Definitely Daphne

by Tami Charles

  There’s some giggling coming from the left of our lab table. When I look over, I see it’s Rachael and Natasha, and they’re staring right at me. I raise my shoulders at them as if to say, “What’s going on?” But then they start giggling some more. Rachael rips out a sheet of paper from her notebook and starts writing like a madwoman.

  “You ready to work, or are you too busy with your new squad?” John asks, taking my attention away from Rachael and Natasha.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, snapping a connector to the front axle of the vehicle.

  “Well you know what they say?”

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  Mrs. Gironda peeks her head into the classroom and asks Mr. Friedank to step into the hallway for a second. Rachael takes full advantage and flies a paper plane over to my table. I catch it in mid-air, fast before Mr. Friedank walks back in.

  “The price of fame is expensive and will leave you broke,” John responds.

  “Who said that nonsense?” I twist my face and finally look at John. And when I do, the sun catches him right in the eyes, showing off a kaleidoscope of browns, grays, and greens.

  “I don’t know. I read it in a magazine.” He shrugs.

  I open the paper airplane, turning my back a little to John so he won’t see. And when I see the message, my insides shrivel: Step away from the dork, Annabelle. We wouldn’t want to see you return to dork status.

  “What’s with you these days?” John’s question breaks me out of my thoughts.

  I wonder the same. New clothes. New hair. New “squad.” I’m not sure if I’m liking this new me after all.

  I take the note, stuff it into my pocket, and glance at Rachael and Natasha, who are laughing uncontrollably now.

  “Yeah, we never see you anymore,” Clairna chimes in. She and Nav are partnered at the lab table behind us.

  “It’s like we need an appointment,” Nav says.

  I turn around, and he bows to me like I’m English royalty.

  John throws in one more jab. “Guess we’re not good enough for you anymore.”

  But that’s not true! And Clairna pushed me to hang out with Rachael anyway! Why? So I could get an “in” with Steven Chu, who by the way, suffers from the incurable disease of Immaturitis? After two days of sitting with him at lunch, the diagnosis was easy.

  I want to say all of that, but Rachael and Natasha’s giggling is throwing my concentration off. And speaking of concentration, it doesn’t even look like they’ve started their project.

  “Oh, don’t be like that, guys,” I whisper. “Besides, Clairna, you made me go shopping with Rachael in the first place!”

  “Shopping for clothes is one thing. Shopping for a whole new set of friends is different!”

  I don’t need to look back to see Clairna give me a major Rachael-level glare.

  Ouch.

  Mr. Friedank steps back inside the room and paces to our area to make sure we’re doing the experiment. John completes the last steps — wrapping a thin rubber band around the toy vehicle back axle eight times to see if it’s enough to transform potential energy into kinetic. Four and six winds produced very little movement, if any. But eight times sends the vehicle flying off the lab table.

  We record our notes on the lab sheet.

  “Excellent work, John and Annabelle,” Mr. Friedank compliments.

  As soon as Mr. Friedank walks to the back of the lab, John starts up again. “When I first met you, I was like, ‘Wow, a girl from Germany who’s different and cool and not trying to fit in with anyone.’ It’s like you didn’t have to be phony to make anyone like you.”

  Then Clairna adds her bit. “You don’t need to wear things or hang out with a certain crowd to fit in. We liked you better when you were just yourself.”

  That last part really hurts, but I don’t say anything back, because honestly, what can I say?

  Class ends, and John, Clairna, and Nav grab their things and head to next period, leaving me behind.

  33

  I Already Know

  My alarm goes off late the next morning. All of my new clothes are in the dirty clothes basket, which means I have to fish out something from my old wardrobe. Or raid Mom’s closet, but she’s not home to even help me with this fashion emergency.

  To make matters worse, the weather gods decided to be comedians today by painting the Linden skies gray with a dash of thunder clouds.

  Dad yells from the front door, “Hurry up or I’m going to miss the train. I’ll wait for you in the car!”

