Chapter 9
I can honestly say I have no recollection of what happened in any of my classes after lunch, not because of my lack of sleep but because of the shock of hearing that Venus had asked Swen to Homecoming. I must have looked “not quite right” because one of my teachers even asked me if I needed to go to the clinic.
I almost thought about it. But I didn’t want to go to the clinic and hang with folks who actually might be sick. I had too much to do. I did think about pulling an “Adam” and going to the girls’ bathroom and hiding in the handi-able stall, but, then again, I didn’t want to run into Adam either.
So, I just stuck it out. My English teacher, Mrs. Franks, told me I could lay my head on my desk and finish my essay on Pygmalion and character transformation at home. Wanting to sleep, I put my big ole cabeza on the desk. But I couldn’t sleep, because my mind kept racing with endless thoughts of science makeovers and romantic mayhem.
Did Venus really ask out Swen? Maybe Adam misunderstood. No, Adam’s ear for the dirt is as sure as the earth’s gravity.
Okay, if Venus did ask Swen, what if he said yes? Would I still want to go to the dance? And would I still have to go through with this project? Unfortunately, I already knew that ugly answer—yes. I mean, I was already too far along in this project and I couldn’t just use mis amigos as yo-yos for my own personal reasons (no matter how good they might be). After all, I was a scientist and scientists have to have ethical standards, don’t they?
And would it be super bad if I backed out on Swen and his story? I mean, I love him. At least I think I could. Would I totally disintegrate my chances with him if I didn’t do the story because he went to Homecoming with Venus? And then there was Dr. Hamrock. After the famous fish massacre, I don’t think he would easily let me off the hook (so to speak). What to do. What to do. My first reaction was to cry, but that seemed so lame.
Instead, I rested my head on my arm and I watched my silver magnetic botas kick back and forth underneath my desk for a few minutes.
And then it came to me like a bolt of lightning. I’m a strong Latina chica and scientific fashionista, right? All I had to do was pull myself up by my silver bootstraps and face the facts.
Fact one: Venus may have asked Swen out but it doesn’t mean he said yes.
Fact two: Venus loved yanking my chain and maybe she was. It was obvious how she invited Adam to her party (and not me) after I kissed him. So, maybe she wasn’t into Swen after all. I could at least hope.
And perhaps I could make my science experiment work and spend more time with Swen so that he could do thorough research for his article. I could also use that time with him to really get to know him (in a slow-burn kinda way), and then I could tell him the truth about Venus.
Then, finally, with a successful experiment, coverage in the paper, and Adam’s help, maybe I would make finalist for the Homecoming Court after all. And end up in Swen’s embrace. I could make this work out. I must make this work out.
The last bell of the day rang, and with a renewed sense of courage, I gathered up my stuff.
“I hope you start feeling better, Luz,” said Mrs. Franks in a motherly tone.
“I already do. Thanks, Mrs. Franks.”
Walking to the library to meet Mase, I received a text from Adam: “venus+swen=falz alrm ...” That made me feel lighter than helium until I got his lead balloon follow-up a second later—an ominous “... 4now.” It was true I couldn’t control the future, but right now I felt I had a new lease on life. Now things wouldn’t be weird when I met Swen and I could let my hair down, figuratively speaking.
Literally speaking, due to its rapid growth rate, my hair was becoming an obstacle course. I finally tied it up into a big, sloppy ponytail on top of my head.
As I waited for Mase, I leaned up against the brick wall in front of the library and watched the parade of kids go home for the day. And looked down at my boobs, or more specifically, the stains on my boobs. From my point of view (which was upside down), one stain looked like a little pony. As I stared at the second pudding stain trying to discover what magical shape might emerge, Mase skated up to me and started staring at my stains too.
“Oh, I don’t want to even go into it,” I said, a bit embarrassed. Mase just shrugged and waited for me to pull out my bag of tricks. I bent down and unzipped my large purple duffel bag, which weighed at least a ton.
For starters, I pulled out a simple-looking black shirt. It was really, really black, unlike the ones that Mase generally sported. Mase’s black shirts had all turned charcoal gray from his extreme living. Mase looked carefully at the shirt, then sniffed at it (for whatever reason), and finally nodded in agreement. Bueno, I thought.
Next on the fashion train express was a big black hoodie that looked spectacular. Never mind that it was Texas and ninety-five degrees, this hoodie reeked of mystery and coolness. In a word, it rocked.
“It’s cool, right?”
Mase nodded again and didn’t appear to mind playing along with me.
