Chapter 11

“But I confess they would have no charms for me. I should infinitely prefer a book.”

— Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, Volume II, Chapter Sixteen

As Jane swung past the south side of the Mall of America on her way to the west ramp, I glanced up at the huge sign on the building and felt my stomach clench. What was so wrong with me that it needed fixing at the Mall of America? My pathological tendency to barf on roller coasters? My yearning for the comfort of a faded pair of overalls?

“C’mon, Mar— I mean, MB.” Jane held the door open. I finally noticed that we’d parked, and she and Liz had already gotten out. In fact, Liz was halfway to the entrance.

Shrugging, I climbed out of the back seat and trudged toward the mall, straggling behind Jane.

She turned around to signal me to move faster. “It won’t be as bad as you think. Really. You like your new clothes, remember?”

My memory wasn’t quite as good as hers on that point, but I sped up. On top of everything else, I didn’t need Jane and Liz ditching me at the mall. Jane waited for me at the entrance, but Liz was nowhere in sight.

“I thought we’d do a little shopping, grab some lunch, and then see about your hair.” Jane studied my head until I flinched. “While we’re shopping, we can talk about what you’d like to do with your hair.”

Jane wears her blond hair in a chin-length bob, which would look stupid on me but of course looks perfect on her. Everything looks perfect on Jane, and I don’t think she even tries that hard. Liz has longer brown hair more like mine—except that mine is thinner and mousier and always looks too shiny, almost greasy, even in a ponytail. All the shampoo in the world didn’t help. I privately thought it was yet another crime Jane Austen had committed against me.

I touched my ponytail. “I’m not sure what I want to do with my hair. It’s hopeless.”

“Nothing is hopeless, least of all you.”

Jane kept saying all these nice things the last week or so, but a petty part of me couldn’t help wondering where she’d been during the seventeen years before that.

“Are you two coming?” Liz reappeared, toting a Diet Coke. The sight triggered a flashback of Josh that day he brought me a large cup of Diet Coke in the amusement park.

Josh. I sighed.

Jane eyed Liz’s Diet Coke. “Gee, thanks for the Diet Coke. But why do I see only one? Aren’t you two planning on getting one?”

“Ha ha.” Liz took a huge slurp for our benefit. “You’re right; I should’ve gotten you guys one. It’s such a pain in the butt finding something other than Pepsi here, and I was so busy getting annoyed that I forgot you.”

Liz forgot me whether or not she was annoyed. But—

“What do you mean, it’s hard to find?”

“Almost impossible. I think I’ve found a whopping three places in this entire mall that sell Coke products, and that’s only after extensive research.”

Jane laughed, shaking her head, and reached for Liz’s Diet Coke. Liz whipped it away from her, whooping as she did.

I frowned. I was also getting thirsty. “Josh bought me one. In the amusement park that day.”

“Well, raise the flag.”

“Liz!” Jane frowned at her before turning to me. “In the amusement park? There’s only Pepsi there.”

“But it’s huge.”

“Huge and filled with Pepsi products. Only Pepsi products. Does Josh happen to know you like Diet Coke?”

He didn’t even like me. “It must’ve been a lucky guess.”

Liz shook her head. “Guys don’t usually notice things like that. Maybe he likes Coke. Or Diet Coke.”

I tried to picture what he drank at lunch in the cafeteria. Milk? I had no idea. He’d only sat with me twice, and I’d mostly ignored him.

I’d been acting like a guy, apparently.

Jane looked interested. “But maybe he likes Mary—I mean, MB—more than he likes Coke products.”

“And runs all over this huge mall just to find her a Diet Coke.” Liz snorted. “Sorry, but I doubt it. Especially since she claims they weren’t on a date.”

“We weren’t!”

Jane lifted one eyebrow. “When you’re first getting to know a guy, you don’t necessarily call it a date.”

“Yeah, you call it making out.”

“Liz!”

Jane whapped Liz’s arm, and Liz playfully slugged her back, but I stayed out of the line of fire. Playfully or not, Liz packed a punch. I also couldn’t get used to the easy banter between Jane and Liz, even though I’d seen snatches of it all my life. Even when they disagreed—which was often, since they were so different—they had fun together. I didn’t have anyone like that in my life. I suspected I never would.

I cleared my throat. “Are we going to covet Liz’s Diet Coke all day, or are we going shopping?”

Jane grabbed my arm. “I thought you’d never ask.”

The critical moment was upon me.

