How to Rock Braces and Glasses

by Meg Haston

  My stomach did a figure eight. I’d completely forgotten about Operation: SKS. Instantly, I felt humiliated and completely exposed. It was the same feeling I got after waking up from a nightmare where the curtain rose on Quinn and me on opening night. He was in costume. I was in nothing but underpants. Ella’s Sesame Street underpants.

  “Can’t we jutht go home?” I stole one more look at myself in the mirror and lunged for a tissue.

  “Nope.” Paige shook her head vehemently. Then she pulled a folded piece of paper from the pocket of her trench and shoved it in my face. “Review.”

  Operation: Saving Kacey Simon (aka SKS)

  PHASE ONE

  Location: Water Tower Place, North Michigan Avenue

  Time: 1600 hours

  Targets: Molly Knight, Liv Parrillo, & Nessa Beckett

  Sources: Facebook wall posts

  Goal: Intercept ex-BFFs during cast party outfit expedition. Obtain binding verbal agreement on Phase Two from temporary group leader Knight (Code Name: Pink Poseur).

  OBJECTIVES

  • Objective A: Look amazing. Makeup and hair at Sephora by political image strategist Greene (Code Name: Prezzy G).

  • Objective B: Appear cool, calm, and casual during “accidental run-in” with Pink Poseur. Try not to rip out her pink streak, trip her, or otherwise attract attention from mall security.

  • Objective C: Fake being fine with temporary cast change. Lull Pink Poseur into false sense of superiority using any means necessary (flattery, bribes, etc.). Smile. Try not to rip out her pink streak, trip her, or otherwise attract attention from mall security.

  • Objective D: AMBUSH PINK POSEUR.

  MATERIALS

  1. Map of Water Tower Place (enclosed) with likely hangouts for Pink Poseur and friends. According to confidential sources,* PP is searching for something “hard rock glam” to impress Z. Jarvis at cast party. Possible locations: Betsey Johnson, Bebe, Wet Seal, Forever 21. Stores to avoid: Chico’s, Eileen Fisher, Everything Alpaca.

  2. Blackmail materials if necessary, including embarrassing unretouched pics of PP after hair-scorching incident, “authentic” note from PP disclosing genetic predisposition to bacne, video footage of PP’s last skating competition, including slow-mo montage of falling scenes.

  3. Proof of believable, nonhumiliating mall errand (winter clothes shopping list, permission slip to visit Sephora for on-air touch-up materials and/or stage makeup).

  *Confidential sources = Pink Poseur’s Twitter page, last updated 12:34 P.M.

  “Paige. I don’t know if thith will work.” I stretched my lips tight over my braces. The odds here were not good. It was two against three. And Paige wasn’t exactly an expert on popularity, so really it was one-point-five against three.

  “Look at me.” Paige gripped both my arms like she was going to shake me. “It’s gonna work, as long as you believe it’s gonna work. What’s your motto?”

  I glanced around the store. “Fake it ’til I make it,” I mumbled.

  “Right.” Paige folded the plan and stuffed it back in her pocket. “Now let’s move. According to Molly’s last Twitter update, your friends will be here in…” She checked her watch. “T-minus three minutes.”

  “Ex-friendth,” I corrected her miserably.

  “Not for loooong!” Paige slipped her hand into mine and dragged me past the fake eyelash display and into the mall. My snow-caked sneakers squeaked against the shiny ivory floor.

  We rode the escalator down three floors to Betsey Johnson, the setting on my stomach switching from mix to blend to liquefy. By the time we got to the second floor, it had reached turbo-powered purée.

  The Betsey Johnson glass storefront displayed a row of mannequins flaunting silver-studded belts over loud, printed party dresses. At the entrance, two punk princess salesgirls hovered over a display of patent stilettos.

  “Instructions: Find at least three items Molly would die for,” Paige instructed, running her fingers over a row of jewel-encrusted handbags.

  I lifted a hot pink dress with a black mesh sash from the nearest rack while Paige grabbed a purple taffeta mini dotted with tiny black skulls. Perfect. Molly was drawn to skulls like a magnet to… um… my mouth.

  Once we were settled inside the biggest dressing room, there was nothing for me to do but wait. And try not to throw up. And breathe through my mouth to avoid the stench of patchouli-vanilla-hazelnut-sandalwood-cedar-mint perfume invading my personal space.

