half the staff jumped up and yelled “Surprise!” I nearly fainted, but when I saw the doughnuts they’d bought and the two signs they’d hung—HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MICKEY! and WELCOME, GORGEOUS!—I knew it was going to be the most epic day of my life so far.

  “My hair doesn’t do curls,” I said. It didn’t wave or fall straight, either. All it ever did was frizz like the coat on a frightened billy goat.

  “You don’t even know the miracles Violet works with hair,” Giancarlo said from the styling chair at his station, which was right next to Violet’s. He swiveled back and forth, waving his checked crinkle scarf as he turned. He still had his sunglasses on because, in his words, “I’m getting blinded by my own shirt.” The shirt in question was white silk with bright green, yellow, and pink swirls. “Just don’t let her bump the top.” A sly smile crept up on his round face. “Who wants to look like they’ve got a hamster hiding underneath their hair?”

  “Give me a break,” Violet said. She picked a round brush out of the drawer at her station and turned on the hair dryer to a low setting. Over the whizzing sound she said, “Just because I did it that one time!”

  “One time too many!” Giancarlo said.

  “Are you here to help?” Violet asked as she dried my hair one section at a time. “Or are you just going to make fun?”