Doreen (3 page)

“So you're an artist.”

“I don't know if I'd say—”

“Oh my god! This one of Aunt Gloria is amazing! The colors are so vibrant. Wow. Wow! I'm impressed. You are a great photographer, Biz.”

“I'm, you know, well, that's nice of you to say.”

“I didn't say it to be nice.” Doreen squeezed her cousin's arm.

Heidi reentered the common room under an armload of clothes and deposited them with a grunt onto the sofa. “Everybody has a profile.”

“Not everyone,” said Biz. “I, for example, do not have a profile and I can assure you that I don't believe myself to be at all lacking—”

“Right. Let me rephrase,” said Heidi. “Anyone who has any social aspirations whatsoever at Chandler has a GryphPage profile. Come over here, will you, sweetie? Let's see what we can do.”

Doreen left Biz's photo collage and stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, her body resigned to Heidi's machinations. Heidi chose a black wrap dress from the pile and held it up over Doreen, studying the effect with a frown on her face. It was one of a few Mumzy purchased at Liberty of London in a panic, after Biz had arrived for a ten-day trip carrying only a backpack. “Too dull,” Heidi pronounced and snatched the dress from Doreen, replacing it with a yellow silk.

“This is nice,” Doreen offered. “I like the color.”

“No, no,” said Heidi. “It's entirely too, I don't know, Nantucket bridesmaid.” She flung the yellow on top of the black wrap on the reject pile and stood with her hands on her hips, her perfect forehead creased in concentration. Biz sat at her desk chair and opened her laptop. Clothing bored her.

“Isn't there anything with a little sex?” Heidi complained as she picked through the pile on the sofa.

“Listen,” said Biz. She entered Doreen's name on the GryphPage home screen and gave her account a password, cousin1. “If you don't like the pickings, why don't you go into your own closet?”

“Aha!” said Heidi. “Of course, the Dolce.” She produced a tiny scrap of shiny, baby-blue fabric from the pile and held it overhead like a captured flag. “I wore this to winter formal last year. Doreen, the boys were driven near to lunacy!”

“But—” Doreen protested as Heidi pressed the frock into her arms. “Isn't it a little, I don't know, small?”

“Try it on, won't you, dear? We'll be honest. Let's just see what we're dealing with, hmm?” Heidi ushered Doreen into the bedroom.

“I don't know . . .” Doreen studied the minidress like she did not know what she was meant to do with it.

“It's the kind of dress that looks better on. Trust me. You pull it on over your head.” Heidi closed the bedroom door.

Meanwhile, Biz had filled in Doreen's GryphPage profile with information about her cousin that she remembered from their shared youth at the beach house. Under “Interests” she'd written, “Gardening, mosaic-making, sailing, and board games.” Now she was straining to remember something about Doreen's musical tastes. Biz smiled to herself as she recalled playing the pieces she knew on the heirloom baby grand the family kept in the great room while Doreen hopped and twirled and flittered around like a fairy. Whenever the music stopped, Doreen would spiritedly demand more. “Mozart,” Biz wrote in the music column. “Bach, Chopin, Beethoven.”

“What do you think you're doing?” Heidi asked. She bent over Biz and read what she'd typed over her shoulder.

“Huh? I'm helping.”

“Board games? Do you really think that is an appropriate interest for a high school junior? And classical music? She wants to be popular, Biz, not middle-aged.”

“You like classical music.”

“Of course I do, but I'm not going to advertise it on the Internet. Here, move.”

“This is my desk! I'm not going to—”

“MOVE!” Heidi commanded. Reluctantly, Biz complied.

“You're so bossy,” said Biz with a defeated sigh, but Heidi didn't look up from the screen. “Lie carefully!”

At last the bedroom door opened. “You guys?” said Doreen in a small voice. “Heidi? Can I take this off now?”

“Oh, dear,” said Heidi. “Oh no, that's not going to work at all.” The dress hugged Doreen's flesh in a uniquely unflattering way, emphasizing the lumpiness of her hips and tummy while flattening her chest. Heidi wondered if this project was beyond even her considerable powers.