The next shirt I had for him was my favorite—kinda pirate-ish. When I shook it out of its crumpled state, I saw Mase’s face instantly wince.
“No, man, it’s really cool. You just need to accessorize it a bit. Here, let me show you what really cool chains I have for you.”
My head started itching again. I just figured it was because I was getting hot. I grabbed a few silver chains, and one that even had skulls on it.
As I pulled the necklace with all the skulls on it to display it by my neck, I could feel my hair growing again, and then my elastic scrunchie snapped. My hair spilled out, and as I reached to pull it back from my face it got caught and tangled in the necklace.
“Ahhh! Mase, help me!” I screamed.
Mase lunged to save me, but it didn’t help that he was on his skateboard at the time. He fell on me. Hard. His fist not only yanked a wad of my hair but also managed to yank the necklace, which broke, sending a million little skulls rolling on the floor. It was all happening in slow motion and it was just awful.
The quicker we tried to stand up, the quicker we slipped on the rolling skulls. Mase was being so sweet by trying to hold me up and at the same time not grope me.
However, now that my hair had grown another twelve inches, it was blocking my view and causing me to lose my balance. This time I was the one to fall flat on Mase.
“Hey, Luz, do you want to get together another time?” I heard a voice say.
I pushed myself up with my arms and stared into Mase’s eyes, because I thought maybe he had said something, but then I noticed him gazing past me in shock. Suddenly, I recognized the voice.
Miraculously, I jumped to my feet, even though Mase’s skateboard wheel was tangled in my hair. Mase also managed to stand up and tried to set his skateboard free by yanking my hair. I shoved him off and just held on to his skateboard as if it were a really big hair accessory.
“Uh, no. I mean yes,” I said as I gave a corny little wave with my only free hand.
“I just didn’t want to interrupt, uh, you guys,” said a confused Swen, who was looking at the clothes, the mess on the floor, and a beet-red Mase.
“You didn’t interrupt anything. I just fell and Mase was kind enough to help me out. I haven’t been feeling well,” I explained or, rather, lied. No, actually this was the truth. I’d been feeling sick ever since I was summoned to do this stupid science project.
Swen kept looking at my stains. He was probably wondering if they were from throwing up or something. Omigod, he thinks I vomited on myself.
“It’s pudding! Really! You know ...”
“Hey, Luz, it’s no big deal. Just call me and let me know when you want to reschedule, okay?” Swen said.
“Okay,” my voice cracked, “I’ll call you.”
Swen gave a nod to Mase and Mase nodded back from the floor as he tried to gather up the tiny skulls that were all laughing at us.
I fell back on the floor with the skateboard still in my hair and cried that “ugly girl” cry. Poor Mase. It’s almost a scientific fact that no guy on the planet wants to be in the presence of a girl who is in “ugly girl” cry mode. He raised his hands up as if to say, “What do you need?” So, I told him. Loudly.
“Cannn yooou taaake meee tooo Briiidge’s houssse?!”
Mase, being my true friend, put off his post-school session (especially since his board wheels were still well tangled in my new, long, monster locks) and took me to Bridge’s as I heaved and boo-hooed the whole way there.
When we arrived at Bridge’s house, Mrs. Joiner, who preferred that we call her Betty, answered the door. Betty, in her typical fashion, was dressed in dark, pressed jeans and a white dress shirt, with tons of silver jewelry and kitten heels. Which she almost tripped backward on as she caught sight of Mase, the maniac skateboarder, standing beside her daughter’s best friend with his skateboard attached to her head.
“Luz! Honey, what do you have going on now?” said Betty, who was all too aware of the not uncommon scientific misadventures that Bridge and I blundered into. She peered over her sexy librarian glasses and allowed us into her overly clean and perfect living room.
“Are you feeling okay? You seem a little red and swollen.”
“Oh, it’s nothing really. I just got my hair tangled in Mase’s skateboard. I’m just trying new sports and things,” I said, with my fake there’s-nothing-wrong-in-the-world smile.
“Oh, my. Has your hair always been that long?” Betty scrutinized me as she glanced back at her own hair in a nearby mirror in the foyer.
“Well, it’s been growing pretty fast lately. And I haven’t really seen you.”
I didn’t see Betty that much because Bridge said I made her mother nervous. I wasn’t sure if it was the way I dressed or the fact that she got really mad the time we tried to make a hair color that would look normal during the day and then glow at night.
Bridge and I love things that glow in the dark. We tried it and it actually worked for a day, but then our hair fell completely out. Betty (who is exactly like Bridge in that she cares what the country club set thinks of her family) had a Texas-size cow over that one.
