Then she knew. She crossed her arms tight over her chest.
“Honey, do you need a tissue?” my mom asked, digging through her purse. Next to us, Geoff gawked.
If she hadn’t called me “cow” and “spew,” if she hadn’t stolen my best friend simply because she liked his brother, if she hadn’t said terrible things to me every time I made a mistake . . . if she hadn’t done all those things, I would have felt bad for her. Really bad.
But she had.
So when she burst into tears and ran out of the store, leaving behind a herd of shell-shocked girls and a very confused Geoff—and I smiled, I felt pretty okay about it.
Chapter 28
LIVELY DIDN’T COME to school on Friday, but that didn’t stop the rumors—Lively stuffed her bra, her implants exploded, someone threw a water balloon at her (I think one of her ant-friends started that one, to try and save Lively from embarrassment. Not that it worked) . . . Sandra suffered a little too. Seemed that everyone except Sandra had known why Lively wanted to be friends with her. She slunk around school, ashamed about the whole thing.
After social studies, she appeared beside my locker. I twisted the combination into the dial without meeting her gaze, not sure if I was supposed to do the talking.
“Did you know?” she asked, using a soft voice.
I considered my answer while switching the books in my backpack.
“I figured it out,” I said. Then I added, “It was pretty obvious,” because, although I didn’t have any desire to be mean to Sandra since that day in the kitchen, I didn’t want her to think I was friendly. On one hand, I felt bad for Sandra because everyone knew she’d been used, but on the other, she’d treated me so poorly that I wasn’t going to jump up and down and be her friend again.
“I was stupid,” she said.
“Mmm-hmmm.” New Celeste was no dishrag. Sandra needed to say the words herself; I wasn’t about to give them to her. I zipped my backpack and closed the locker. The warning bell rang.
“And mean,” she finished. “I’m sorry.” Millie emerged from the crowd of students moving to their next class. She stood behind Sandra but didn’t say anything.
“Thanks,” I said. “You were mean.” We stood in silence.
“You’ve been working really hard,” she said. She wasn’t talking about my attempts at friendship.
I nodded. “I have.”
“It shows. Your outfit is cute,” she said, shy. It was a green shirt and black flowy pants combo from my recent mall visit with mom. She still wore the Lively Special.
Who needs a new “look”
now? Red Bathing Suit Woman snickered, in a
Lord of the Flies
type of mean way. I didn’t acknowledge either of them.
“Are we still . . . Can we hang out sometime?” Sandra tried. Her eyes were big and sad and hopeful, all at the same time, like a puppy begging for attention. My insides twisted, seeing that expression on her face—
one that she’d probably seen on me several times over the past few weeks,
I reminded myself. I sighed. Honesty is definitely the best policy in these situations.
“I don’t know,” I replied. So much stuff had happened and changed—and
I
had changed—that I didn’t know what our friendship would be like anymore.
She nodded like she understood, then slipped into the crowd to go to her next class, barely glancing at Millie as she passed.
“About time she apologized,” Millie said at my side. We started our walk to science. I shrugged.
“Hey, Celeste,” Alan Okuri, Mike’s friend, stopped us. “Did you really see Lively’s explosion?”
I was surprised. Alan barely said two words to me in the years we’d been at AlHo.
But he’s been paying you a lot more attention recently,
Red Bathing Suit Woman pointed out. What did that mean?
Millie gave me a nudge. “Uh . . . explosion? It was more like . . . deflation,” I finished. He laughed, showing dimples.
“Can, uhh . . . you tell me about it sometime?” he asked, with a nervous squeak to his voice.
My face flamed. “Sure, I guess,” I answered.
“Cool.” He walked with us in silence. We reached the science room door. “Your shirt’s a nice color,” he said, and went to his seat. The back of his neck glowed red.
“You’re quite the celebrity now,” Millie said as we took our own seats. “Looks like you’ve even got an admirer.”
“People will forget about it by Monday.”
Did she really think Alan liked me?
Did I want him to? He
was
nice . . . and smart . . .
“Doubt it,” she said, gesturing at our classmates. “They can’t wait for her to show up.” Someone made the lab water fountain squirt.
Maybe they wouldn’t forget after all.
