Beauty (32 page)

“What do you
mean
the burgnut—I mean—Krispy Burger booth is gone? That’s what this fair is, like, famous for! How can it just be gone?”

The voice floated over to me, and I straightened up in my spot, surprised. I’d know that voice anywhere. But what was Hayley doing back at the fair? And asking for
burgnuts
no less?

Curious, I squeezed back through the line of bushes separating the fishpond from the rest of the fair. Hayley was standing a few feet away, her back to me as she talked to a woman wearing a red fairgrounds shirt.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said. “What can I tell ya? The fair ends tomorrow. They packed up early.”

“But I need a burgnut!” Hayley put her hands on her hips, sounding desperate.

“There’s funnel cake right over there,” the woman offered.

“No. It can’t be funnel cake. It has to be a burgnut!”

“Well, for that you’re just gonna have to wait ’til next year.”

Hayley threw her hands up in the air in her I’m-about-to-get-angry gesture. “Hayley!” I called out before she could say anything else to the poor woman.

Hayley spun around. “
Molly?
What are you doing here?” She took a few steps toward me, and the woman took the chance to bolt.

“I … um …” I trailed off, not sure what to say. I wasn’t about to tell her the real reason I’d come. Not after everything she’d said about me at the party tonight. “I came to see if … the fishpond had reopened,” I finished weakly. “What about you?”

Hayley narrowed her eyes at me. “I came because I figured it out.” She gave me a pointed look.

“Uh, figured what out?”

“How you got so beautiful!” My heart jumped in my chest as she glowered at me.

“So you know it’s not surgery?”

Hayley rolled her eyes. “Of course I know that.”

“So why did you—?”

“
Oink
oink
?” Hayley said furiously. “
This little piggy
?”

“I’m sorry, Hayley,” I began, but she cut me off.

“It doesn’t matter. Because I realized something tonight, after you left Brandon’s party. This all started the morning after the fair. Which means something
must
have happened to you at the fair, something to make you change like you did. Then, when I saw Josh kissing Kemper at Brandon’s party—”

“Wait,” I interrupted excitedly. “He
kissed
her?”

“Yeah,” Hayley said. “Right in the front yard. For everyone to see. He chose Kemper over
Ashley
.” She shook her head, like she couldn’t believe it. “And that’s when I realized it. Something must have happened to her at the fair too! Something to change you both. So then I started thinking. What did you guys do at the fair that I didn’t?” She snapped her fingers in the air. “And finally, I got it. The burgnuts. You guys both ate the burgnuts, and I didn’t! So I came here to get one. But they’re gone. And now I’ll never get to be beautiful like you.” She sighed, looking so dejected that for a second I felt truly bad for her.

“You don’t need a burgnut for that, Hayley.”

“Ha.” Hayley scoffed. “Just like you didn’t, right? It’s not fair, Molly. I want what you have!”

“You know what’s funny, Hayley? After all this, I’m realizing that beauty isn’t going to get you that.”

“Easy for you to say,” Hayley snapped. “I thought I’d figured out a way to get it all.” She dug into her purse, yanking out the small rectangular book I’d seen her carrying around the last couple of weeks. She waved it angrily through the air. “This book was
supposed
to help me. It was
supposed
to make me popular. But all it did was make things worse!” She threw it with all her might, but it hit a bush, landing only a few feet away.

I went over to pick it up. Across the top in big letters, it said,
Don’t Get Even … Get Popular!
And then underneath:
Shed your image and let your second skin emerge!
By Candi Pop
. I looked up. “What is this, Hayley? Some kind of how-to-get-popular manual?”

Hayley put her hands on her hips, tossing her hair over her shoulders. “Yeah? So?” she said challengingly. “Not all of us got to eat magic burgnuts.”

Ignoring her, I opened up the book to the table of contents, skimming over it.

Chapter One: Dieting

Take dieting to a new level with our uniquely patented diets!

3–6: Get Groovy with Smoothies!

7–10: Look Amazin’ with Raisins!

11–14: Make Them Swoon with Prunes!

Chapter Two: Style

The pinker, the brighter, the tighter—the better!

15–17: The Law of Positive Thinking: If you
believe
you’re a size two, you’ll
be
a size two.

18–20: Sparkle Like a Star with Your New Bedazzler! (One bedazzler included with purchase of book.)

21–23: Beware the D-word (
discount
, of course). Remember: the more you spend, the better you look.

Chapter Three: Like Marky Mark, Make Your Mark!

24–27: Hair: Whether it’s the Rachel haircut or a look of your own creation, your hair should make a statement and mark you as YOU!

28–31: Choose a catch phrase, then use it until it catches on! Some of our favorites include: “Saved by the bell”; “Hell
ooo
”; “All that and a bag of chips”; “Not”; “Take a chill pill”; “You go, girl”; “Cool beans”; And of course any French word, like
passé
or
très
. Read on for more ideas.

32–36: If you don’t make the team, don’t bug out. Just start your own—and make your uniforms so slammin’ that everyone wants to join!

There were more chapter descriptions, but my head was spinning too much to read through them. All the weird stuff Hayley had been doing this year, it had all been because of a
book
? And what kind of book
was
this, anyway? Since when did bedazzling and the Rachel haircut and saying things like “You go, girl!” make you popular? Suddenly I had a thought. I knew when it might have… . I flipped to the book’s copyright page.