“Umm. Can, I mean, may I borrow some scissors?” I asked in my innocent voice.
“Honey, I think you’re going to need a hedge trimmer for all that.”
As Mase nodded in agreement, I realized I’d forgotten my manners.
“Betty, this is our friend Mason. He’s helping me with my science project. Is Bridge in her room?” I said, hoping Mase and I could make a clean escape.
“Yes, she is.” Betty paused for a moment and said, “Mason, would you do me a favor and go to the kitchen? In the top drawer next to the refrigerator you should find some big scissors. I was kidding about the hedge trimmer.”
I wouldn’t have been surprised if that was actually what it would have taken to set me free. When Mase took off to the kitchen, Betty leaned in very close to me. I knew this was coming.
“He’s not a runaway, is he?” asked Betty, looking suspiciously toward the kitchen.
“No, he’s a skateboarder and an ... artist.”
Betty didn’t really understand extreme sports but she did understand artists. She was a big part of the Dallas Art Society, and she and Mr. Joiner were always throwing parties and openings for eccentric artists who were way stranger than Mase.
“Oh, okay, that’s such a relief. And you’re just going to cut your hair loose with my scissors?” quizzed Betty.
“Yes.”
“And that’s it?”
“Yep, that’s it,” I said. I didn’t want to give her any more information because she would interrogate me further and Mase’s skateboard was wearing me down, literally.
“You’re not going to give Bridget any science trims are you?” Betty asked, with her quotation mark fingers.
“No, I promise,” I answered and was glad to see Mase trotting back to my rescue. He handed the scissors to Betty, who handed them to me.
“Well, there you go. And if you make a mess, you know where the Swiffer is, right?” said Betty, revealing her type A tendencies.
“Absolutely.”
The phone rang and Betty ran off to grab it while Mase shot me a look that said, “What was that?” I smiled to keep from crying anymore today, and we headed to Bridge’s room.
With the stereo blaring, candles burning, and pictures of Einstein, Madame Curie, and Calvin Klein hotties staring at me from Bridge’s neatly done cream linen bulletin board, I felt myself calm down.
It didn’t matter that my face was still puffy or that I was all stopped up from crying so hard. I finally felt like I could breathe for a moment. And it also helped that I had cut my hair and finally set Mase’s skateboard free.
Mase also enjoyed a sigh of relief as he pulled out the last stray strands of my hair from his wheels.
Bridge was still in the bathroom so I sat on the floor combing my new locks and loudly told her through the door the story of my latest disaster.
“I can’t believe my hair is still growing! I hope it’ll slow down tonight ’cause I don’t want to wake up like Rapunzel tomorrow.”
“But what if you did?” Bridge asked.
I started pulling a stray hair out of my brush. “Then I’ll just give myself a quick chop.”
“What happens if it keeps growing at school?”
“Well, I guess I’ll just borrow your mom’s scissors again,” I said as I looked at the closed bathroom door.
“You can’t take them to school, Luz. It’s considered a weapon. You won’t be able to get past The Sekinator and his metal detector.” Like I hadn’t been through that metal detector a million times.
At this point, I was getting a bit peeved with Bridge’s negative ’tude. But she was right. Our vice principal (aka The Sekinator) lived for confiscating anything that didn’t pass quietly through the metal detector. Rumor had it that he sold all the stuff on eBay.
“Mase, do you have a large paper cutter in your art class?” I inquired.
Mase nodded but didn’t look up, because he was totally tranced out drawing on his skateboard with a marker.
“Él dijo sí. He said ‘yes.’ I’ve got it totally under control. Thanks, Miss Joiner,” I said to the bathroom door.
“That’s great, Luz. But what about this?” Bridge said as she slowly pushed open the door.
“What about wha ... ?” And then I witnessed a scientific horror. Bridge stepped out and walked into the middle of her room holding up her unbelievable twelve-inch claw fingernails.
Mase and I dropped our jaws in unison.
“Wow!” I exclaimed. Then I had to say it again. I looked at Mase and he even mouthed, “Wow!”
“Shut up and stop saying, ‘Wow’!” Bridge quickly snapped, trying to fight the cracking of her voice so she wouldn’t cry. I jumped up and made sure Bridge’s bedroom door was locked. Betty would kill us.
“Okay. Well, did you try to cut them?” I asked, trying to keep my eyes from growing wider from shock.
“Yes, I did, but they grew back.”
“What do you think happened? You measured everything. I watched your every move,” I said, trying to remember our formulation.
“I know. I even double-checked my notes. I even bought brand-name gelatin. Remember? I was so careful, Luz. What could have gone wrong?” Tears were filling Bridge’s eyes.