“Bangs? Or no bangs?”

“You’d look good in bangs, MB.” Next to Liz, Jane hovered behind my hairdresser, Norman, annoying the crap out of him as far as I could tell.

“You’re fine without bangs.” Liz folded her arms and tilted her head, studying me in the mirror’s reflection.

Of course, Liz didn’t wear bangs, and she generally thought that what was good for her was good for everyone else. Except Jane. Even Liz wouldn’t dare mess with Jane’s looks the way they both messed with mine on our day’s shopping adventure, costing me big bucks and bigger exasperation.

I looked in the mirror. Instead of long, wet hair, I saw a rag doll being yanked on both arms by Jane and Liz. I tried to picture bangs. I kept seeing the eight-year-old girl I’d been, with bangs and without a clue about the lousy destiny I’d been given. In short, relatively happy.

“Bangs.”

If nothing else, it would annoy Liz.

Jane clapped her hands. Sure enough, Liz slapped her. Norman shooed both of them out to the waiting area.

Half an hour later, I rejoined them. Jane stared at me as if she didn’t recognize me. “MB?”

Liz blinked. “Mary?”

Jane slapped Liz. “She wants to be called MB.”

Actually, I wasn’t sure I did anymore. Could the mildly cute girl I saw in the mirror a minute ago be named MB? For that matter, was she still Mary Bennet? Was she someone who would even talk to Mary Bennet? Was she still me?

Liz recovered first. “Whatever you want to be called, you look good.” She whistled. “Hot.”

“I am not hot.” Lukewarm, maybe. And starting to flush.

Jane patted my arm. “My advice? Take the compliment. Liz doesn’t give too many of them.”

Liz swatted Jane’s butt.

“See what I mean?” Jane led me past the reception desk, where she’d already paid for my haircut. Her treat. “Liz isn’t fit for decent society.”

Liz rolled her eyes, then nodded at me. “You do look good. Really. You were right about the bangs, and your hair even flips up a little when it’s shoulder length. I wish I could get my hair to do that.”

I fluttered a tentative hand through the ends of my hair, not recognizing myself. “I’m not sure whether my hair does that naturally, or if Norman did it.”

“Well, Josh is going to go nuts over the new look.”

“I don’t want Josh to—”

Jane put a restraining hand on Liz. “That’s not what this is about. Josh has been a complete jerk to MB.”

“Maybe not a complete jerk. Just mostly.” I think.

“You said he annoyed you. You said everyone annoyed you.”

Liz put a hand to her heart. “Even us?”

“Probably especially the two of us, after we dragged her shopping and then to a hairdresser.”

“We rescued her from Mom’s clutches.”

I froze, trying to imagine Mom’s reaction when we got home. She’d probably still be pissed about me not playing piano, and now she’d be pissed about me getting my hair cut without her permission. Even though I’d be turning eighteen in two weeks and, if I had anything to say about it, gone from our house forever a year from now.

Jane patted me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about Mom’s reaction. She’ll love your hair. Maybe she’ll even forget about the piano.”

Liz piped in. “Yeah, she’ll probably just spank you a few times, and that’s the end of it.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “So she’ll act like you?”

“You got that right.” And she swatted me. On the butt.

“Jane! What did you do to Mary?”

Jane, who never got blamed for anything, froze by the front door. Liz slipped past her and escaped upstairs, and I tried to follow.

“Don’t even think about leaving.” Mom shot me her best courtroom glare. She probably terrified her own clients. “I have a few things to say to you.”

Dad straightened up from warrior pose, his knees creaking a bit, and took a step toward me. I quivered slightly even though Jane was right next to me, propping me up, and Dad actually had a smile on his lips.

He glanced over his shoulder at Mom, who—despite claiming to be back on Atkins—was wiping what looked suspiciously like chocolate frosting off her mouth. Then Dad looked back at me and smiled more broadly. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked at me like that. Probably before I’d thrown up on him on the roller coaster at age ten.

“I think what you mean to say, my dear, is that Mary has a very nice new haircut.”

“Yes, well, I—”

“And she’s wearing a nice new outfit.”

“Howard . . .”

Jane had bribed me with a Cinnabon if I’d stuff my overalls in my shopping bag and wear my new top and khaki shorts from American Eagle home, along with my new Birkenstock sandals. As it turns out, I’m susceptible to bribes.

Dad went on in the face of Mom’s sputtering. “And it really doesn’t matter if she stops playing piano.”