“I told you,” Doreen sulked.

“Don't feel bad, Doreen. That dress looks indecent on everyone. Even Heidi.”

“Hey! Yes, Doreen, you were right. Please take it off. We'll think of something.” As Doreen disappeared to change, Heidi paced around the common room. “Sexy isn't going to do it. We're going to have to go for drama.” She spotted the
Vogue
magazine she'd purchased for the bus back to campus. “Hold on a second. I saw something in here.”

Heidi flipped through the pages. “Ah, yes! Here it is. This is perfect. Doreen?” she called through the door. “Honey, can I come in?”

“I really wish you wouldn't.”

“She's upset,” said Biz. “This is exactly what I was trying to avoid.”

Heidi waved Biz off. “That's okay,” she told Doreen through the door in her sweetest voice. “But do me a favor? Go into Biz's closet there, the one on the right. Toward the back you'll find a red strapless dress. Do you see it?”

“I really don't want to do this anymore, Heidi.”

“This is the last one, okay? I promise. It's red and strapless and the label says Carolina Herrera.” She grinned at Biz. This was going to work, she was sure of it.

Biz plucked the open magazine from Heidi's hand and regarded the picture. “Is this a joke?” she deadpanned.

“Shh! No negativity,” Heidi whispered. “Find the place where you keep your can-do attitude, Miss Gibbons-Brown. You're going to need it.”

“Or what?”

“You know better than to cross me, Elizabeth. Or don't you want your cousin to like you?” Heidi snatched the magazine back from Biz.

“Is that another threat? They're really coming fast and loose today.”

“Just get your tripod, okay? And dispense with the histrionics.” Heidi rolled her eyes. It was tiresome, doing everything oneself. Finally the door opened again. Biz and Heidi stood up to behold their project.

“Well? What do you think?” Doreen asked.

“Perfection!” Heidi managed. “Yes, that'll do just fine.” She spun Doreen around. The dress did not fit altogether perfectly—it tucked right under the fat part of Doreen's armpit, and an inch or two of zipper remained open at the top because her back was too wide for the fabric. But it was a lovely dress. She did not look beautiful, but Heidi was sure she could work with it. “Next up? Makeup.”

The moon shining through the window gave Doreen's skin a soft effervescence, as if she was a ghost or an angel. She'd scrubbed her face of the makeup Heidi had slathered upon it for the photo shoot, pulled the hair that Heidi had so painstakingly curled back into a messy bun, and reclothed herself in the green knit dress. So it was Doreen Gray as her natural, pimply, frizzy-haired self upon whom Heidi gazed so admiringly.

Perhaps it was the excitement of the day's activities, or the comfort of a friendly welcome—or it may simply have been the night, coming through the window thick and velvety in the late summer, but Heidi saw majesty in Doreen. “You looked great, Doreen. I think you're going to like the picture.”

“Really?” Doreen's smile was full of gratitude.

Biz sat at her computer, hard at work. She uploaded the photos from that afternoon's session onto her computer and clicked through, looking for the picture that best mimicked the one from
Vogue
that she'd torn out of the magazine and pinned onto the wall. One photo in particular caught her attention.

It was a medium shot, with Doreen gazing directly at the camera, commanding the viewer take her in, to feast on her beauty. It was a good picture—great even—and since she'd taken it herself, Biz was proud of the results. She checked it against the magazine picture and thought Doreen looked so much more vivacious than the dull model. Of course, Biz admitted to herself, you could see the imperfections of Doreen's skin and the awkwardness of her body, but with her soul so available, what would that matter? Anyway, she could easily clean up the blemishes.

Biz pulled the photo into her design program. Just a couple little touch-ups here and there so that Doreen would be proud of herself. Biz wanted her to feel confident—to see the beauty that was so apparent to her but more hidden from shallower types like Heidi or Mumzy. She zoomed in on Doreen's face and began to smooth and gloss her skin.