  Quickly, I toss on a pair of brown overalls and a multi-colored plaid shirt. But I need something to cuten up the look, so I roll up the pants to my shins and throw on those high-heeled booties. The toaster oven starts screaming just as I draw in one squiggly eyebrow. Next thing I know, I’m flying down the steps to the kitchen, stuffing the burned bagel into my mouth and darting to the car while the weather gods laugh and dump rain on every. Single. Part. Of me.

  By the time I get to school, I look a HOT, RAINY, MUDDY POODLE-HAIR MESS!

  Rachael and friends waste no time letting me know. “What on earth happened to you, girl?” she greets me in the hallway, her crew around her smirking.

  I feel the tips of my ears ignite and stay burning for the rest of the day.

  During lunch I walk over to their table and even though there’s a spot to sit, Rachael tells me: “Sorry, there’s no room.”

  My inner Daphne voice chimes in: So let me get this straight. I ditch my friends to hang out with you. I change my fashions and am finally “accepted” by you. And the one day I can’t dress to your approval, I’m not good enough to sit with you?

  That’s it. I’m done with Rachael.

  Of course I don’t say any of that. My inner Annabelle won’t let me. Being shy can be such a thrill kill sometimes!

  So I walk away in a huff. I don’t care about trying to walk like some supermodel, and I don’t care about wearing clothes that make me look diva-esque and give me wedgies.

  Just then I see John, Clairna, and Nav look at me and then go back to pretending that they’re enjoying today’s lunch: Veggie Surprise.

  LIARS!!!

  Clearly, even they don’t want me at their lunch table. I’m not sure I can blame them after the way I’ve been treating them. So I storm out of the cafeteria and go to the next best hiding spot: the paper supply closet.

  And Nav is right… the smell of new paper is AMAZING!

  I pull out my phone and text Mae. Lately, I’ve been slow to respond to her texts, or I’ve just not been responding at all. I can handle losing Rachael as a friend, even John, but not Mae.

  Me: Hey. Sorry I’ve been such a bad friend lately.

  Two minutes pass. Then five. My heart sinks with the tick of each second that passes. But then…

  Mae: It’s OK, amiga! I’ve been busy too. Working on something big. More on that later. But tell me… how is my superstar friend?

  I breathe the biggest sigh of relief. At least one friend isn’t mad at me. I tell Mae all about this latest Daphne experiment, how annoying the whole fashion thing is, how mean Rachael is, and how I think I’ve lost the only friends I’ve made at McManus.

  Mae: I think you know what you have to do.

  Mae’s right. I know exactly how I’m going to fix all of this. I squeeze my eyes really tight and pray for dismissal to hurry up so this day can be over with already. There’s a new vlog waiting to be recorded.

  But first, I need to try to make things right.

  Belle to Group, John, Clairna, Nav: Hey, guys. I’m sorry. For everything. I’m going back to just being myself. Can we start over and be friends again?

  Ten minutes later…

  *seen by all*

  No response.

  34

  Daphne Doesn’t Do
Fashion

  As soon as I get home, I transform myself into Daphne — lime green wig with glitter strands, my Harry Potter–style cape, an oversized hat with a feather, and pink-rimmed shades that are about five times too big for my face. I look ridiculous, but I am loving every part of my outfit.

  Today I decide I’m going live. Now that my channel has grown to over ten thousand subscribers, YouTube allows this feature. I’m way too anxious about everything that happened at school today to spend time editing in iMovie. I need to get some stuff off my chest before I spontaneously combust.

  I set my phone on the tripod, open the app, start playing music and dancing, and I don’t even care that I have zero rhythm. Going live in three… two… one…

  “Hi, guys! It’s your girl, Daphne, and welcome to my channel, Daphne Doesn’t.

  “Today’s episode is all about fashion and the top five things I can’t stand about following the latest trends:

  “Number one: The expense. People of YouTube land, shop the clearance rack! Who spends hundreds of dollars on shoes? Or even better, seventy-five hundred dollars on a coat? Do you realize how many tech gadgets I could get with that kind of money? Thrift shops exist, people. You can probably find that same coat in a thrift shop for wayyy cheaper.