  “Come on, try on your outfit!” Paige whispered, doing a quick twirl in front of the mirror. She winked at her reflection, then plopped down on the leopard-print calf-hair chaise against the wall. “It’ll take your mind off things.” In her sensible mousy hair, glasses, and skull-dotted mini, she looked completely mismatched. Like someone put the head of Scientist Skipper on the body of Disco-Punk Barbie.

  “… asked him if he wanted to come with me to the cast party, and maybe play a few songs.” I heard Molly’s voice, then the shuffle of footsteps and the crinkle of shopping bags.

  “You actually said come with you?” Nessa sounded amazed and disapproving at the same time. “Gutsy.”

  “So? What’d he say?” Liv’s vegan-friendly faux leather boots shuffled by.

  “What do you think he said?” Molly sounded offended. The dressing room next door clicked open, then shut. “I mean, he said he was kind of busy, but he was obv just playing hard to get.” Pause. “Ew. What is that smell?”

  I stared at Paige, the blender in my stomach shifting into overdrive.

  She blinked back, tapping the digital watch on her wrist.

  Suddenly my shimmer gloss felt goopy, and the mascara on my lashes was weighing down my lids. I frantically shook my head no, but she just ticked numbers off her hand, like Carlos counting down to broadcast.

  Three, two—

  “REALLY?” she almost yelled, her lips just inches from the wall that separated our dressing room from my exes’. “Zander Jarvis asked you to be his lead singer? What’d you SAY?”

  I coughed. “Um, I told him I’d think about it.” Lie. “They’re good and all, but I’ve had a lot of other offer—” NO S’s! “—plural—and they’d be my fallback.” Lie. “Quitting the play really freed me up for better opportunity—plural.” Lie.

  “Totally.” Paige gave me a thumbs-up, her body quaking with silent giggles. But with every lie I told, my shoulders slumped farther down. What was I doing? Kacey Simon didn’t lie to get ahead. She told the hard-hitting truth, even when it was uglier than skull-printed taffeta.

  There was a heavy pause on the other side of the wall.

  “Uh, K-Kacey?” Molly broke the silence first.

  “Molly?” I widened my eyes in fake shock and met her in the dressing room hall. “What are you doing here?”

  “We were just shopping for the cast party.” Molly jammed her hands into the pockets of a pewter leather jacket, then took them out again and crossed them over her chest. “And Zander really loves this… kind of stuff.” Her kohl-lined eyes flickered with uncertainty. “Right, girls?”

  “Right, Mols.” Popping out of the dressing room, Liv and Nessa answered in unison. Their voices sounded tired, the way Mom’s did when Ella asked but why? a million times in five minutes.

  “What?” Molly yanked her jacket zipper to her chin. “You don’t think—”

  “We’re shopping for the cast party too,” Paige cut her off, appearing at my side.

  “Oh.” One look at Paige, and Molly’s face hardened. “So I guess extras are invited?” She flicked at her pink streak. “I wouldn’t know.”

  Beneath her sleek pixie cut, Nessa’s lips were pursed in a tight line, like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to smile or frown. Liv rolled up the sleeves of her grandpa blazer, her eyes darting between mine and Molly’s uncertainly. She looked like she was watching a tie-breaking lightning round at Wimbledon.

  “So, um…” Molly unzipped her jacket, then zipped it again. “Did I hear something ab
out you singing for Zander’s band, or whatever?” Unzip. Zip.

  I opened my mouth to respond. But my jaw locked when I saw the hammered silver teaspoon pendant around Molly’s neck. I glanced at Liv, then Nessa. They each had one. My face felt hot.

  “Yup,” Paige jumped in loudly, throwing her arm around my waist. I tensed. “He’s practically begging her.”

  “Paige.” I forced an eye roll. The corners of my lips were starting to twitch with anger, and I pressed them together. Molly could fake cool all she wanted. But her flushed cheeks gave her away. “Haven’t dethided.”

  “Do it,” Molly said, too quickly. “Then maybe you guys could play the cast party. Since you probably won’t get an invite otherwise.”

  I forced myself to take a deep breath and remain calm. Big picture. Big picture. Big picture.

