CHAPTER 13
Faking Friends
You know that scene in The Wizard of Oz when Dorothy steps out of her old black-and-white house and everything around her is in color? That’s how I felt stepping into Hailey Joanne’s bedroom. I’d never seen a room like that, not even in the movies. It was filled with light. The pink-and-silver pattern on the wallpaper made the whole room glisten. We removed our shoes at the door, because the carpet was long, fluffy, and white, like an Angora cat. (That’s right, a white carpet in a kid’s room!) Her bed was circular, up on a platform, and surrounded by a cloud of pink sheer curtains. All of the furniture was mirrored, which made the ginormous room look even ginormouser. I knew ginormouser wasn’t a word, but a room like that deserves its own language.
“Outstanding! I love it,” Hailey Joanne cheered, clapping her hands and spinning around herself. “I love to see the looks on girls’ faces when they first walk into my room. Pretty spectac, huh?”
I nodded. “It sure is.”
“Father had it duplicated from a real princess’s boudoir he saw in Dubai. Come on, my stylist is meeting us in my dressing room.”
I followed her through frosted-glass double doors into a dressing room almost as large as the bedroom and really fancy. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined all the walls except for the glass showcase closets holding legions of dresses, pants, blouses, sweaters, shoes, handbags—enough clothing and accessories to fill two or three boutiques. There were pink velvet chairs, a pink carpet, and a pink crystal chandelier hanging from the domed ceiling. I felt like I was inside a jewelry box.
I was feeling light-headed. Surrounded by so much luxury, I was about to hyperventilate when I noticed, standing alongside a clothing rack, a tall, X-ray-thin woman wearing an outfit that would have looked better on her granddaughter. This was Tessica, the stylist. She zipped across the room and air-kissed Hailey Joanne while leading her to a rack of garment bags. I was so completely ignored that I checked my reflection in the surrounding mirrors to make sure I was actually there.
Tessica unzipped dress bags to display full-length gowns, shimmering pantsuits, and cocktail dresses. These were the kinds of clothes movie stars wore on red carpets. Hailey Joanne, finger on her chin, perused the collection very casually. If she wrinkled her nose and shook her head, Tessica pushed the dress away and moved on to the next. If Hailey Joanne moved her head from side to side and shrugged, Tessica pulled out that outfit and hung it on another rack that I assumed was for the clothes Hailey Joanne would eventually try on.
Tessica displayed a high-collared, sleeveless, red minidress covered in bugle beads. “Vintage Halston, cupcake,” she said in a voice that sounded like it got stuck in a blender set to “chop.” “It doesn’t get any better than this!”
Hailey Joanne gasped, hand over her mouth. “Mango would look fabulous in this!”
The stylist frowned, making her wrinkles all the more prominent. “Mango? Who’s that?”
When Hailey Joanne pointed to me. Tessica acted as if she hadn’t even known I was in the room. “Oh, you! Are you looking to buy a dress, too?”
“Um. Not exactly.”
“Of course you are,” Hailey Joanne said, taking the dress from Tessica and heading toward me. “You’re the star of our school play; you have to dress the part.” Gripping my arm, she led me to what turned out to be a mirrored door to a dressing room and scooted me in. “Try it on. It’ll look fabulous with those long legs of yours.”
She closed the door before I could protest, and there I was, surrounded by four floor-to-ceiling mirrors and about ten thousand reflections of myself. The dress was very heavy but so, so, so beautiful. It was lined with satin and was sewn so perfectly it took me a while before I found the zipper along the side. What could it hurt to try it on? Just because I tried it on didn’t mean I’d have to buy it.
I hustled out of my jeans and T-shirt and slid into the dress. It was amazing. The lining felt like a cool breeze against my skin. I turned this way and that, admiring myself in the mirror. I sucked in my cheeks and struck poses the way actresses and models do on a red carpet. No wonder they all looked so confident and beautiful; wearing a dress like this, or even just trying it on, made you feel like a zillion bucks. I was losing myself in a fantasy of flashing lights, surrounded by photographers calling out my name. “Mango, over here!” “Hey, Mango, give us a smile, darling?” “Oh, yes, perfect!” The next day my picture would be all over the society and gossip blogs, and I’d be trending on all the fashion websites.
My reverie was interrupted by a knock at the door. It was Tessica. “Mongo? Come on out, biscuit, if you’re dressed.”
Mongo? Biscuit? Seriously? Was she trying to diss me? She probably couldn’t hear very well, what with her advanced age and all the rattling bangles she wore on her stick arms. I opened the door and stepped out. Tessica guided me to the center of the room, and then walked around me as if appraising a piece of furniture in a showroom. “Amazing. It’s as if it were designed and altered to fit you perfectly. Is it too heavy?”
“Not really. I mean, it felt heavier when I was holding it, but now that it’s on—”
“That’s the sign of a great designer. You must buy this dress!”
Another door opened, and Hailey Joanne stepped out of her dressing room wearing a peach-colored, sequined dress that fit her like a second skin. She was very well developed for her age, or any age, with the kind of figure that made girls lime-green with envy. The way that dress showed off her shape let girls like me know that there was no competition when it came to who the reigning queen of the school was. It seemed as though we were mirroring each other the way both our mouths dropped open when we saw one another.
“Outstanding!” Hailey Joanne exclaimed.
“Me? You! You look like … like … some kind of mermaid princess.” We grabbed each other’s hands and shimmied in our glittering couture.
Hailey Joanne said, “Mango, you just have to wear that dress to my party.”
I let go of her hand and stepped back as all of the air whizzed out of the room. “I can’t. There is no way I can afford this.”
Tessica wrinkled her brow to the point that she looked like the parchment the Declaration of Independence was written on. “Why not? Why did you come to a private showing if you’re concerned about money?”
“Tessica!” Hailey Joanne scolded. “I invited her. She’s my best friend. Her family doesn’t … well, her father has a restaurant or something, but they’re not rich.”
Tessica’s eyes narrowed. “Which restaurant does your father own? Have I heard of it? Have I been there?” She was examining me closely, and I felt like an ant caught under a magnifying glass in the blazing sun. I was afraid my armpits would start to sweat at any minute and ruin the satin lining of the dress.
Still, I didn’t want to lie, so I decided to clear things up. “My father doesn’t own a restaurant. He is a chef. At least he was until he lost his job recently. Now he’s a caterer.”
Hailey Joanne’s perfectly plucked eyebrows arched. “A caterer? Really? Is he booked? Would he be too busy to do my party?”
I couldn’t believe she was asking me what I had come to ask her. I was beginning to hyperventilate again and felt a trickle of sweat under my armpit.
Hailey Joanne moved nose to nose with me and said, “Listen, if you can get your father to cancel whatever else he is booked to do and cater my party, I will see to it that you get to wear this dress.”
“What? Really?”
She held up her right hand and said, “Pinkey swear!” Normally when someone says “pinky swear,” you twist your two pinkies together to seal the deal, but when I held my pinky up, Hailey Joanne looked at me as if I were odd. So I dropped my pinky and then realized she said it because her name was Pinkey.
“Well, I guess I can call home and ask him.”
Hailey Joanne started to drag me out of the room, but Tessica stopped her and made us change out of the dresses before we left her sight. Everything after that was sort of a blur, but one thing was clear: after a phone interview with Mrs. Pinkey (she remembered Dada from the great job he did catering her anniversary when he worked at Minelli’s), he got the job catering the birthday party. I had the contract in my backpack. I was a hero. And I would get to wear that amazing red, beaded, vintage Halston dress to the party. Maybe faking friends with Hailey Joanne wouldn’t turn out to be so bad after all.