I had to forget about Lively and the water bra for a while, though, thanks to the wedding rehearsal that night. Kathleen glowed with happiness and even Aunt Doreen enjoyed herself at the dinner after. As we said good night, I found myself in a conversation with Aunt Doreen, Mom, and Kathleen.
“What time do you have to be in San Francisco tomorrow?” Aunt Doreen asked, turning to me.
“Nine o’clock,” I said, before Mom could respond. “We have to get up early.”
Mom’s Questioning Eyebrows were outmatched by her Open Mouth of Shock.
“Yes, very early,” she said, when her mouth started working again. Behind her, Kathleen winked at me.
On our way to the car, Mom asked what had happened. I told her I changed my mind. I think she was afraid that I’d change it back, because she didn’t ask again and just smiled all the way home.
The truth was, I’d done a lot of thinking over the past two weeks. Between Kathleen’s conversation during our decoupage session, and Millie’s and Katy’s encouragement, I realized that the pageant
had
been good for me. I lost
some
weight over its six weeks—about nine pounds of the Negative Twenty—which wasn’t a bad start (I’d caved in and finally approached the scale). Plus, I felt better about myself. As Sandra noticed, I’d been wearing fewer hoodies and track pants, and Wrap Shirt Tennis Tangle or not, I liked how I felt in different types of clothes. The final round of the HuskyPeach, I decided, would be the way for me to do the pageant because I wanted to—not because Mom or Aunt Doreen or anyone else wanted me to be there.
I woke up the next morning expecting to feel nervous. Instead, it was excitement that made my hands tingle. I reminded myself of what Kathleen said: Let yourself enjoy the parts you like. For the first time since the beginning of the whole Husky Fiasco, I showered and dressed in a flash. Since I needed to be at the Embarcadero Center early to get ready, Mom took me. Dad and Ben would come up later.
The nuttiness at the PeachWear warehouse was nothing compared to the barely controlled chaos of the Embarcadero. The mall was transformed into a stage and runway—the exact one from round two. I flashed back to the Top-Dropping Bra Bombing, then pushed the thought away. Signs directed the stylists and contestants to various check-in locations, but most moms and girls were ignoring them, wandering around the stage taking pictures instead. The ever-present Guides in Black tried to keep order and encouraged people to sign in.
At least there are no boxes on conveyor belts overhead,
I thought.
“This is so exciting,” Mom said, squeezing my shoulder. For once, I agreed.
I gasped as we emerged from the shopping area into the center rotunda. Giant photos of each contestant hung on every other column surrounding the stage.
“They must be from round one,” I murmured, examining a bedsheet-sized portrait of Gail, done in black and white. Her dark hair feathered over one shoulder and her dramatic almond-shaped eyes stared out at us. The effect was breathtaking.
“We should find yours,” Mom said. Now I understood why the other moms and contestants were milling around.
I was about to agree when I remembered what I’d done during my shoot. “Uh, Mom, I don’t know if we should search for it right now,” I said. Grinning like a cartoon character probably wouldn’t translate well to six thousand times normal size. Mom would have none of it, though. She tugged me around like I was Couscous on a leash, gawking at each photo. Ashley’s was just as stunning as Gail’s. Her smile was as wide as the Golden Gate Bridge and her eyes sparkled. After hers, there was only one picture-column left.
I dragged my feet, but there was no avoiding the inevitable. When we reached the front of the column, I nearly laughed out loud in relief.
The girl in the photo stared straight at the camera, over one shoulder, in a tight close-up. She had dark hair, waved around her face. Her round eyes were so big and black you could see the reflection of the spotlights in them. Her skin was as smooth as marble, and her lips pursed in a pout. Developing it in black and white made every shadow and line on her face more dramatic.
My picture was so bad that they used one of some other girl!
The only problem was, I couldn’t figure out who.
“Honey,” Mom whispered.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said. I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
She must be furious
.
“Sorry?” she said, turning her gaze to me. “Honey, you are beautiful. Don’t you see?”
“Mom, that’s not—”
But it was. When Mom said it, I saw it.