“Uh, Hayley …” I said slowly.

“What?” Hayley demanded. “Why do you have that look on your face?”

I held the copyright page out for her to see. “Did you ever stop to think that bedazzling and Marky Mark and saying things like “Take a chill pill” stopped being cool in, well … 1995?” I pointed to the copyright date. “Which just so happens to be when this book was published.”

Hayley snatched the book out of my hand, examining the copyright date. I could almost see the wheels churning in her head as she realized what, exactly, she must have looked like. “You … I … oh … I
knew
that!” she finally burst out. She crossed her arms against her chest, glaring at me. “You just wait, Molly. I don’t need this book anymore. Next year I’m going to eat that burgnut, and then I’ll be the one dating Hudson and becoming prom queen!
I’ll
be the one who has it all, and you’ll be a nobody. Just like you used to be.”

I sighed. It was like she hadn’t heard a word I said. As she teetered uncomfortably in her stiletto boots, I looked at her more closely. She was wearing a sheer pink sweater over a pink tank top and a super-short skirt, which was haphazardly bedazzled with pink rhinestones, like she’d done it in a rush. She’d taken out her braids, leaving her hair messy and crimped, and she had layers of makeup caked onto her face. She was trying so hard to be this person she thought she should be that it was like she’d completely lost track of the person she really was. I thought of the old Hayley, the one who would tell anyone off for me and could make me laugh so hard I cried. As much as I wanted her to be, she wasn’t that person anymore. I shuddered, thinking about how close I’d come to being just like her, willing to be anybody to get what I wanted.

“That’s what you don’t get, Hayley.” I smiled at her sadly, thinking of everything we’d once shared. It was hard to believe it had morphed into this. “I never was a nobody.”

Who Says You Can’t Do a Do-over?

SATURDAY MORNING, I woke up feeling awful. My head was pounding, my stomach was turning, even my skin seemed to ache. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I’d been trampled by an elephant last night. I glanced over at the clock: 10:00 a.m. Only one hour until I was supposed to be on the football field at school, being crowned sophomore queen before the big game. I buried my head in Spaghetti’s back, letting out a groan. There was no way I could show my face at school today. Not after last night. I could almost hear the laughter that would fill the stands as Principal Markoff placed the crown on my head. I was suddenly glad I hadn’t told my parents about today’s crowning. I’d avoided it knowing that they’d want to come see it—which meant they’d have to see me. But now it also meant that there was no one to talk me into going.

“I’m not getting out of bed until nightfall,” I told Spaghetti. He let out a small whimper. “I know it’s not exactly ideal,” I agreed. “But it’s the way it has to be.”

My phone buzzed, and I reached for it automatically. A tiny bit of hope surged in my chest, thinking maybe, just maybe, it was Kemper.

It was Hudson.
Feeling better?
he’d texted.
Hope so, b/c ur about 2 get crowned!

For a second, I let myself imagine what today would be like if Hayley had never brought those flyers to the party yesterday. I’d be on my way to the field, dressed in my hottest Haute outfit, hundreds of students ready to cheer me on as I graciously accepted my crown. I sighed. There was no point in going down that road. It was like a tree had fallen across it last night; it was closed to me now. And besides, if Hayley hadn’t pulled her stunt yesterday, I might never have left the party and then I would never have made up with Hudson. It was strange how that worked, how your life was like a thousand different roads converging and the second you chose one, a tree fell down across the others.

I stared at my phone for a while, trying to decide how to answer Hudson. Finally, I just closed out of the text without replying. I wasn’t going to the game to get crowned, and nothing I could say in a text could explain why. Then, before I could wimp out, I dialed Kemper’s number. All I wanted right now was to talk to a friend—a real friend—but the phone just rang and rang. “Hey, it’s Kemp.” Her voicemail came on. “Leave one.” I sighed, hanging up. I couldn’t believe Kemper and Josh had kissed last night and I hadn’t even heard it from her.

Spaghetti let out another little whimper, and I reached over to stroke his back. “You’re right, Spaghetti,” I murmured. “I shouldn’t give up that easily.” Taking a deep breath, I opened up a text to Kemper.
Please talk to me
, I wrote.
I’m sorrier than a bug in a jar.

Kemper had first used that phrase when we were studying fireflies in the fourth grade. She hated having to trap them in jars, and when our teacher had said she was sorry for making her do it, Kemper had said: “Bet you’re not as sorry as the bug in the jar.” It had stuck after that, becoming her favorite apology, the one she used when she really, truly meant it. Maybe it would make her understand just how much I meant it.

Dropping my phone next to me, I let my head collapse back on my pillow. I had hours to kill before nightfall. But as hard as I tried, I couldn’t fall back to sleep. Too many thoughts were buzzing through my mind, keeping me awake. Grumbling, I dragged myself out of bed. I couldn’t believe I had to get through
another
day without letting my parents see my face. I opened my door a crack, listening for where they were. But the house was unusually quiet. Holding my breath, I tiptoed into the hall, straining to hear my parents in the living room or the kitchen or the back porch. But there was only silence.