Chapter 10
Mom honked outside of Bridge’s house. As I ran out, I could still smell the pudding on my shirt even though it was now hidden by my neatly trimmed hair. Mom smiled in her purple workout outfit and messy ponytail. She looked cute today.
“How was your day?” Mom asked as I jumped in.
“Let’s just say that it’s been a really, really long day,” I replied as we headed down the street.
By this time the Gabber Gum had worn off and I didn’t feel like talking, much less going into a giant explanation about my day. And after my sleepless night, I was just plain pooped.
Come to think of it, the day had actually started off well with Bridge’s amazing makeover. She had been accepted at the J+L table and even invited to Venus’s party which, of course, I had not. (Me bitter? Maybe a skosh.)
And by me smooching Adam, Venus had now also extended an invitation to Adam. Good for him. Maybe he’d make it as a finalist for the Homecoming Court after all and then get to star in that TV documentary.
Where the day had started turning ugly was with the clinical and oh so personal trials of our hair and nail growth accelerators. But luckily, things weren’t as disastrous as we had thought and would eventually be super fab (with some minor tweaking, of course).
And finding out about Venus asking Swen to the dance had thrown a big wrench into the mechanics of my master plan, but I wouldn’t consider that a done deal yet. I had managed to shake off the psychic ravages of that news by the time classes had let out.
But then the true horrorfest had taken place after school with the extreme gymnastic act that Mase and I had done for Swen. My face still burns from embarrassment when I think of it. Ugh. But let’s move on to more positive things! There would be tomorrow when Mase debuted his new transformation. I couldn’t wait. He was definitely going to be Mr. Dramarama.
“Luz. Hey, Luz!” Mom said, turning her head to me.
“Yes?” I said, trying to pay attention.
“Now, where am I supposed to take you?” Mom said as she slowed down the car a bit.
“Oh, it’s easy. Just take seventy-five to University Park and turn right on Mt. Vernon.”
“Mt. Vernon Estates?”
“Yeah,” I replied.
“Ohhh, that’s muy rico,” Mom said, looking quite impressed.
“Yeah, I know. It’s supposed to be really nice,” I said, not wanting to get into much more convo.
I wondered how nice Susan was going to be especially when I asked her to test out my latest creation, called “White Away Right Away.” They were self-tanner jelly beans to give your skin a slight bronzing from a formula I had developed by extracting beta-carotene from carrots. I just hoped Susan wasn’t allergic to carrots.
As we turned right on Mt. Vernon into Susan’s neighborhood, I had to do a double-take because the houses were so big I almost mistook them for apartment complexes. They were beyond huge.
Once we checked the address again, Mom turned into a spacious driveway. All the cars were either gone or tucked out of sight. Mom pulled our Tahoe right up to the door. And then, Mom, totally in “Mom mode” said, “Do you want me to come with you?”
“Por favor, no!”
“Okay, well then at least give me a wave so I know everything is alright.”
“Fine ...” I said as I stepped out of the car with my duffel bag. It was so much lighter now that I wasn’t lugging around everyone’s clothes for the week.
As I walked toward the front door, I felt like I was shrinking and the door was growing larger. I reached for one of the creepy-looking lion-head doorknockers but was relieved when I noticed the doorbell. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. Didn’t help. It wasn’t because this was a Richie-rich house, because I’ve been to all kinds of parties and houses before because of my mom’s job. I think I was just starting to doubt myself. Was my Cinderella-Frankenstein magic going to work on Ja ... Susan?
Just do it, I commanded myself.
I rang the bell. And waited. No answer. I looked at the side windows where I could see a very formal dining room with that French furniture that’s all swirly and painted gold. You know that kind that looks cheap but is anything but? The lights appeared to be on. I looked back at my mom and shrugged my shoulders.
Maybe it takes a really long time to answer the door when you have a house that big, but then you’d think you’d have a butler or something. Suddenly, the door opened slowly and, lo and behold, standing there was a man, the butler. This casa was bank.
“Hi, I’m Luz. Susan and I are working on a science project together,” I said in my most appropriate schoolgirl tone.
Before the mysterious butler spoke, Susan appeared from behind him.
“Hey, Luz,” Susan greeted dryly.
“Hey, Susan,” I said, relieved to finally see someone I knew and know I wasn’t going to be murdered (or worse).
I waved off Mom so she could get to her workout class and motioned that I would call her.
“C’mon in. This is Mr. De la Cruz,” Susan said as she stepped back to let me in her grand foyer. I quickly looked up at the gigantic chandelier that hung over us. It made me feel a bit squirrelly.
“How are you doing tonight?” Mr. De la Cruz asked, adding some warmness to the big, otherwise cold house.
“Fine, thank you,” I answered, trying to take all this fanciness in while making sure my big chunky boots weren’t tracking in mud or dirt.