  “Number two: Rips, rips everywhere! People! Why are we buying purposely ripped clothes? It’s cold outside. It’s almost Christmas, for crying out loud! So cover up and let it snow, let it snow, let it snow! Geez!

  “Number three: Bodysuits. The nineties called, and they want their onesies back! These things need to be a criminal offense. Just trust me when I tell you to never ever wear them. Your butt will thank you.

  “Number four: Wavy eyebrows. Now I don’t mean eyebrows that naturally grow wavy and there’s nothing you can do about it. I’m talking about dipping a toothbrush in hair gel to purposely transform your eyebrows into waves that even mermaids would want to swim in. Just… don’t.

  “Number five: And my least favorite one of all? Blending in. There is no individuality when you’re trying to look like everyone else. Where’s the fun in that?

  “It’s cool to be different. It’s OK to be yourself. Even if that means some people will make you feel bad about it. So wave your inner fashion weirdo flag high and mighty, because trends may come and go, but individuality lasts forever.

  “Thanks for watching Daphne Doesn’t. Be sure to like, follow, and subscribe. See you on the next episode!”

  During the whole taping, I see the views increase. Fourteen hundred and forty-one, then eight thousand, then twenty-seven thousand and counting. The comments are flooding in:

  LifeWithDogs: I think following fashion trends is silly too! Just be yourself!

  PinkyHearts: Who cares what’s on the outside? It’s what’s inside that matters.

  Elle_Sauly: Cool dance moves, Daphne!

  BrooklynChica: OMG, please do a vlog just about that silly squiggle-brow!

  That last comment sparks an itch to give the people what they want. So I do another live vlog showing everyone just how horrific squiggly eyebrows can look. And between the two new vlogs, the comments keep rolling in. Funny requests. Positive vibes. All of it makes me feel like what I’m doing means something.

  But even though shooting the live vlogs felt like the most amazing release, another familiar feeling soon returns — emptiness. John, Clairna, and Nav haven’t responded to my text message, but they all saw it. And now I have a feeling that I blew my shot at real friendship. Because I didn’t speak up, I messed it all up. I’m not cut out for school or sports or drama or fashion. But worst of all? I’m not cut out for friends.

  It’s almost ten o’clock by the time I finish hanging out in my girl cave listening to depressing Ed Sheeran songs.

  “Time to close up shop, Annabelle!” Dad yells down the basement steps, just as I’m shutting down my MacBook.

  “Coming, Dad.”

  When I get upstairs, Dad is sitting at the breakfast bar, drinking hot tea. “What’s with the glum face?” he asks.

  I turn off the basement lights and close the door. Then I pull up a stool and join him at the counter. “It’s just things are… complicated,” I admit.

  Dad takes a sip of his tea, and the warm, gingery smell spreads all around the space between us. “I thought things were going well. Aren’t you happy? You’re Miss Popularity now.”

  “I’m not sure if any of it matters. The clothes. The fake friends. I felt more like myself when I hung out with John, Clairna, and Nav. Now I think they hate me. And honestly, I’m not sure if I like me like this after all.” By the last word, I’m crying.

  Dad puts his tea down and pulls me in to his shoulders, where I let it all out. Tears, fears, and a few sobs. “It doesn’t matter how other people see you,” he says. “All that matters is how you see yourself. As for your old friends, I’m sure things will get better really soon. Say, since Mom’s at Fort Dix doing overtime, it’s a Daddy-daughter weekend. You know you could invite your friends over, if you want. My kitchen is always open.”

  My father, Señor Ruben Louis, aka the BEST dad in the world, just gave me an idea. I know exactly how I’ll fix things!

  35

  Being Normal

  I go back to school Friday dressed as my normal self. Rachael can have the popularity, the fashion, and the teasing.

  As I walk into homeroom, I can feel all eyes on me. And it takes me right back to the first day of school. Counting the tiles on the floor, walking to my seat in the back of the room, hearing the whispers:

  “What happened to Annabelle?”