“First, I don’t think you did anything wrong. You let your fingers soak in the gelatin compound for twenty minutes and then you rinsed, remember? When I was rinsing my hair.”
“Omigod,” Bridge said as a five-hundred-watt lightbulb popped on in her head and then exploded.
“What?” I asked.
“Luz, remember how you were in a hurry when you got your hair harnesser shampoo in your eyes?” Bridge said, pacing around the room as she waved her manicured weapons of mass destruction in the air.
“Yeah?”
“Well, when you were rinsing out your eyes remember that I helped you rinse your hair?” Bridge spun around to me and almost poked me in the eye as she grabbed my hair.
“You’re right, Bridge. You’re totally right! Your nails were still soaking up your solution when you put your hands in my formula. It was a Reese’s moment. You got your chocolate in my peanut butter and I got my peanut butter in your chocolate,” I said as I gently lowered her talons.
“Yeah, and you didn’t measure your peanut butter formula and now we have no idea when this freakish growing phase is going to stop. And I can’t return to school like this!” Bridge said with her nails wildly waving around shredding the air molecules.
Mase quickly looked out Bridge’s window. Not two “ugly girl” cries in one day. He was ready to jump out the window at this point.
“You have to go to school. We just got started on this experiment,” I said, as a wave of panic overtook me.
“I’m not going to school with these platypus nails even if you are my best friend.”
Bridge was starting to spin herself out of control. And I had to calm her down. I made her sit on the floor with Mase as I now started to pace around the room like an army general.
“Okay, I’ll figure out how we can keep them trimmed throughout the day.”
Bridge’s mouth started to quiver. “With what?”
“With anything I can get my hands on.”
“What happens if you can’t get past The Sekinator?” Bridge said as she started to visit Doomsville again.
“Bridge, get hold of yourself,” I said, now standing over her with my metal boots and all.
“But what happens if ...” Bridge started to hyperventilate.
“Bridge! !” I yelled. “If I can’t get my hands on industrial-size clippers or any other sharp objects to cut your platypus nails, I’ll personally bite them off with my teeth. Okay, are you happy? Now, sit down and put your head between your knees and start breathing before you pass out.”
I had to sit down for a spell myself. I hadn’t seen Bridge this freaked out since science camp when she tried to make her own glowin-the-dark lip gloss and she burned her lips into giant blisters and then had to make a speech the next day in front of some really hot geeks.
Mase inched away from us crazy girls and migrated to a little rocking chair far in the corner. I sat next to my nutcase BFF and grabbed one of her claws to examine how thick her nails were growing. Bridge held her head carefully in her other hand. The room was still for a moment.
“Omigod,” clamored Bridge as she jumped to her feet, leaving scratch marks on my boots. “What happens if my toenails start growing?”
“Well, are they now?”
“No.”
“Well don’t worry about it and we’ll just make sure you wear flip-flops or open-toed shoes.”
Then I started wondering about my hair. If it was growing on my head, wouldn’t it also grow other places as well? I stepped into Bridge’s bathroom and checked my legs and arms and underarms and, yeah, I checked my britches. And thank my lucky stars, no hair was growing wildly out of control anywhere else. Could you imagine the horror if it did while wearing a skirt? Just to be safe, I think I’ll wear pants and long-sleeve shirts for a few days.
As I stepped back into Bridge’s room, she gave a small whimper.
“What is it now?”
“What am I going to wear tomorrow?”
“Whew. Now that one I can handle for sure without any disasters.”
I reached into my magic duffel and pulled out a very cute plaid mini to pair with a librarian sweater and a cute camie underneath.
“Where did you get those?” Bridge smiled while still fighting back the tears and sniffles.
“The thrift store,” I said honestly.
“You’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Is it sanitary?” Bridge wrinkled her nose as she covered her mouth with her talons.
“Yes, Miss Germania. I washed it three times for you. It’s hot, right Mase?”
I gave Mase a quick hint with my eyes. He nodded yes without any hesitation. He had seen enough crazy emotional girls today. Bridge began to stroke the librarian sweater with her claws.
I put my hand on Bridge’s shoulder. “Now, are we cool?”
“I guess so.” Bridge took the sweater and held it up to her chest and walked to her closet mirror. She grinned through her tears with approval. I inhaled more oxygen for my poor brain.
“Now, can you please help me get Mister Mason ready to go for his debut mañana?” I was hoping to keep her mind focused on something other than our scientific blunders.