“I think,” Doreen said to Heidi, “that Biz thinks you will be a bad influence on me.”

“Of course I will,” said Heidi. “If I am any influence at all, I will be a bad one, because that is the only kind of influence there is!”

“What do you mean? You don't believe in positive influence?”

“Only when you are the influencer, then there are oodles of benefits. You see, Doreen, most people find the freedom of life to be too stressful. Choices oppress these people. To relieve them of their burden, you just make their choices for them. Of course, it's a delicate process. Though they want to be freed from freedom, they still have an ego. As an influencer, it's up to you to ensure that even as you deliver them from their free will, they can uphold the make-believe that they are proceeding on their own chosen path.

“But in the meantime, you have to be vigilant in the matters of your own desires. Differentiate yourself from the sheep by loving freedom, by refusing to forsake it for any reason. You must, in other words, make yourself a fortress, barring yourself from outside influence so that you maintain the power over your own life and the lives of others.”

Doreen's face took on a peculiar look, as if she'd uncovered some long-buried truth and the discovery made her euphoric with recognition.

“There is something special about you, Doreen,” Heidi continued, keeping a careful eye on the effect of her words on Doreen's face. “I saw it as soon as you walked in here. I think it would really be something if you gave yourself the liberty to satisfy yourself. Let life work in your favor; let all that you want be delivered to you. I'll help you.”

“Will you, Heidi?” Doreen asked breathlessly, her eyes darting back and forth across Heidi's face. “I would like that so much! Will you really?”

“Heidi, what are you saying?” said Biz, her face lit blue from the glow of the computer screen. “Whatever it is, don't listen, Doreen.”

“Biz, don't lecture,” said Heidi, with a conspiratorial roll of her eyes at Doreen. The girl smiled—at her cousin's expense! Oh, this was too easy. “And aren't you done yet? The anticipation is torturous.”

“Almost, almost.” Having finished with Doreen's face, Biz moved onto her body. A little smoothing, she said to herself, nobody is perfect. Anyway, she was only giving Doreen's picture the same attention the model had received in
Vogue
. She trained her digital airbrush over Doreen's arms and torso.

“There. That's perfect. Now I'll just upload it to your GryphPage so you can see it
in situ
.”

“No!” Doreen blurted, springing to her feet. “I mean, can I see it first? Before it goes, like, public?”

“Oh. Sure. Of course. Here, let me print it.” Under her desk, Biz's professional-grade printer whirred to life, a gift from her father. “I think you're going to like how it came out.”

“Don't be nervous.” Heidi patted Doreen on her knee. “You looked amazing in that dress.”

“I'm not nervous,” Doreen insisted as she cracked every single knuckle in succession.

“Yeah, right.”

“Here we go.” Biz removed the page from the printer and gave it a satisfied nod. She laid the photo on the coffee table in front of Doreen and Heidi.

In the picture, a stunning girl sat on a chair in the middle of a field, wearing a red strapless dress that fit her perfectly, as if she was sewn into it. The girl's skin was flawlessly smooth and white, and her violet eyes met the camera directly, with an audacity befitting her incredible beauty. Her thin arms rested comfortably at her side while ringlets of black hair cascaded dramatically down her back. In the porcelain white of the face, Doreen identified some recognizable features. That must have been her nose, after all, and though the lips were so perfectly shaped in their light-pink stain, it was her mouth in the photo, the same mouth that gaped openly at the picture she beheld, naked and dried out from nervous chewing.

“Why, Bizzy Bear, you've quite outdone yourself! Our little Doreen looks so—”

“Unrecognizable! Oh, what have you done? No. No!” The picture shook in Doreen's hand. “You're making fun of me. I should have known!” Doreen buried her head in her hands.

“Huh? Making fun of you? What would make you think that?” Biz looked mortified. “I thought you would like it. I just touched it up a tiny bit.”

“Ha!”

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—I thought, I don't know. I was trying to give you what you wanted.”

