In my room, I paced.
Back and forth.
I didn’t want a party.
For me, the family—my family—was good enough party people.
But try to tell a Messenger anything. They hear only what they want to hear. So Momma swooped me up for a late afternoon lunch, and a little bit of school clothes shopping, and then carried me off to Aunt Carol, who patted at my hair with both hands. While I sat in front of the mirror and avoided my own gaze. Sheesh.
“It’s growing long, Evie. You want I should cut it?”
She motioned with her fingers—shoulder length. Behind me, her own hair stood out like a tornado had ripped through her shop. Momma’s did the same.
“I don’t think so,” Momma said.
“Me neither,” I said.
“Good,” Aunt Carol said. She applied a little goop, pulled out the curling iron, steamed and twirled, then gave my hair a pat, pat, pat. Right above both ears.
She turned the chair, making me face her.
Aunt Carol, three years younger than Aunt Odie, put her hands to my cheeks. “A little makeup and not one boy who visits tonight will be able to look away.”
“Boys?” I asked.
Momma yelped. “Surprise!” She did a bit of a jig.
“I am surprised,” I said. And a little humiliated, too, I wanted to say. But who can pop her momma’s happiness bubble with that kind of grouchy attitude? Yup. No mixing mixes today. And maybe no mixing at mixers. I sighed.
Aunt Carol got out a tray with so many colors it put a good evening rainbow to shame.
“A little bit of purple,” she said, closing my eyelid with her pinkie finger. “Makes green eyes look greener. Some gold.” She stared me right in the one eyeball. “So everyone knows who the birthday girl is.”
I swallowed. I could smell perm solution. Bobby Rae rang up a customer, then slapped his hands clean after putting the money in the register.
“How was your trip with Odie?” Momma asked. She read a People magazine. A super-old Brad Pitt stepped out of the ocean on the cover.
I shrugged.
“Don’t move,” Aunt Carol said. “You wanna look like a ho?” Her hands were cool and not shaking even one tiny bit, the way mine do when I apply mascara.
“No, ma’am,” I said. ’Cause I didn’t. “Aunt Odie was sure Paulie would be able to tell me if I got any of the family Gifts. But he didn’t say anything. Just rushed us outta his house like that.” I snapped my fingers. The plastic apron, the color of a good black eye, waved with my movements.
Aunt Carol stopped applying makeup. Momma waited.
I stared at them in the mirror. Across the salon from us was Judy, giving someone a perm. And Maggie Moo helped a little old lady over to a sink so they could get her hair done.
Momma said, “She took you awful early to see Paulie.”
Momma knew Paulie?
“Tell me about it.”
“She’s always the most anxious,” Momma said, and Aunt Carol agreed with a nod. “Always has been.”
“So what happened?” This was Aunt Carol.
I wanted to shrug, and perhaps it was the best time to, because Aunt Carol was looking at Momma now.
They were communicating the way the Messengers do. Like someone (me) wouldn’t see them and wouldn’t get whatever they were talking about was awful important, otherwise words would be coming outta their mouths.
“And?” Momma said.
“And nothing,” I said. “Like I told you, Momma.” I gave them both a trembly smile. What was wrong with me? I was okay not having a Messenger Gift. Who cared? “Looks like I lucked out. Ain’t nothing but a thing.”
“Hurry it up, Aunt Carol,” Momma said. Her face changed from concerned to super concerned. Like she had realized something big. And then, “Can I borrow your cell phone, Evie?”
Just like that my hands started shaking. “Quit trying to scare me,” I said, and retrieved the phone from my pocket. I handed it over to Momma. Don’t ask me why she doesn’t have a phone of her own. It’s her goal to be the only person in the world to not have one. Up till this morning, there were two of us.
“You know all this,” I said. “You and Aunt Odie went on forever about it this morning.”
Momma didn’t answer.
Aunt Carol went back to working on my face. She was silent now. Listening in on Momma, no doubt. I was too.
The salon felt all the sudden hot and sticky. I wanted to throw the apron aside and go stand in front of the air conditioner. Would that mess up my straightened hair? Why was that little lady talking so much to Maggie Moo? And what was Momma finding out, anyway?
After a long minute Momma said, kinda loud, “We all got Gifts, Evie. Every one of us. Some more powerful than others.” Then she glanced at me and Aunt Carol in the mirror and left the shop so she could make her call in private.