“Can I get you two ladies anything?”
“How about a couple of pizzas?” Susan said as she wiped her eyes as if she had been napping.
“How about your diet?”
“Bueno. Por favor tráigame dos personal pizzas y dos ensaladas,” Susan replied, as if placing her order in Spanish and adding two salads magically made it less damaging in the calorie department.
“You like pizza, Luz?”
“Yeah, that’s fine,” I said (never mind that I had had it for lunch earlier).
“Okay, then, I’ll order up. I’ll call you when they’re ready unless you want them in your room.”
“Yeah, my room is better,” Susan said, walking toward the staircase.
As Mr. De la Cruz disappeared into a long, dark hallway, Susan motioned to me to start climbing her monster of a staircase. I secretly snapped a picture of the staircase with my purse. I wanted Bridge to see this joint.
“You don’t have to eat your salad,” Susan added, without fear that Mr. De la Cruz might still be within earshot.
“That’s okay. I like salad,” I said.
“Well, I don’t. I’m just going to feed it to my pet alpaca.”
“Aren’t they kinda like llamas?” I asked, trying to envision what these creatures looked like. I think I had seen a commercial on TV about them once.
“No, Luz, they are quite different.”
“Oh, okay ... well, does your alpaca have a name?”
“Yeah. I first wanted to call him Frodo.”
The stairs were steep. I was running out of breath. “You mean like from The Lord of the Rings movies?”
“From the books, Luz.” Susan looked at me with disgust, like I didn’t read. “Anyway, I also wanted to call him Fantastic. So, I decided to make a hybrid and call him Frotastic,” Susan continued, sounding pleased with her own vast creativity.
“Oh. That’s cute,” I said, trying to sound convincing.
As we finished hauling ourselves up the stairs I wondered what I had gotten myself into. How can I turn this alpaca-loving, salad-hating girl “shiny” (if I may borrow Venus’s word of the day). And if I’m successful, then shouldn’t I win the regional science competition, a date with Swen, my fifteen seconds of fame on TV, and a Nobel Prize in Physics for engineering a miracle?
I shook my head and returned to my harsh reality. I followed Susan down a hallway and into a dark room. She turned on a light.
“Here’s my room,” Susan announced from halfway across her palace of a crib.
“Oh, wow!” I said.
What struck me about Susan’s room was the size. It was colossal. I felt so little. I mean, I’m only five feet but, dang, I definitely felt like elfin magic.
And being surrounded by gallons and gallons of dark purple paint, I decided this place wasn’t just about elves; this place screamed of wizards and everything else that goes with those folks. There were silver painted stars on Susan’s ceiling and crystal balls and other types of unicorny-themed accessories on her shelves and dresser.
Her bed was halfway covered with a very lush velvety black comforter and was housed in a loft area with her desk thoughtfully placed underneath.
And then there were at least a hundred posters and drawings strewn about covering most of her floor. At first glance, I could tell it was all her artwork. She was like this out-of-control maniac artist.
I tried very hard not to crush any drawings with my big ole silver boots as I walked around the edges. I decided to take a picture of Susan in her room as a “before” picture with my camera purse. I had her lean by her wall as I took her picture. Then I began to warm up the ole conversation.
“So, you’re, like, into wizards and fairies?”
Susan picked up a stray drawing and set it on her bed. “I prefer hobbits.”
“Aren’t they all kinda like the same thing?” I said, not really down with political correctness when it came to mythical creatures and freakish beings.
“Absolutely not,” Susan said with the same condescending tone I knew we would have to work on. As I was trying to figure out what to say next, Susan continued with my education on the magical freaked-out kingdom.
“Hobbits are very similar to you and I but they are smaller and have hairy feet. Elves and fairies are smaller than hobbits and have a humanistic form. And even though they possess magical powers, they are very mischievous.”
I looked at all the pictures on the floor. One hobbit had some nasty-looking hairy feet. “So, then why are you into the guys with the hairy feet but can’t do any magic?” I asked, feeling a bit perplexed.
“Because hobbits are truthful and sincere, Luz.”
I almost wanted to bust out screaming, so to keep myself from totally losing it, I bit my lip and turned away to discover Susan’s ginormous bookshelf that I must have missed due to unicorn overload. Her bookshelf had a ladder. A ladder.
Must take a picture of this. As I gazed at Susan’s books, I noticed there was a rather interesting drawing of a girl who resembled Susan and who, well, kinda, looked like a hobbit. I couldn’t be sure if she was a hobbit since I couldn’t see the feet in the drawing.
“Did you draw that?” I asked, pointing to the drawing that was hanging a bit on the crooked side.
“Yeah.”
“Who is that?” I asked, trying to straighten the picture.
“It’s J-girl,” Susan said, like I knew exactly whom she was talking about.