“To look like an idiot? How can I possibly claim that this is a picture of me? It looks nothing like me! If people see it . . . It's cruel what you've done. Both of you! Oh, I should have known.”

“Doreen, calm down. Nobody is making fun of you,” said Heidi, but the girl continued to sob. “You don't like the picture? Fine! Biz, delete the file from your computer. Give me the photo.” Heidi held a hand out to Doreen. “Really, you needn't make such a fuss. Poor Biz was simply trying to help you.” Heidi was disappointed with the scene Doreen was making. She hadn't thought the girl would be so gushy and unreasonable. “Give me the photograph, Doreen.”

“Why?” Doreen asked. She pressed the picture to her chest. “What are you going to do with it?”

“I was going to destroy it. Isn't that what you want?” Heidi stood up and paced around the room, her hands in fists. “I cannot tolerate this inconstancy. Resolve yourself. If you don't like the photograph, I will rip it to shreds. Otherwise get a hold of yourself so that we may discuss the issue like adults. Your cousin was trying to be kind to you. She does not deserve to be spoken to with such ugliness!”

“You're right. I'm sorry. Please don't be mad at me. I'm sorry, Bizzy. I just—don't you understand?” Doreen looked down at the photograph with a new tenderness. “Oh, I wish this was me in the picture.” She wiped tears from her eyes. Crying had brought out the splotchy redness of her complexion, making her look even more unlike the photo. “I would give anything to be this girl!”

“But it is you!” said Biz softly. “All I did was clean it up a little. That's what they do in the magazines.”

“I really appreciate what you did, Biz. But when I see this picture, it shows me everything that I'm not. I'm not beautiful or glamorous. I could never be this girl, as much as I would want to be her. Look!” Biz and Doreen looked down at the picture together. “See how easy her life must be! How everybody must love her! That isn't me. That isn't how—” Doreen's eyes welled up again. Biz gently ran a hand along her head.

“Shh,” she said. “It's okay.”

“And I don't want you to rip it to shreds, Heidi. Because it's so—it's beautiful. It's the most perfect picture I've ever seen. I love it, in a way. Only . . . I'm jealous of it. Have you ever heard of anything so ridiculous? To be jealous of a picture.” She shook her head, smiling. “I really am a piece of work.”

“You've had a long day,” said Biz. “You must be exhausted.” Doreen leaned her head against her cousin's shoulder and Biz stroked her cheek. Heidi could not remember Biz displaying so much affection for a human before.

“That's right, Biz. We've all had a long day of it.” Heidi sensed that she was losing Doreen to Biz, but she was not ready to give up yet. So the photo shoot had been a bit of a disaster, so what? She could still recover her position. After all, popularity was not something one gave up on so easily. “Listen, Doreen, why don't you drop by here tomorrow at around eleven? We'll get you dressed and then we can appear together at lunch. Maybe the GryphPage profile was the wrong starting point.”

“Listen, Heidi, I think we've had enough of all that. Popularity is a waste of time. I'll show you around campus tomorrow, Doreen. Wait till you see the technology at our disposal here.”

“As your friend?” Doreen asked Heidi, unclasping Biz's hand.

“I'm sorry?”

“Will you introduce me to people at lunch—as your friend? Would you really do that?”

“Of course!” said Heidi. She tucked an errant batch of wiry hair behind Doreen's ear and put an arm around her shoulders. “I will introduce you as my friend as well as a representative of the midwestern branch of the Gibbons-Brown family.”

“Oh, please,” said Biz. “Do you hear yourself? How absurd.”

“Okay. Okay. I'll see you tomorrow at eleven.” Doreen gathered up her things to go.

“But, Doreen, I thought, is that really—”

“I really am tired, so I think I'll head home. Good-bye for now. Thank you, Heidi. Thank you so much for everything. I'm sorry for my outburst. Good-bye, Biz! I'll see you tomorrow!” With the photograph still in her hand, Doreen let herself out of their room.

“Well!” Heidi said when she heard the door close. She sank onto the sofa beside Biz. “What a fascinating evening!”