The sputtering stopped. Mom stepped closer, hands on her hips. “I am not agreeing to that.”

I took a step backward, but I felt Jane’s hand against the small of my back, almost supplying me with a spine. “I can stop if I want to. And I want to.”

Mom just glared at me. Jane’s hand kept pressing against me, a bit harder now, and I lurched forward.

Dad held out a hand. “Now, now, there’s no need to launch yourself at your mother.”

“I wasn’t launching—”

“But perhaps you should explain to your mother, as you did to me, your reasons for wanting to quit playing piano.”

I didn’t remember giving Dad any reasons. Once I mentioned the electric guitar, he started laughing, ending the discussion.

“You mentioned that your sisters didn’t have to play, except Liz, and even Liz quit by your age.”

Okay, so I had said that. But it sounded a little whiny and pathetic coming out of Dad’s mouth. Had I given him any other reasons? Any better ones?

As if he heard me, Dad started ticking my so-called reasons off on his fingers. “And it’s your senior year of high school, when you need to be focusing on your college search.”

I snorted, and Jane poked me in the back. But geez. Anyone in this family with half a brain knew there was no point in college searches. Dad’s mid-life yoga crisis, along with investing all his money with a notorious scam artist, had put an end to that. At this point, only Ms. Kieran was still holding out hope, but she probably didn’t have much else to do with her days, stuck in the media center with a bunch of hormone-crazed slackers.

Dad ignored my raised eyebrows. “And you mentioned wanting to get a few other activities on your résumé.”

My jaw dropped.

For all of Dad’s enlightenment—courtesy of Deepak Chopra and the hours he spent navel-gazing in the middle of a yoga mat—the guy was normally as obtuse as the next dad, but I didn’t have a clue where he was going now.

I remember the day he told Mom that Lydia would be going to an elite boarding school in Montana—as opposed to reform school, where she actually went—so maybe he was just blowing smoke at Mom again. In Lydia’s case, I think he wanted to keep Mom from killing him. In my case? No clue.

The crease running down the middle of Mom’s forehead could rival the Grand Canyon. Okay, exaggeration, but Mr. Skamser had talked about the appropriate use of hyperbole just yesterday, and Mom always inspired a good fit of hyperbole.

“Is that true, Mary? Your father isn’t talking about electric guitar again, is he?”

Dad made a sign of the cross on his chest.

“Uh . . .”

Jane’s knuckles left my back as she took a step forward. “Now, here’s something interesting. Did you know that Mary wants to be called MB? And not Mary?”

Dad’s lips twitched, which didn’t exactly seem like a normal reaction, but Mom looked bug-eyed. And possibly apoplectic.

“MB? MB isn’t a girl’s name, and I didn’t name her MB! Her name is Mary, and you’re just trying to distract me.” It was actually a bit surprising that she realized it. “You know perfectly well that I gave each of you girls very specific names, and those are the names we use.”

“Like Liz?” Jane smiled sweetly at Mom.

“Elizabeth is a bit long, I admit. But the rest of you—”

“Or Cat?” Dad put his arm around Mom. The entire cavalry had rolled in, ready and willing to distract Mom for my sake, which was beyond weird.

“Well, Kitty didn’t exactly—”

“Kitty?” Dad pushed his glasses higher on his nose, reminding me of me. “Didn’t you mean Catherine?”

“Kitty— I mean, Cat— I mean—” Mom kept sputtering, finally throwing both hands in the air. “You know perfectly well what I mean.”

“Yes, we all do, my dear. You named our girls after the daughters in Pride and Prejudice, much to the horror of all of our daughters.” Dad bit off a grin. “Except perhaps for Cat and Lydia. I’m not sure that either one has yet read the book or, for that matter, is aware it exists.”

Dad shook his head, totally overplaying his hand. Was it even possible that Cat and Lydia hadn’t read The Book? Even if their English teachers hadn’t assigned it yet, how could they remain blissfully ignorant of the one thing in the world that affected all of our lives more than anything else?

But we were talking about Cat and Lydia. It was possible.

Mom shook her finger at Dad. “Howard, I can’t believe you’re making fun of your very own daughters, especially when they’re not here to defend themselves. Oh, Lydia! Poor girl, she must be miserable so far away from us, even if she is at one of the best schools in the country.”

Good God. Even after a few weeks, Mom was still in the dark about Lydia. Hadn’t Lydia called yet? Didn’t they even give a girl a quarter for a call home?