“Oh, okay,” I said lightly, not really having a clue.
“Don’t you wanna know who J-girl is?” Since she was fully aware that she had a captive (read: imprisoned) audience, she let me give a courtesy nod.
“Well, I’ll start from the beginning. There was this beautiful dark elf named Kimus. At first, Kimus wanted to save the hobbits from destruction from this mysterious creature called the Coo Coo Na Na who loved to eat hobbits. And so Kimus thought she could trick the creature by transforming all the hobbits into beautiful elves. She transformed all of them except one.”
“Except for J-girl,” I anticipated.
“Right!” Susan said excitedly.
“J-girl knew something was up and didn’t trust Kimus. She didn’t have any desire whatsoever to be one of Kimus’s little Kim-A-Long new elves. And so one day, when J-girl was riding Frotastic, her magical alpaca ...”
I snapped a picture of J-girl. “Like yours?”
“Yes, like mine. Anyway,” Susan continued, annoyed that I had interrupted her story, “when J-girl was riding Frotastic, her magical alpaca, she overheard some elves from the kingdom of Blisteria. And they were talking about how Kimus was only transforming the hobbits because she wanted to run the elf kingdom. And it was only a matter of time before she would use her new tribe of transformed hobbits to start a war in Blisteria. It was J-girl who saved the day.”
“How did she save them?” I asked, knowing I wouldn’t believe the answer.
“She made sweaters from the wool of the alpaca and that magically morphed the elves back to hobbits,” revealed Susan.
So now at this point, I’m trying to figure out if Susan is talking code to me and doesn’t want me to change her or her hairy feet.
“Hey, Susan, I’m sorry I can’t stay too long. You know, homework? Can I show you what I have brought for you to wear for the next few days for this science experiment?” I was hoping to muster up some more enthusiasm.
Susan knocked off the picture she had put on her bed and sat down like a bump on a log. “Yeah, I guess so.”
I pulled out a few green shirts to show Susan. Thank God she liked them. And then I found out she liked green because it reminded her of leprechauns. Imagine that. We finally found a button-down green shirt that actually was a little more formfitting than the sweatshirt she normally wore and it looked decent.
“I have some green jeans that could go with this shirt,” Susan added, as if that color combo was going to wash with me.
I quickly told her that we should go for a dark pair of pants so that the focus traveled from her shirt to her face and then that would complement her red hair.
Next, I had her test a scent that, like Mase’s, was formulated to appeal to a specific target audience. For Susan I had the band kids in mind. I figured she liked it because when I sprayed the air so she could take a sniff, she grabbed the bottle and sprayed some in her mouth.
“That’s really not to be digested. You should only wear it on your skin, you know, like perfume,” I hinted strongly.
“Then why does it smell like brownies?”
“Well, one of my theories that I’m testing is that when people get a whiff of you, they will associate you with that yummy smell. And this, therefore, will make you yummy. How’s that sound to you, Suz?” I was trying to get her to jump on the ole freak-of-science bandwagon.
“Don’t call me Suz. My stepmom calls me that and I hate her,” Susan snapped abruptly.
“Got it. Lo siento. But you gotta admit, it smells great,” I said as I sprayed some more eau de brownie in the air to try to quickly change her focus from wicked stepmother to wicked brownies.
“Yeah ...” Susan wrinkled her nose in search of more brownie smell.
“I have just a few more things that are really small but I think we will get huge results.”
“Like what?” asked Susan, now actually sounding curious.
“Your hair.”
Susan had kept the same horrible hairstyle she had had in elementary school. She wore it in French braids, which would be cool if she was on the drill team or on the cheer squad. But she wasn’t. Furthermore, Susan’s braids were tired looking and sad.
After I untangled one of her braids, I was surprised how long and thick her hair was. For a moment, I wondered if she had borrowed some of my hair harnesser. I parted her hair on the side and let it hang down, and with a little help from some mousse, it was perfect. Susan actually looked cute!
With a gentle knock on the open door, Mr. De la Cruz finally brought our personal pan pizzas with a small salad for each of us. It totally looked like it was delivered from a restaurant. I was starving. Susan and I took a break and cleared a space on the floor among her sketches and markers and munched down.
After eating, I suggested to Susan that this would be a good time to try some self-tanner jelly beans.
“Don’t eat these on an empty stomach. Because the carrots and sugar can give you a frothy feeling like when you take vitamins,” I warned.
“I don’t like carrots or any vegetables,” Susan said, rubbing her nose.
“I promise they don’t taste like carrots—that’s only one of the components. They actually taste like jelly beans. You like jelly beans, don’t you?”
Susan looked up at the ceiling trying to recall any preferences. “I guess,” she said.
For starters, I gave Susan five jelly beans and then we waited to see how tan she would go.