  “Looks like she’s back to her old self.”

  “Pick a team, girl. Dope or Dork.”

  I sink into my chair, trying to block out the comments and the googly eyes. When I do take my eyes off the floor, I notice John staring at me. And not in the I-still-hate-you way, but more like a nice-to-see-the-real-you-again kinda way.

  It starts with a smile, even though it’s faint. By second period, it’s a casual “hey” from John, Clairna, and then Nav. By third period, it’s a “See you at lunch?” from John, which I take as a clear sign that maybe he’s not mad at me anymore.

  This makes me feel a thousand times better! No more eating in the paper supply closet.

  Before lunch, I stop at my locker to switch books. Clairna is at her locker too.

  “You sitting with us today, or what?” she says, grabbing her algebra book.

  My smile grows and circles around the circumference of my head. “After you guys didn’t respond to my text, I thought… Listen, I’m sorry if I—”

  Clairna holds her hand in the air and cuts me off. “Apologies aren’t necessary. I get it. You took a drink from the popular jug. It tasted good at first until that aftertaste settled on your tongue. And I admit, I’m the one who pushed you in that direction, for my own selfish reasons. Turns out Steve Chu has the maturity level of a seven-year-old!”

  I start laughing. “I totally agree!”

  We slap high fives, and everything feels right in my world again.

  “I’ll meet you guys in the cafeteria. I have to use the bathroom first.”

  “Sure thing.” Clairna starts making her way to the cafeteria.

  When I enter the bathroom, who do I see staring in the mirror, putting her face on?

  Rachael stops mid-gloss and tosses the tube into her pink, fuzzy makeup bag. I pay her no mind and handle my business. I take my time, hoping she’ll walk out of the bathroom any second now, or that one of her fans will come in and distract her. But under the stall I can see her feet glued in place, like she’s waiting for me.

  When I’m done, I go to the sink to wash my hands, not looking her way. I wash my hands extra fast, because I just want to get out of there. But then Rachael can’t take my ignoring her. She corners me, putting her face so close to mine, I
can smell her lip gloss — a mixture of candy canes and something fruity. Must be new.

  “Nice outfit, Annabelle.”

  My soul dies a little, but I refuse to let her see it. “Um, thanks.” I inch a little to the left. Rachael follows.

  “Check out this YouTube live video.” She shoves her iPhone in my face.

  I pretend like I’m watching it for the first time.

  “Funny, huh?” she asks.

  And then she swipes her phone and shows the eyebrow vlog. That’s when I know I’m toast.

  “Yeah, that girl is pretty hilarious,” I say, trying to play it off.

  “Hmm… so funny because Daphne is showing the eyebrow trick exactly like the way I showed you,” Rachael says.

  I don’t respond, just kinda nod like, yeah, that’s so crazy, girl!

  But Rachael’s not done with me yet. “Say, doesn’t that necklace look familiar?” She pauses the video and zooms in.

  My hands rise up to my neck. Mom’s necklace. The same necklace I forgot to take off last night for my vlog! But there’s no way I’m telling Rachael that, so I just lie: “Sort of, I guess. But you can find this necklace at any store. And there’s lots of makeup vlogs on YouTube. Daphne could’ve learned that trick anywhere.”

  “Oh yeah? Same words and everything, huh? Nice cover-up, Annabelle.”

  “What do you mean?”

  And cue sweaty back!

  “It all makes sense now. You, re-enacting the same scene from Little Shop of Horrors and then stealing my part from me. Your mom calling you ‘Daph’. That YouTube comment about Daphne living right here in New Jersey. And now you’re wearing the exact same necklace. I’m not stupid. I know you’re Daphne!”

  I laugh out loud, trying my best to convince Rachael — and myself — that she’s got it wrong. “You’ve officially lost it, girl.”

  The second I say that I can’t believe it. I’ve never been so snippy with anyone.

  “Nice comeback, dorkface. Way to dodge the accusation.”