Beauty (4 page)

The sun was setting as she drew, streaks of color dousing the sky. A single lantern turned on overhead and I jumped a little in surprise. Its light beamed down on me like a spotlight, and I shifted a little in my place, the light warm on my shoulders. The woman smiled softly. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“Molly,” I told her.

“I’m Dharma.” She was quiet for another minute, and in the silence I could hear her charcoal gliding over the page. “You having a tough night, Molly?”

I sighed. “Is it that obvious?” The wind picked up a little, making the water lap closer to my feet. I slid out of my Keds and dipped my toes in the water, wiggling them to keep them warm.

“No, I just read people well.” Dharma gave me a little smile. “We have some time, though.” She flicked a strand of red hair out of her face. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

I looked at her doubtfully. “I’m not sure you’d want to hear it.”

“Try me.” Dharma’s hand fell still, her eyes lingering on mine for several seconds, before returning to her paper. “I like listening while I draw.”

“All right,” I shrugged. “But remember, you asked for it.”

So, as Dharma’s hand continued to fly across the paper, I began to tell her about my night. I told her about Hudson and the monkey and my horrible mistake. I told her about Seth calling me a beast and Hayley laughing at me, and how I could never in my life compare to Ashley Coolidge. I kept glancing over to gauge her reaction, but she never looked pitying or disgusted or like she wanted to give me advice. She just looked like she was listening. Like she wanted to hear what I had to say.

“You wouldn’t believe this girl, Ashley,” I said, shaking my head. “She’s beautiful. Probably the most beautiful girl in Miracle. And it’s like, she can have anything in the world because of it.” I paused, an image of Hudson flashing through my mind: not the boy who gave Ashley the monkey today, but the boy from my street, the boy who sprinted over to me after I fell. “It’s just … it’s unfair. I wish I could be like that, you know?”

“Like what?” Dharma kept her eyes on the paper. She was drawing furiously now.

“Like Ashley.” I picked at a blade of grass, watching the water roll over my toes. “I wish I could be the most beautiful girl in Miracle.” I let out a sharp laugh. “Funny, right?”

But Dharma didn’t answer. Instead, she drew several more lines, then dropped her hand, tilting her head from left to right as she studied the page. “Done,” she declared.

“Already?” I said. I glanced down at my watch: 9:10. Wow. Time had flown while she was sketching me. I couldn’t believe I’d been there for over an hour.

Dharma nodded knowingly. “Goes fast, right? I get that a lot.” Carefully, she rolled the portrait up and slid it inside the tube.

“Yeah.” I pulled my shoes back on, standing up. Dharma passed me the tube.

“Don’t look at it until you’re home,” she reminded me.

“I won’t,” I promised.
Or ever
, I thought to myself. But out loud I just added, “Thanks. For the portrait … and for listening.”

Dharma reached out and squeezed my hand. Her skin was smooth and cool. I had a flash of a Popsicle on a hot summer day. “Things will look different in the morning. They always do.”

I nodded. “I hope so.” With a wave, I tucked the tube under my arm and started back toward the fair. But as I cut through the line of bushes, I noticed a sign that in my earlier haste, I’d overlooked. AREA CLOSED FOR RENOVATION, it read. WILL REOPEN NEXT YEAR. Well, of course Dharma hadn’t had any customers! I poked my head back through the bushes to tell her, but she was nowhere to be seen. The fishpond was completely empty again.

I shook my head. She must have gotten sick of waiting around for customers. It was too bad. She could have had plenty at the fair. Maybe even people who wanted to
see
their portraits. Keeping my tube firmly capped, I headed toward the parking lot, taking the long way along the outskirts of the fairground to avoid running into anyone I knew. It might make me a few minutes late, but I was feeling tired after the night I’d had, and I knew I just couldn’t face it.

I picked my dad’s car out of the long line in the lot right away, and as I slipped past a group of kids in my grade, pretending not to see them, I let out a huge yawn. It hit me suddenly just how tired I was. Not the I-stayed-up-too-late-studying kind of tired, but the walking-dead kind of tired. My eyes were having trouble focusing and my limbs felt heavy, like they were packed with wet sand. Apparently a night of total and utter humiliation left you feeling like you’d just run a marathon.