“Aren’t you going to have any?” Susan asked suspiciously.
I kept my gaze on her arms to see if her skin started to change color. “No, because I’m already tan enough,” I said, as if she didn’t realize that I was Latina and naturally brown.
“Oh,” Susan said as she tried to pick out a piece of stuck jelly bean in her teeth with her finger.
We waited for about ten minutes and nothing happened. I wondered if I had given her enough. I mean, she was a big girl, y’know? I was about to hand her a few more jelly beans when I saw her cheeks glow rosy pink.
The hint of color to her face was subtle and I didn’t want to give her any more jelly beans because I was afraid she might end up looking like a lobster.
Now with her hair down, her new shirt, new perfume, tan, uh, coloring, I was ready for Susan to check herself out in her mirror.
“So, what do you think?” I asked, very pleased with my new creation.
“Hmmm ... it’s alright,” said Susan as she leaned a bit closer to her mirror to see, since I had suggested she not wear her Coke-bottle glasses.
“Alright? You look fabulous! Really. And tomorrow, you’re going to have the most amazing day. Now, stand against your shelf as I take an ‘after’ shot.” I had the utmost confidence.
After our photo session I gently talked with Susan about her voice. The girl had a sky-high GPA, but when she opened her mouth, she pretty much sounded like a cross between a zombie and a bullfrog.
Then boom! I had an Einstein moment. When I asked how she spoke to Frotastic, Susan immediately baby talked to me. It was kinda icky at first, but it was definitely a huge improvement over her regular voice.
I told her when she’s at school she had to pretend like she was talking to Frotastic all day long, especially when sitting and eating lunch with the band kids. I also mentioned that she couldn’t do this experiment partially; she had to go all the way to ensure scientific accuracy and her personal success. And that would include documenting her new experiences.
I had made her a very lo-tech Pic Purse—a disposable camera camouflaged by a brown lunch bag. I was sure she’d be scrawling freakish beings all over it before long. She just gave me a blank stare.
“Now, why do I have to eat with the band kids? They’re dumb.”
“Susan, you’re in band with them.”
“Yeah, that’s how I know they’re dumb,” Susan said, having no problem dissin’ her peeps.
“Well, I’m having different people mix in different groups. I thought this would be a great challenge for you since you’re a different type of person in, well, the same group. And especially after hearing your J-girl story, I think this is totally you.”
“Are you kidding?” Susan asked while eating a stray jelly bean she’d found on the floor.
“You’re like J-girl in that you’re going to help this band tribe not get labeled as dumb. You can find out what makes this group cool and protect them from all the evil Kimuses at school. You could do that, couldn’t you?” Then I shut my mouth tight and waited.
Susan started thinking about what I had said. I felt like I had struck a chord with her, which was amazing in itself, since I had had such a turbulent day and all the neurons in my brain were pretty much fried. In a word, I was desperate.
“Okay, Luz, I’m going to do this for the extra credit and that’s it. But if something bad happens to me, just remember, something bad will happen to you,” she agreed, with the kiss of a threat.
“Oh, Susan, nothing bad is going to happen to you because we are in this together,” I said in my best Gamma High cheerleading voice, which really fell flat, because I am so not a rah-rah, because I am a scientist for God’s sake.
I tried to give Susan a sisterly hug, but it was like hugging a dead person (or dead hobbit, for that matter). So, I decided to start gathering up my stuff because it was late and I still had a pile of homework to do.
And when I reminded Susan not to eat more than five of those jelly beans a day, I could feel her little beady eyes just following me around the room as I double-checked to make sure I had all my stuff together. It was spooky. Her staring was freaking me out so much that I decided to jump into one last attempt at la conversación.
“Hey, Susan, you didn’t finish your story. What happened to the beautiful elf named Kimus?”
“She was murdered.”
“Oh, well, that’s fascinating. I think you definitely need to illustrate that story,” I said, disguising the freaked-outness in my voice.
“I have. Do you want to see the part where Kimus is destroyed?” Susan said, now totally sounding like a freak as she kneeled down and looked through the hundreds of drawings on the floor.
“You know what, maybe some other time. I’ve really got to go. If you have any questions about this experiment, then call me or text me, okay? Don’t worry, I’ll let myself out. See ya tomorrow. Oh, y gracias por la pizza y ensalada,” I said quickly as I left Susan alone standing in the middle of her room with her drawings and J-girl.
I ran, or really I flew, down the stairs like that ill-fated fairy. I called my mom, who was already on her way. I was going to talk in Spanish and tell her I was being kidnapped except I know Susan makes straight A’s in Spanish and if she heard me it would destroy everything I had created in the last two hours.
She was the last Gamma Glamma transformation on the books. And now I could finally get some sleep, I thought. But I began to wonder if I could with this itchy scalp.