Beauty (3 page)

“I’ll take …” Hudson trailed off as he looked over the array of stuffed animals. There was one that was definitely the cutest, a big stuffed monkey wearing glasses and a top hat.

“The monkey,” Hudson decided.

“Let’s go,” Kemper said next to me. “Burgnuts always leave me with a serious craving for All Things Fried.” She nudged me in the side, but I signaled for her to hold on. Because Hudson had taken his monkey and was now heading right in my direction.

“You should have this,” he said. He smiled that half-smile again, and my heart twisted even more. “You’re too beautiful to go home without a prize.”

He paused and I felt a smile spreading across my face, the kind I couldn’t control even if I wanted to. “Thanks—” I started to say, just as Ashley Coolidge stepped out from somewhere behind me.

“It’s so cute, Hudson!” she squealed, taking the monkey and hugging it to her.

He’d been talking to Ashley. Not me.

I felt my face burn bright red as Ashley shot me a dirty look. I knew I should get out of there—run, even, to safety—but I couldn’t. I felt frozen in place, watching as Ashley leaned forward and kissed Hudson on the cheek. She really was beautiful. Her hair was long and silky, so blonde it reminded me of a cloud. Her eyes were big and light blue, like the sky on a midsummer day. Her skin was clear, her dress clung perfectly to her curves, and she was that just-right height: not too tall, not too short. When she tossed her hair and smiled, there wasn’t a guy in the world who wouldn’t smile back.

I wondered what it would be like to be that beautiful. To be like the Yellow Tang fish, so much brighter and better than all the goldfish in the pond, everyone vying just for you. I bet it would feel like you could do no wrong. Like every move you made was protected by some higher law of beauty. Like you could have anything at all. Even Hudson Taylor.

“Come on, Mol.” Kemper tugged softly on my arm, and from the look on her face, I could tell she’d seen the whole thing. She pulled me away, beckoning to Hayley. Hayley kept her head down as she followed us. She looked embarrassed, and I realized with a pang that she was embarrassed of me.

“Was it obvious?” I whispered to Kemper.

Kemper shook her head. “Not at all,” she assured me. “Don’t worry about it.” She glanced to Hayley for back up, but Hayley remained quiet, her head still down.

“Anyway,” Kemper said, her mouth tightening as she turned back to me. “It’s way past time for fried Oreos.” She kept up a steady chatter as we walked to the All Things Fried booth, but all I could hear were Hudson’s words, like they were stuck on repeat in my head.
You’re too beautiful to go home without a prize.

How could I have ever thought he was talking to me? I’d looked in the mirror before the game. Those words just didn’t apply. They’d never apply. “The beast,” Seth had joked. Maybe he wasn’t that far off.

“Want?” Kemper offered me a fried Oreo, but I shook my head. I felt too queasy to eat. “Hayl?” She held the Oreo out to Hayley, but Hayley waved it off.

“Hell
ooo
,” she sniffed. “That’s, like, diet suicide.” I shot Kemper a look. Since when had Hayley started saying things like “hell
ooo
” and “diet suicide”? Kemper shrugged.
Who knows
, she mouthed, before popping another fried Oreo in. I glanced over at Hayley. She was rooting around in her purse for something. Her raisins, I guessed. But then her hands fell on something small and rectangular, and she quickly angled her back to me, ducking her head to look at whatever it was. Was it a book? I craned my neck to get a better view, but her back completely blocked my sight.

“Look who it is.” At the sound of Ashley Coolidge’s voice, Hayley dropped whatever it was with a start and whirled around to face her.

“Hi Ashley!” she exclaimed, suddenly as chipper as could be.

Ashley was flanked by her usual trio, and she was holding her new monkey out in front of her, like it was a medal instead of a stuffed animal. “Like my monkey?” she said, smiling coolly at me.

“Oh, I, uh …” I stammered. Before I could muster up any real words, Hayley jumped in.