“Hi sweetheart,” my dad said as I slid into the car. “Your brother on his way?”

“How should I know?” I mumbled. Even my mouth felt tired, like formulating words was some kind of workout.

Bzzzzzzzzzz
. My dad furrowed his brow as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped a few buttons on the screen. “Seth’s getting a ride home with Matty,” he said. “He said he texted you to tell you, but you were”—my dad paused to air quote—“‘acting like a freak tonight,’ and never answered. Did your phone die, Mol?”

I shrugged and reached into my purse, pulling it out. I must have left my phone on silent, because I’d two missed calls from Kemper and four text messages.

The first three were from Kemper.

Where r u?

Call me, Mol!!

CALL ME PRONTO!

The last was from Seth.

I’m getting a ride home w/ Matty. He says tell the Beast hi! HAHAHAHA!

Nothing from Hayley. I let out a grumble and tossed the phone back into my purse.

My dad looked over at me in concern as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Everything okay, Mol?” he asked. “You don’t look so great. Are you coming down with something?”

I shook my head and leaned back in my chair. “Just tired,” I managed. I knew I should call Kemper back, but I didn’t have it in me. “Tell me about your case tomorrow, Dad,” I said instead. I loved hearing my dad talk about his cases. I loved how he launched into his lawyer voice without even meaning to—all fancy terms and big pronouncements and exclamations, like his words were more than just words, each one packing a punch. As he jumped into a story about proving how someone was wrongfully fired, I let my eyelids flutter shut.

I must have drifted off, because when my dad pulled the car into our driveway, I woke with a start. “You’re tired,” he remarked. I nodded, unable to muster up the energy for words. I dragged myself out of the car, following my dad inside.

“Hey, guys,” my mom called out from the living room as the front door swung shut behind us. “How was the fair, Molly?”

“Exhausting, apparently,” my dad answered for me. “Our daughter is a walking zombie tonight.”

My mom poked her head out from the living room, her brow furrowed in concern. “You okay, Mol?”

“Just tired,” I managed, making my way to the stairs. The last thing I needed right then was a lecture from my mom about putting on zit cream before bed or remembering to use my defrizzer in the morning. “Long night.”

“You want to talk?” my mom called out after me.

I shook my head. I was already halfway up the stairs. “Tomorrow,” I said, as Spaghetti came bounding up after me. When I reached my room, I tossed my portrait tube into the corner and crawled right into bed. I was going against all my mom’s hygiene rules to live by: no face-washing, no tooth-brushing, no zit-cream. But I just couldn’t find it in me to care. I mean, how much worse could I look tomorrow, anyway? Spaghetti leapt into bed, cuddling against me, and I pulled the covers tight around us. All I wanted was to fall fast asleep and forget this whole night ever happened.

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall,
Who’s the Fairest One of All?

I WAS UNDERWATER, with lead for limbs as I fought my way to the surface. Fish wound and wove around me, tangling themselves in my hair and my clothes, pulling me back down.

Beep beep beep.

The beeping was coming from above the surface. I had to get there. I had to reach that sliver of light on the other side. I fought harder, shaking the fish off, watching as they spiraled backward, a tornado of colors: red and purple and green and blue, the most beautiful colors I’d ever seen.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

The beeping was getting louder now, more insistent. I had to reach it. I fought even harder, rising and rising. And then I saw it, floating above the surface: a fish, big and as yellow as freshly husked corn, light streaming out of it like the sun.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

I was only inches away now. Gasping for air, I burst through the surface, coming face-to-face with the yellow fish. Warm light poured out of it, washing over me, and—

BEEEEEP!