  “Oh, I’ll be there,” I assured her. “But you don’t need me to get the band, right? Ithn’t Zander your date?”

  “Obv.” Molly raked her fingers through her hair. When her skull ring got tangled in the ends of her extensions, she left her hand resting on her shoulder. “I mean, is that what he told you?”

  “Ummmm…” I turned and squinted through my lenses at Paige, pretending to think. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi. I shook my head. “Nope,” I said lightly. “Jutht begging me to be in the band.”

  Molly’s face blanched.

  “I’m sure he just forgot.” Liv draped her arm over Molly’s shoulder.

  “Forgot?” Molly freed the ring from her hair, bringing a few long blonde strands with it and elbowing Nessa in the ribs.

  “Ow!” Nessa snapped.

  Just in time, the alarm Paige had set on my cell started buzzing.

  I lifted an index finger, cutting off Nessa’s whine. “Oh,” I said, glancing at the screen.

  “Who is it?” Molly said desperately.

  “Lemme guess. Zander. Again,” Paige jumped in.

  “For like the tenth time today.” I sighed and pocketed my cell. “I’ll call him later.”

  Paige shot me a meaningful glance. “So… I should get changed. Meet you out front?”

  “Yup.” I tousled my waves as Paige shut the door to her dressing room. Then I tossed Molly a casual wave, fighting the urge to strangle her with her knock-off kitchenware necklace. “Good luck finding an outfit.”

  I spun on my heel and headed confidently for the door.

  “Wait!” Molly squealed, right on cue. You could have wrung the desperation out of her voice. “So… um, Zander’s really been calling you a lot?”

  I turned back to face her. “And texting.”

  “Huh.” Her brow crinkled. “Do you think… maybe you could give me, like, some pointersonhowtogethimtogowithmetothecastparty?” The last part she blurted out in record time.

  Gotcha. Slowly, I held her gaze until her cheeks reddened again.

  “I mean, I could do it on my own. But since he seems to value your opinion for whatever reason.”

  “I gueth. If I wanted.”

  Her face relaxed. “OhmygodTHANK—”

  “In return for thomething, obv,” I cut her off.

  “W-what?” she blinked and looked down at the floor.

  “I want back in. And I want the YouTube video gone.”

  “Umm…” Molly turned to her left and right, as if she was looking for Liv or Nessa to make the call. Typical.

  “You’re delusional.” Nessa jutted out her chin defiantly. “Do you even know what’s happened to your rep in the past few days?”

  “The whole school saw that video.” Liv looked genuinely confused. “We can’t exactly erase their memories.”

  I ignored them. My business was with Molly. “We go back to normal,” I informed her.

  The recessed lighting highlighted Molly’s fading pink streak. She bit her lip, tiny worry lines furrowing her brow. “Okaaay… but I want a date with him before the cast party, one-on-one. And I want him at the cast party, too.”

  “Done.” I didn’t care that my voice shook a little. The plan was working. It was actually working. “Not a problem. I’ll get him for you.”

  “If you say so.” Irritation pricked at Molly’s voice.

  “Getoutwhileyoustillcan!” Paige coughed from the dressing room.

  Ordinarily, I didn’t take advice from other people. It would be backward, sort of like the Rolling Stones asking Skinny Jeans for tips on the six string. But in this case I made an exception, and scurried out of Betsey Johnson before Molly Knight could change her mind.

  BEGGARS CAN’T BE DRAMA QUEENS

  Monday, 12:02 P.M.

  The success of Phase One was a double-edged sword. On the bright side, Molly needed me now more than ever. And I had to give Paige credit: Using Skinny Jeans to lure Molly back to being friends with me was pure political genius.

  On the downside, I’d completely forgotten how insufferable Paige got when she knew she was right.

  “So you should review the Phase Two rundown again,” Paige ordered Monday during lunch, as we hovered outside the double doors to the auditorium.

  “My entire future dependth on it, Paige. I’ve got it down.” I took a swig of grape Pedialyte, which was the only liquid Mom could find in the fridge that morning, and pressed my ear to the warped wood door. Silence.