“It’s so cute,” she said eagerly. I held my breath, a small smile creeping onto my face as I waited for the zinger to come. Hayley had always been the most doggedly loyal of the three of us. Snub one of us, you snub her. It was like her unspoken motto. I couldn’t count the number of times she’d stood up for me over the years, talking back to Seth or challenging a teacher or insisting to the movie theater attendant that I’d ordered a large popcorn, not a small. Things might have changed with her lately, but this, at least, was what you could always count on her for.

“And I can’t
believe
Hudson Taylor gave it to you,” Hayley went on. “
And
said you were beautiful! He must really like you.” I kept waiting—the zinger had to be just around the corner—but instead of nailing Ashley, she just smiled sweetly and took a step closer to her, until you almost couldn’t tell if she was with us or with them.

“How funny was that whole thing?” Blair asked, giggling snidely. “Can you believe Molly actually thought Hudson was giving the monkey to
her
?” They all burst out laughing as Blair ran her eyes over me, from my head to my toes.

Hayley’s eyes followed hers, and for a split second they met mine—and I was sure this was going to be it—she was going to stand up for me, spit one of her Hayley comebacks right in their laughing faces. But instead she looked away. “No,” she said slowly, her mouth curling up in disdain. “I really can’t.” Then she joined in laughing and, as several tears sprung to my eyes, I could swear I heard her laugh loudest of all.

A Work of (Frizzy) Art

I DIDN’T STICK around to hear anything else. Kemper was calling for me to hold on, but I didn’t listen, didn’t stop. I just ran. I ran past the Ferris wheel and the Gravitron and the spinning swings. I ran past the carousel and the teacups and the fun house, where a group of juniors were gathered. I knew Hudson would be in that circle, but I didn’t bother looking for him. I just kept running. Right until I ran smack into Seth.

His elbow collided firmly against my stomach as his plate of funnel cake went tumbling to the ground. “Look what you did!” he groaned. “I had to wait in line forever to get that.”

“The Beast strikes again,” Matty joked.

I didn’t bother to respond. Tears were streaming down my face now, and I had to swallow hard to choke back a sob. “Move it,” I mumbled, keeping my head down as I shouldered my way through Seth and his friends.

I heard Seth call out my name as I picked up my pace again, but I didn’t stop for him either. I just kept going, faster and faster, weaving my way through people and rides and games, laughter and voices swirling around me like a storm. I suddenly knew exactly where I wanted to go. The fishpond at the very edge of the fairgrounds. The one place where I could never do any wrong.

There was a crowd outside the burgnut stand, and I had to slow down to push my way through. “Hey!” I felt someone’s hand on my arm. “Molly!”

I looked over to see Josh Wilson, the new guy in our grade, standing next to me. “You okay?” He smiled at me. “You look like you’re running from a stampede.”

“I’m fine,” I said impatiently, avoiding his eyes. The last thing I wanted was to stand around making small talk. Or have some guy I barely knew ask me why I looked like I was attempting to make a river out of my tears.

“You sure?” He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes wide with mock-fear. “No herd of buffalo to worry about?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of someone who looked a whole lot like Hudson heading our way. I shook Josh’s hand off my arm. “I have to go,” I said.

“You’re sure you don’t want a doughnut burger?” Josh asked. His forehead was wrinkling in concern now, which only made me feel worse. “I hear they’re to die for. Literally.” That was just the kind of joke Kemper would make, and normally it would crack me up. But not tonight. “Come on,” Josh said. “I’ll treat.”

“No,” I snapped. Hudson was getting closer. And—my heart thumped in my chest—there was a girl walking next to him. A girl with white-blonde hair and a big monkey tucked into the crook of her arm. I had to get out of there. “See ya,” I mumbled to Josh. Then I took off running again.

My feet were starting to get sore in my Keds, but I didn’t care. My tears were falling freely again, and I just wanted to be far away from it all, from the stares and the snickers and those words:
You’re too beautiful to go home without a prize.
The fishpond was for kids. No one my age would dare be seen there. I knew I’d be safe there.

