“Your birthday is coming up next weekend,” said Mrs. Daniel over dinner, as if Dyamonde weren’t counting down the days. “I was wondering if you’d thought about what you’d like to do on Saturday to celebrate, where you’d like to—”
“Coney Island!” said Dyamonde.
“Well,” said Mrs. Daniel, “that was easy.”
“And can I bring Free and Damaris? Please, please, please?”
Mrs. Daniel smiled. “I’ll give their parents a call.”
Dyamonde bounced up and down on her chair, too excited to speak.
At ten o’clock Saturday morning, the foursome set foot on the Coney Island boardwalk. The minute they were there, Dyamonde remembered the Coney Island fun-house mirrors.
That’s it! thought Dyamonde. If Damaris looks at herself in all those different mirrors, maybe she’ll understand that there are different ways of seeing herself and they’re not all real. Anyway, it’s worth a try. I’ll take her by the mirrors later.
The first thing Dyamonde did was to make a dash for the carousel. Free called it a baby ride, but Dyamonde didn’t care. She loved it, and so did Damaris. The Ferris wheel came next, then the roller coaster. Free and Dyamonde braved that alone, leaving Damaris and Mrs. Daniel waving to them from the ground. All that riding in circles and screaming their lungs out on the roller coaster made everyone hungry. Dyamonde’s mom told her she could have whatever she wanted.
“It is your birthday,” said Mrs. Daniel.
They all bought Nathan’s hot dogs and washed them down with cola. Free ate ice cream for dessert, but Dyamonde chose cotton candy. Damaris skipped dessert altogether, choosing to sip some lemonade instead.
“I can have ice cream any old time,” said Dyamonde. “But cotton candy is special—like my birthday.”
Dyamonde enjoyed every mouthful of her sticky treat, especially the way it melted on her tongue.
“Yum!” said Dyamonde. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“Oh yeah? Well, my ice cream is chocolaty, super yummy, mm-mm good,” said Free.
“Not as scrumptious as my melty pink cloud of deliciousness,” said Dyamonde. She tore off a big piece of it and hummed as it disappeared on her tongue.
“Whatever,” said Free. “I bet I’ll finish mine first.”
“Suit yourself,” said Dyamonde. “I don’t get cotton candy every day, so I’m taking my sweet time.”
“Hey! That’s good. Cotton candy, sweet time. Very punny!”
“Don’t you mean funny?” said Dyamonde. “As in, you think you’re so funny?”
“Ha, ha, ha,” said Free between licks. “Just forget it.”
Damaris laughed at them both, then sipped the last of her lemonade.
When they were done eating, Free’s attention turned to the beach.
“Last one in the water is a rotten egg!” said Free.
As if on cue, Dyamonde, Damaris and Free started race walking to the steps that led down to the beach.
At the bottom of the stairs, they shimmied out of the clothes covering their bathing suits and slipped off their sandals. The second their toes hit the sand, they took off, dodging beach umbrellas and picnic blankets, running toward the waves as they broke on the shore.
Damaris splashed around for a few minutes, then climbed out of the water.
“Hey!” said Dyamonde, splashing around in the cool water. “I can’t believe you’re leaving already!”
“I’ve had enough for now,” said Damaris.
“Oh, man!” said Free. “I could stay in here forever.”
“Me too,” said Dyamonde. She watched Damaris bend down to pick up shells.
She’s getting way too thin, thought Dyamonde. I have to say something, but not with Free around. Maybe this would be a good time to find those fun-house mirrors.
Dyamonde waded over to Damaris. “My skin is getting all wrinkly,” she said. “I want to go back up on the boardwalk for a while. Want to come?”
“Okay,” said Damaris.
“Hey!” said Free when he saw the girls leaving the beach. “Where’re you going?”
“It’s girls’ stuff!” Dyamonde yelled. “We won’t be gone long.”
Free shrugged and dove back into the waves. Mrs. Daniel stayed behind to watch him.
Strolling on the boardwalk, Dyamonde took Damaris right to the Coney Island Museum. When Dyamonde saw all the fun-house mirrors, she squealed.
“Look at me! Look at me!” she said, posing and making faces in front of one of the mirrors. Damaris looked at her friend’s reflection in the mirror and laughed. Dyamonde looked ten feet tall, and thin as paper.
“Now look at me!” said Dyamonde, jumping in front of the second mirror. This time, Dyamonde looked short and fat, like one of the round Munchkins in The Wizard of Oz.
Damaris laughed at that reflection too.
“Now it’s your turn,” said Dyamonde, nudging her friend to stand in front of the first mirror. “Is that the real Damaris?”
“No!” said Damaris, giggling.
Next, Dyamonde led her friend to stand in front of the second mirror. “Is this the real Damaris?” asked Dyamonde.
Then Dyamonde locked arms with Damaris and walked her over to the third mirror, which was regular.
“That’s the real Damaris,” said Dyamonde in a soft voice. “Not super tall and super skinny. Not extra short and fat. The real Damaris is somewhere in the middle, and all you have to do to see her is to look in the right mirror.”
Dyamonde was quiet for a moment, letting her words sink in.
“Those kids at school,” said Dyamonde. “You can’t listen to them, Damaris. They’re all looking in the wrong mirror. Okay?”
Damaris gave her friend an embarrassed smile.
Damaris nodded in silence. Then she gave Dyamonde a tight squeeze.