  “Didn’t your Confidential Informant thay they’d be here during lunch?” The fingerless metallic gold gloves Liv had knit for me last year were starting to make my palms sweat. Even though I’d decided on a strict no-LīVthreads wardrobe until she apologized, the gloves added a hard rock edge to my outfit, as did the fishnets under my ripped skinny jeans.

  “They’ll be here,” Paige assured me. “My Algebra CI’s never wrong. And she says the band rehearses in the auditorium every day during lunch.”

  I turned my back to the doors and slid to the floor.

  “Are you sure you’ve got it?” Paige flopped down next to me and unzipped the front pocket of her backpack, pulling out a stack of green note cards at least three inches thick. They reminded me of Nessa. “I made cue cards if you need them. Maybe you should review one last time.”

  I sighed. Operation: SKS was almost as exhausting as rehearsal. Come to think of it, it was exactly as exhausting as rehearsal: lines to learn, props to remember, and a know-it-all director.

  Operation: Saving Kacey Simon (aka SKS)

  PHASE TWO

  Location: Auditorium, Silverstein Hall, Marquette Middle

  Time: 1200 hours

  Targets: Zander Jarvis, Kevin Cho, Nelson Lund, and The Beat

  Sources: Gravity Facebook page, Confidential Informant in Paige’s Algebra II class

  Goal: Accept Zander Jarvis’s (Code Name: Zander) offer to front band, without appearing desperate. Fake being friends long enough to get him to date Molly.

  OBJECTIVES

  • Objective A: Flatter Gravity to butter them up. Possible flattery points:

  • Hair dyed the color of blue crush berry punch is adorable and really brings out Zander’s eyes. And the tapered pants? Slimming. In a… manly… kind of way.

  • Calling yourself by a name like “The Beat” is so not lame. It’s kind of like Madonna, or Sting. And they’re major rock icons.

  • Kacey just happened to be walking down the hall during lunch and heard what can only be described as musical innovation. WHAT? It was Skinny Jeans’s band? And they haven’t signed a major record deal yet? Get. Out.

  Objective B: Rock out hard enough that Zander totally owes Kacey a favor. Cash in said favor on Friday and Saturday nights, with a date for Molly (Code Name: Pink Poseur).

  A cymbal crash clanged on the other side of the auditorium doors, followed by a drum roll and an electric guitar riff.

  “It’th them!” I scrambled to my feet, my heart pounding.

  “Commence Phase Two!” Paige thrust the deck of note cards into my hand.

  “I told you, I don’t need thethe.” But I stuffed them in my back pocket anyw
ay, my gloves soaking with sweat as I realized the enormity of my mission. What if Phase Two was a total flop? I had no backup plan, no other scheme to get Molly a date with Zander. My entire future rested on how the next two minutes played out.

  “Kacey! Breathe,” Paige ordered. “You got this.”

  I closed my eyes and took three deep, cleansing breaths until my pulse returned to normal. Okay. Gravity was no big deal. They were nothing, compared with the time Mom brought me as her dinner date for that fancy televised fund-raiser in New York and I accidentally (on purpose) TOUCHED MEREDITH VIEIRA’S HAIR during the second c-break.

  “Meet me at Sugar Daddy after school to debrief.” Paige whipped open the auditorium doors and shoved me inside. “NOW GO!”

  I stumbled over the threshold into the seat closest to the doors. Most of the house lights were down, but a few spotlights glowed over the band onstage. Zander was lifting his guitar strap over his head, cradling the polished wood instrument like it was the Hope Diamond.

  “So where do we want to start?” asked the kid hanging behind the keyboard. Kevin Cho on bass, Nelson Lund on keyboard, I reminded myself as Nelson bent over the keys and tried out a few chords.

  “Pick up where we left off last night, Z?” Nelson shook a mussed blond curl out of his eyes. His gray T-shirt was ripped in three places. Probably on purpose.

  “Yeah. Sure.” Zander kept his head down, strumming a few chords.

  “So you ever talk to that girl?” The Beat called from behind his black drum set. He tossed his drumsticks in the air and caught them without even looking up. “About the vocalist spot?”

  I gripped the armrests.

  “Yeah. Not interested,” Zander said. “And she was kind of mean about it.”

  HONEST! She was honest! I squeezed the armrest even harder, until the feeling left my fingers entirely.

  “Isn’t she that drama queen on Channel M?” Kevin asked.