The next morning, I arrived for work forty-five minutes late.
“You’re not turning into No-Good Crystal, are you?” Gia demanded to know.
“I’m not!” I promised. “My ride left without me! I’m so sorry!”
I’d woken up for work that morning to find both parents—and even more oddly, both cars—gone. Frank and Kathy had not only left earlier than usual, but in separate vehicles. I didn’t know if they were passive-aggressively punishing me for not delivering The Broadway Album or what. And if I weren’t so pissed at them, I might have called into Worthy Orthodontics and Pediatric Dentistry to find out what was going on. But I was pissed, so I didn’t.
“It won’t happen again,” I promised.
“I know it won’t,” Gia replied.
Drea stopped pretending to fold lace camisoles and motioned for me to follow her to the back office. Rey Ajedrez, Lustig Zeit, and Pieds D’Abord sat on the velvet couch, waiting for us with open arms.
“Should we hit Feet First on our lunch break?” I asked.
Drea picked up Pieds and sat between Rey and Lustig. I turned on the computer and prepared to address the stack of invoices that had come in since the day before.
“I don’t need your help getting in and out of the orthopedic shoe store,” she said. “But you need my help getting laid.”
“Drea!”
Sometimes my own prudishness took me by surprise. Drea reacted accordingly.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She placed her hands over Rey’s plastic ears. “Not in front of the children.”
“Drea! I do not need to get laid!”
She calmly walked behind the desk and pried an envelope out of my white-knuckled grip.
“You’re right,” she said. “You are totally chill and not at all in need of a release of eighteen years’ worth of repressed sexual tension.”
“Seventeen,” I corrected her. “And I am not repressed.”
“Oh, right.” Drea rolled her eyes. “How could I have forgotten you skipped a grade?”
Seriously, how could she have forgotten? Drea was preternaturally mature for her age. But the extra year she had on me widened the pubescent chasm between us. I remembered a trip we took to the mall when we were in sixth grade, watching in shock as Drea shopped—boldly, shamelessly—for underwire bras at Macy’s and tampons at Woolworths. At the time, I wore Wonder Woman Underoos and was still three summers away from my first period.
“Even your earlobes are clenched.”
I instinctively touched them to see if Drea was right and immediately felt like an idiot for doing so.
“I am not repressed,” I repeated for lack of a better argument.
“Prove it,” Drea said. “Go to the Cabbage Patch with Slade tonight.”
“Slade? Slade Johnson?” My legs buckled, and I sank into the throne that served as my office chair. “You think I’m going to hook up with Slade because you dared me to?”
“No,” Drea replied. “You’re going to hook up with Slade because it will make Troy insanely jealous to see you’ve moved on with someone so much hotter than he is.”
I had to admit that I liked the sound of this revenge in theory, even if I couldn’t actually picture myself getting physical with Slade Johnson.
“If I agree to ask Slade to the Cabbage Patch tonight, do you promise to leave me alone for the rest of my shift so I can actually concentrate on getting some work done?” I was already almost an hour behind at that point, and I really hated the idea of letting Gia down. My irrational fear of disappointing authority figures was a key to my academic success.
Drea held up Pieds D’Abord’s little stuffed hand.
“We promise,” she said.
So I agreed to ask. But I couldn’t guarantee Slade would say yes. Despite his flirty overtures at the last Cabbage Patch Party, I was certain he’d laugh me right out of Surf*Snow*Skate. Drea, however, did deliver on her promise, though her absence might have had more to do with the high volume of customers taking advantage of half-priced “Cruise and Cabana,” which I had learned was boutique speak for swimsuits and cover-ups. I more than made up for my lateness by bringing Bellarosa’s accounting totally up-to-date on the computer, an achievement I was eager to share with my boss. I was pleasantly surprised to find that despite No-Good Crystal’s lackadaisical work ethic, the store was very solidly in the black.
“Why should that surprise you?” Gia countered upon hearing my report.
I was shaken by her caustic tone. I’d heard her speak to Drea that way, but she’d never used it with me.
“W-well,” I stammered, “I’ve never shopped here, so…”
“So what? You assumed no one else did either?”
“Um…?”
From the sour look on Gia’s face, it was clear I had achieved the very opposite of the approval I had sought.
“Look, hon. I’ve been running this business for seven years now. I must be doing something right.”
Before I could apologize for the misunderstanding, Gia turned on her spiked heel and walked out of the office just as Drea sashayed in.
“Before you head to Surf*Snow*Skate!”
She shook a hanger at me.
“Nonononononono…” I objected.
“Seriously, unclench.” Drea yanked my earlobe. “I picked this outfit especially for you.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Drea brushed off my comment with utmost professionalism. She pressed a denim skirt against my waist.
“See? This isn’t any higher than your jean shorts,” she said. “But it’s a better option because boys like skirts.”
“Why do boys like skirts?”
Drea did not dignify my ignorance with a reply.
She held up a cream-colored top with a black satin ribbon woven in and out and around the collar.
“This is basically a T-shirt, just like the one you’re wearing,” she said. “But you can adjust the tie around the neck so it’s almost off the shoulder but not quite.”
She coaxed me in front of the mirror. Just draped in front of me and not actually on me, I could see for myself that this was probably the most flattering outfit I’d ever worn.
“I thought you’d feel more confident showing collarbone, not cleavage.”
“Thank you, Drea,” I said, meaning it. “These picks are perfect.”
Drea headed to the supply closet and returned with a purple can of Aussie Mega Hairspray in one hand and two combs in the other.
“You know what would be really perfect? If you let me add just a little height…”
My bangs fell straight across my forehead. Drea’s bangs rose six inches above her eyebrows. Even if we compromised somewhere in the middle, three inches of bang would still be too teased for me.
“Ummm…” I pointed to the clock. “Aren’t we running out of time?”
“There’s always time for lipstick.” She dashed to the closet and came back with a tube of Revlon in Wild Rose.
“Is this too pastel for my complexion?” The pearlescent pink was not what I expected. “The girl at the Macy’s cosmetics counter said I was a spring…”
“With your light brown hair and hazel eyes?” Drea blew a raspberry in contempt. “The idiot doesn’t know what she’s talking about. You’re a summer stunner, sweetheart!”
I turned to the mirror and couldn’t believe what I saw. Drea was right: I was a summer stunner. Now all I had to do was prove it.
To Slade.
To Troy.
But most of all to myself.