Dad didn’t crack a smile. “I’m not making fun of them. I’m quite concerned about their study habits, or lack thereof, which makes it all the more surprising that you’re so intent on Mary. Mary has straight A’s.”

Except in Gym class.

Jane nudged me, and I glanced at Mom and Dad, seeing that they were facing off against each other now and hardly seemed to realize we were in the room. Okay, Dad probably did, but he was obviously taking a bullet for me. Willingly, even.

I glanced quickly at Jane, nodded, and we both escaped upstairs as Mom’s voice went up an octave and Dad headed back to his yoga mat. Halfway up the stairs, I turned back to see Mom still screeching and Dad putting earphones on.

He probably wasn’t even playing music.

“You can do it.”

“Nope. Definitely can’t.”

I sat up in bed Monday morning, still in my pj’s and groggy, with most of the new clothes I’d bought still in the shopping bags, wondering why Jane hadn’t left for class yet. Didn’t she have an eight-o’clock class on Monday mornings? Or was that just wishful thinking?

At least I’d left most of the tags on. After school today, before Jane or Liz found out and tried to strangle me, I could return everything except the outfit I wore home on Saturday.

“You wore new clothes once last week.”

I yawned. “And look how that turned out.”

“Actually, I’m not sure how it turned out.” Jane bent down and tapped the bottom of my foot, which seemed like a pretty feeble attempt to get me moving. “You said Josh stared at you.”

“At only one part of me.” Or two, depending on your viewpoint. “And that wasn’t my intention.”

“But he noticed you.”

“Jane, he already noticed me. He noticed me when he asked me to be his Physics partner, and he noticed me even more when I puked all over him.”

Jane smiled, a little annoyingly. “Who was it who said there’s no such thing as bad publicity?”

“An idiot. And barfing on Josh wasn’t publicity. It was sheer humiliation.”

“Which brings me to my next point.”

I heard Liz stomping around in the hall outside my room, her typical morning routine, and stared pointedly at the clock. Jane just stood there, calm, her arms crossed, as if getting me into new clothes was the most important item on her to-do list.

She tapped her foot. “For a smart girl, you’re a little slow. Don’t you get it? No one in school found out that you, er—”

“—barfed. On Josh.”

Jane nodded, looking a little queasy herself. “Right. Josh didn’t tell anyone.”

“How do you know? He dumped me as his Physics partner.”

“Did anyone know he’d been your Physics partner?”

I frowned at her. “You’re the one who doesn’t get it. I barfed on Josh, and he dumped me, and everyone’s been laughing at me ever since.”

“That’s because they’re immature toads.” Jane put her hands on her slim hips. “What you’re missing here is that, even if a few kids happened to laugh at you, they didn’t do it because Josh told them anything. No one knows you barfed on him, or Cat would’ve told us all about it by now. Believe it or not, the guy likes you. At a minimum, he’s not a complete toad.”

I pulled my covers up to my chin but wanted to pull them over my head. Anything to stop Jane. “Our standards are really slipping, aren’t they? So Josh doesn’t blab. Maybe.”

Liz poked her head into my room. “Unless they like a girl, most guys blab. So whatever point Jane is making, listen to her. Actually, stop listening, because Jane doesn’t have time to talk right now.” Liz pointed at her watch, and Jane finally glanced at the clock next to my bed. And screeched.

“Like I said.” Liz turned to me, her sharp gaze skewering me. “And before you even think about returning the clothes we spent all that time shopping for on Saturday, forget it. Jane clipped the tags off yesterday when you were eating breakfast.”

What?

“Liz, I did not!” Jane turned bright red.

“No wonder I had to. Heh heh.” As Liz chuckled, I considered leaping off my bed and dropping her to the floor. Even though she’d kill me. “As it turns out, you and I think more alike than you knew. Scary, huh?”

I shuddered.

Jane nodded sympathetically. “I can’t blame you for wanting to kill her, MB, but she’s right. Besides, you can’t hide your new haircut. You might as well wear the new clothes and take this all the way.”

All the way where? Straight to hell?

My hands flew to my hair, checking to make sure it was still there. It . . . wasn’t. Thanks to my lifelong aversion to mirrors, I kept forgetting what I’d done to myself on Saturday. Tags or not, the clothes weren’t permanent. The haircut was.

Liz grabbed Jane by the arm and started dragging her out of the room. “I didn’t throw away your overalls, if that’s your next question, although I considered it. I do have some decency.”

For once, even Jane snorted.