I jumped awake with a start, my hand slamming down on my alarm clock to turn it off. My heart was racing, my breath was ragged, and my head was pounding so much, it felt like it was stuck in an anvil. Slowly I stood up, shaking out my limbs. It had been a dream. Just a dream. I glanced at the clock. A dream that had kept me sleeping through my alarm for
twenty
minutes
! Which left me with fifteen minutes max to get ready and meet Kemper out front.

I hurried to the bathroom and hopped in the shower, turning it on full blast. I still felt a little groggy from my dream, like I couldn’t quite shake the sleep off me, so I held my face up to the water and let it stream down, shocking me awake. By the time I got out, the bathroom was so steamy I couldn’t even make out my reflection in the mirror as I brushed my teeth and ran a comb through my hair. There was no time for makeup or blow-drying. My hair would just have to air-dry on the way to school.

Throwing on some clothes, I grabbed my backpack and pounded down the stairs. “Want some cereal, Mol?” my mom called out from the kitchen. I glanced down at my watch:
t
minus one minute until I had to meet Kemper.

“No time,” I called back. “I’ll grab something at school!” I hurried out to the front yard, yelling, “See you later,” as the door slammed shut behind me. Pulling my bike out of the garage, I rolled it onto the front lawn and stood still for a second, breathing in deeply. It was one of those perfect spring days. The sun was hanging full and content in the sky, like it had just eaten a huge breakfast. Yellow buds were bursting into bloom on the ground, birds were twittering in the trees, and the air had a fresh smell to it, like a newly unwrapped gift.

Kemper rode up just as I was climbing onto my bike. “Morning,” I said. I bent down to tinker with my brake, which kept getting stuck lately.

“I’m in protest,” Kemper announced, in typical why-bother-with-hello Kemper fashion.

“And what are you protesting this time?”

“Hayley,” she announced. “And her backstabbing. See the shirt?” I straightened up, grinning at her. The red streak in her hair was now coal black, like someone had taken a permanent marker to it, and she was pointing to a gray T-shirt she was wearing under a thin green cardigan. JUST SAY NO, it read in big block letters. Her eyes fell on me, widening a little as if in surprise. “And I even re-dyed my hair,” she continued slowly, sounding distracted all of a sudden. “As a, uh, statement, since you know how she, uh, hates anything goth …” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Okay, did you do something this morning, Mol? You look … I don’t know … different.”

I shook out my wet hair as we pedaled off down the road. “I call it the I-had-fifteen-minutes-to-get-out-the-door look,” I said sourly. I grimaced a little as I realized I hadn’t even grabbed cover-up to bring to school with me. Which meant my zit would be alive and kicking all day long.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Kemper stealing a curious glance at me. Was my zit
that
awful? “No,” she clarified. “Not different bad. Different … great, actually.”

I rolled my eyes—like
come on
—but the funny thing was, now that I was awake and moving, I felt a little different too. Lighter, somehow. “Maybe it’s all the sleep I got last night. I slept like a
rock
. I could barely get up this morning.” I paused. “Guess that’s what a good old- fashioned night of humiliation will get you.” I’d meant it as a joke, but Kemper didn’t laugh, and it just hung there in the air between us, stiff and silent.

“About last night,” Kemper said softly. “I really am in protest. I can’t believe what Hayley did.”

I kept my eyes down, watching the road fly by beneath me. “I don’t know, Kemp. It
was
kind of absurd that I thought Hudson would give that monkey to me. I mean, look at me. I’m not exactly Hudson Taylor material.” I tried to laugh, but it came out more like a sigh.

Kemper’s brow furrowed as she glanced over at me again. She bit her lip, like she was always doing during her debate team meets when she was trying to figure something out. “Whatever,” she said finally, shaking her head. “Hudson Taylor is so not worth it. And I’m starting to think Hayley isn’t either.”

That thought gave me an awful feeling in my throat, thick and sour, like I’d gotten a lemon stuck back there. Before I met Kemper and Hayley, I’d had this best friend named Maryann. We met during Gymboree class and my mom said we’d just clicked, right away. We never wanted to hang out with other kids after that; it was better just the two of us. We were sturdy that way, no extra weight to throw us off.