Shadow Nate had picked one of my few serious shots. It was better than any school picture I’d ever take in my life. Mom was right—it
was
me, in a way I’d never seen myself before. Model Celeste looked grown-up, serious . . . dare I say it? Sexy.
Oh yeah!
Red Bathing Suit Woman said. I agreed.
Unfortunately, we were interrupted from admiring the picture any more.
“Hi, Celeste—did I get that right?” Violet Page Explainer Mom said. She’d emerged from behind my column. Bay-be smiled at me from her customary spot behind her mother.
“Yes,” Mom replied. “So nice to see you.”
“So nice to see
you
after that nasty fall you took last time. That box nearly hit Bay-be,” VPE Mom said. Then she said to Mom, “We didn’t think you’d bring her back.” Her nameless daughter watched the floor.
“I didn’t
bring
her anywhere,” Mom said with pride. “Celeste
chose
to come today.”
“Well,” VPE Mom said, clutching her purse close to her side, and leveling her gaze at me. “How
brave
of you.”
“We’re going to sign in,” Mom said, putting an end to the conversation. “Good luck today,” she directed to Bay-be.
“Can you imagine?” Mom said once we moved out of their range. “She thought I would actually force you to do this, like she forces her daughter. I would never put pressure on you like that. I mean—” She stopped.
I stood and waited, contestants and moms milling around me.
“Oh, that’s terrible,” she said, in a voice so low I wondered if she was speaking to herself or me. “I’m a little dense, I think. You told me that this wasn’t what you wanted, and I never listened, did I?” Her eyes filled with tears.
Even though I hated to see her upset, I shrugged. What was there to say?
“Let’s go,” she said. “We don’t need to be here.” She turned and walked in the direction we’d just come from.
Finally she gets it,
I thought. But leaving wasn’t what I wanted now.
“Mom!” I called, trailing after her. “Mom! Wait!” She slowed and let me catch up.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” she said. “Let’s go. We can go to Aunt Doreen’s and get ready for the wedding there.”
“I want to be here today, Mom. I
chose
to come back, remember? I might not have wanted this when we got started, but I do now. Let’s check in.” Other moms and daughters bumped their way around us.
She wrapped me in a big hug. I smelled her fruity shampoo. “You don’t have to do this, Celeste. We can go.”
“Really, Mom. I want this. Honest.” She studied me for a minute, hands on my shoulders, then squeezed me again.
“You’ve made a lot of big changes lately, haven’t you?” she asked. A blend of warmth and pride spread through me.
“Yeah, I have.”
We found our check-in station and were instructed to go to the HuskyPeach boutique on the second level. Frazzled Guide waited at the door. This time, her hair was pulled back in a low knot.
Easier to manage,
I thought. Based on its high shine, it was also shellacked in place with hairspray. Better hairstyle or not, an aura of overwhelming stress surrounded her.
“Moms need to wait in the audience today,” she said. “We don’t have enough room up here for everyone. You”—she pointed to me—“have to pick up your gown from Elsa before going to hair and makeup. She’s in the back of the store.” She shooed me in the right direction, but not before I said bye to Mom.
“I’m so proud of you,” she responded.
“I’m proud of me too.” I smiled.
Upstairs, giant clothing racks framed Elsa, but they looked less out of place in an actual store than in the warehouse. When I reached her, she was instructing Gail how to tie the sash on her electric blue dress. Gail waved at me and Elsa declared her ready to go to hair and makeup.
“You came back!” Gail said, giving me a hug. My heart lifted. “I’m so glad you did. Are you okay?” I nodded.
“I’m fine. And, I got a strapless bra.” I gestured with the Lace Slipper bag. Gail grinned. Returning was the right choice.
“To hair and makeup with you,” Elsa said again. Gail said bye and scurried away.
“Contestant eleven,” I said when Elsa turned her attention to me.
“You were the one with the wrong-sized dress last time,” she said. “I felt terrible. I guess the measurements on your card were wrong.”
That’s because Aunt Doreen guessed when she sent them in,
I thought. I put on my Innocent Expression. “What do we do?” I asked.
“I pulled a few items out for you based on what I remembered from your shape last time. Try these on.” She gestured to three dresses hanging from a hook on the end of a rack. “If none of them fit, we’ll go from there.”