After going through the motions of what shirts Mase would wear, we decided to keep him lean, mean, clean, and James Dean. In other words, the pirate shirt had to walk the plank.
We also decided no jewelry—at least no necklaces after our bad after-school-special moment. However, Mase would wear a big silver belt buckle à la Johnny Cash.
For him, I had also brewed up a special cologne that smelled of cedar and paint. It’s the paint smell that all the theatre productions smell like after the scenic artists finish the backdrops. It was faint, but I reasoned that this familiar smell would reignite the same feelings of excitement generated by opening night of a school play. It was a stretch for sure.
But what other smell could I have given him? Musty stage curtains? Buttered popcorn from the student concession stands?
So, in the looks and smell department Mase was good to go, but we still needed to work on one more aspect. If I needed to improve his aural appeal, I first needed to get him to make a sound.
“Okay, Mase, you’ve gone this far. And you’ve seen how hard we’ve been working to make this science experiment successful. I need just a bit more of your assistance.”
Mase cocked one eyebrow at me. I pulled out a small package of innocent-looking rainbow-colored gumballs.
“Chew on these. I invented them.”
Mase cocked his other eyebrow, not sure of what was to come next, especially after witnessing two of our science mishaps.
“I call them Gabber Gum. It’s gum that will help you spit the words out. It’s harmless.”
Mase immediately grabbed and held up Bridge’s hand to illustrate his lack of faith in my scientific process.
“Look, Mase, I hear you loud and clear but that and my hair were just simple miscalculations. I worked hard on these little babies. They’re one of my coolest formulas. It’s kinda like Willie Wonka. Don’t you want to see how they work? Aren’t you just a wee bit curious?” I said, hoping to entice him.
Mase scratched his head with Bridge’s claws and nodded.
“Bridge, will you help a sister out?” I stretched out my hand with a pink shiny gumball as an offering.
Bridge reluctantly took the gumball and popped it into her mouth making sure not to scratch her face with her nails. And I popped a gumball in mine. And we began chewing. And chewing. Mase waited with great anticipation.
And then we began to talk nonstop.
“It’s yummy,” I said.
“Yeah,” Bridge said.
“I have watermelon.”
“I have cherry.”
“It’s so delish,” I added.
“Totally,” Bridge said between chews.
“It’s like it’s energizing my brain.”
“Mine too.”
“In a good way,” I said in my rah-rah voice.
“Totally.”
“So, Mase, you gotta try this.” I smiled.
“You soo do,” Bridge said as she grabbed another gumball.
“We’re going to start talking faster than we normally talk,” I said.
“But you won’t come off like a spaz,” Bridge said.
“Like we probably sound,” I joked. “And it only lasts a little while.”
“How little, Luz?” Bridge asked.
“Twenty minutes max, I think.”
“You think? Don’t you know?” Bridge shot a wide-eyed look at me.
“Okay, I know,” I said, not wanting to get Bridge started again.
“Because Mase doesn’t want to experience the horror ...”
“That we just went through?” I finished.
“Exactly,” said Bridge, not skipping a beat.
“Okay, Bridge, you don’t have to be so ...”
“Fierce? Okay, sorry.”
Then out of nowhere, like from the sky, we heard a booming voice say, “Shut up!”
“Omigod. Bridge?” I said.
“Yes, I can’t believe it!”
“Mase, did you try a gumball?” I asked.
“Luz’s Gabber Gum?” Bridge added.
“Yeah,” said Mase with his ocean-deep voice.
“Mase, you have a hot voice.”
“Say something again,” begged Bridge.
“Shut up, Bridge.”
“That’s dreamy.”
“I didn’t know you could sound so sultry,” I said.
“And mysterious, too,” Bridge added, using her talons as a veil.
“Shut up!” Mase said.
“That’s simply amazing,” I said, paying no attention to Mase’s orders.
“The Dramaticas ...” Bridge started.
“Are going to freak,” I finished.
“If you girls don’t stop ...”
“Talking?” I finished.
“Yeah,” Mase said. “I’m going to ...”
“What?” I asked.
“Punch you.”
“Which one of us?” I asked.
“Both of you!” Mase yelled.
“Where?” I asked, pushing his envelope so that he’d talk more.
“Where it hurts.”
“Oh, Mase, you are ...” I started.
“A riot,” Bridge finished.
“I can’t wait ...”
“Until tomorrow?” Bridge added.
“Yeah!” I confirmed.
Mase just shook his head in defeat. And we all busted out laughing, and then I realized it was time to leave and continue my work with Jabba. Somehow, I got the feeling I wouldn’t be laughing as much on my next makeover.