I was panting a little by the time I cut through the line of bushes separating the pond from the rest of the fairgrounds, but still I sucked in a breath of surprise as I looked around. Everything was different. The pond was still there, but there were no plastic fish floating along inside it, no, WIN EVERY TIME! sign sticking out of the ground, no swarm of kids lining up feverishly for their turn. The whole place was strangely, eerily empty.

Wiping my eyes, I sank down into the grass and pulled my knees to my chest, resting my head on them. I had never felt so alone in my life. I couldn’t go back to the fair and face the laughter. And I couldn’t go home until my ride at nine thirty. All I could do was sit here, beside an empty pond, and let the last hour loop through my head over and over again. I thought of Ashley and Hudson, sharing a burgnut, then riding the Ferris wheel together, the monkey tucked tightly between them. Tears pricked my eyes again. It was so unfair. Why did she get to be her, while I was stuck being me? Who made those decisions? And hadn’t they ever heard of a little thing called
equality
?

“You okay, sweetheart?”

A voice from behind made me twist around in surprise. A woman was sitting behind me, a sketch board set up in front of her and a case of charcoal open in her lap. She was tall and willowy, with hair so red it looked like fire and so long it skimmed her waist. I blinked as I took in her outfit: a fringed leather vest over a colorful patchwork dress. I straightened up quickly, clearing my throat. How had I not noticed her there before?

“I’m fine,” I said quietly. The woman had unusually bright green eyes and she narrowed them at me, as if she was studying a painting. Above her, the branches of a tall tree swayed, its flowers just starting to bud. I shifted awkwardly in place. Who was this woman? And had I really been so upset, so blinded by my tears, that I hadn’t even heard her arrive?

“Hmm,” the woman murmured. Something in the way she cocked her head as she said it told me that she didn’t believe me. “You know, I think I’d like to sketch you,” she said slowly. Her voice was low and soothing, like water running over rocks. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t really …” I paused, searching for an excuse. “Have the money for it,” I finished hastily. It was a lie, but I couldn’t say the truth: that I didn’t even want to look in a
mirror
after my bout of crying, never mind have my portrait painted. This was not exactly a night I wanted to capture on paper.

“It’s okay.” The woman gave me a soft smile. “It’s been a slow night for me. Not much business in this area.” She waved her hand at the emptiness surrounding us. “I’m happy to do it for free.” She paused, her sharp green eyes meeting mine. “Please,” she went on, her voice taking on a persuasive edge. “It would be a favor to me. Really. I could use the practice.”

I looked around. There wasn’t a single other person in sight. It really was me or nobody. “All right,” I said. “But I’m not sure I’d like to see it when it’s done.”

There was a small tube lying on the ground, and the woman tapped it lightly with her foot. She was wearing unusual shoes. They were white with yellow tassels and made out of leather so thin, it almost seemed molded to her feet. “I’ll roll it up in this tube,” she explained. “It’s not good to look at your portrait until you’re home anyway.” She winked at me. “Bad luck, as they say. Now, why don’t you sit right there …” She gestured for me to come closer, pointing to a spot at the edge of the pond. “And we’ll get started.”

She was quiet at first as she began to draw me, gnawing on her lip in concentration as her eyes flitted between me and the paper. Every once in a while, she murmured something not fully audible, but I caught snatches here and there, soft and gentle: “yes” and “of course” and “just like I thought.” I had no idea what she was talking about, but I leaned back on my elbows, letting the sound of her voice wash over me like a wave.

As she continued to murmur, the woman’s hand danced across her easel and her eyes traced my face. I wasn’t used to having someone look right at me like that. So many times I felt like people just looked through me or past me, like I wasn’t really there. But this woman was looking at each part of me—my eyes, my nose, my pimpled chin—like they mattered. Like I mattered. And the weird thing was, it didn’t feel creepy or uncomfortable or even embarrassing. It just felt nice. Like someone was finally really seeing me.