School of Charm (14 page)

chapter seventeen

W
HEN
I
GOT HOME
, I
SNUCK INTO THE HOUSE AND PUT
on a baseball cap. I didn't want anyone to see my hair until it was fixed. How would I explain that one? Nobody really paid me much attention, though. My sisters sat at the kitchen table sorting through Mama's makeup and looking at lipstick shades.

“I get to wear makeup?” Ruthie asked.

“A little bit, sugar,” Mama said, squeezing Ruthie's cheek. Ruthie clapped and bounced in her seat.

I stared at the back of Grandma's head as she stood cooking over the stove. I wanted to tell her I knew her real secret. Not the sad ones hidden in her off-limits room. The bad one. The sneaky one. That she didn't win Miss North Carolina. That she got it by mistake. Because of a horrible accident. And all this time, she'd been pretending. Lying.

Even though I was mostly angry, my throat felt thick and I wanted to cry. Grandma had tricked us. She tricked us all and made us think she was something she wasn't. A little thought crept into my head. “Isn't that what you're trying to do? Trick them into thinking you're Brand-New Brenda the Beauty Queen?” I chased that idea away like a pesky fly. I wasn't trying to trick anyone. I was
trying
to be someone new. But Grandma fooled us. She told us all she was a winner when she wasn't.

 

L
ATER
I
FIXED A NASTY STARE AT HER ACROSS THE DINNER
table and ignored the way she glared at my baseball cap. “So, Grandma, what was it like when you won the crown? When you were onstage and they put it on your head?” I poked some peas around my plate. I hated peas.

“Yes, tell us. Did you cry?” Charlene asked, settling her chin in her hand.

Mama shifted in her seat. “Mother, we need to buy some more thread for Charlene's gown. Shall we go to town tomorrow?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” she said.

“But tell us about winning the crown,” I said. “About that very night.”

I snuck a fresh look at Grandma. The side of her mouth curled down. “It's so hard to remember the exact moment. I didn't cry. I was just so happy. So proud.”

“But were you nervous? With all the people in the audience watching when they announced your name that very night?” I asked.

“No. Not at all. You have to be confident onstage.”

“Weren't you at all nervous you were going to lose?”

Grandma dropped her fork on the plate. “Why all these questions? It's not like
you
need to worry about what it's like to win a crown, Brenda. You're not a pageant girl.”

I adjusted my baseball cap and shifted in my seat, pressing my lips together so I wouldn't blurt out my secret: I was going to be a pageant girl too. It was going to be so fun to see Grandma's surprised face when she saw me onstage.

 

T
HE NEXT DAY
, I
KEPT MY HEAD DOWN AS WE WALKED
along the sidewalk into BeBe's salon. BeBe was friends with Miss Vernie and, hopefully, a hair genius. She just had to help me.

“Brenda?” Mama was standing right in front of me with a little bag from Woolworth's. I forgot my family was coming into town for thread!

I looked up. Mama rushed forward and ran her hand along my hair. “What happened? Who did this to you?” She looked at our group and her eyes landed on Dana.

Dana raised her eyebrows and dropped her chin. She planted a fist on her hip.

Don't say anything, Mama
,
I thought.
Don't.
She might ruin everything with just a few sharp words. “My friends and I tried cutting it. At charm school.”

Mama looked at Miss Vernie. “Miss Vernie, I haven't seen you in years. Chip told me about your school, but I didn't think she was going there anymore.”

My mouth opened and closed. “I am. I like it there. And I'm learning a lot.”

“Brenda is doing a fine job,” Miss Vernie said.

“Wait. Does this mean you're joining the pageant?” Mama asked, looking confused.

Suddenly the crack in the sidewalk seemed real interesting. “Yes, Mama. It was supposed to be a surprise. That's why I didn't tell you I was going to the school.”

Grandma stepped forward, holding her purse in front of her. “Vernie, these girls are in your charm school?”

“Hello, Nancy. Yes, this is Karen and Dana. We're in town to make a few adjustments to Brenda's hair.” Miss Vernie put on a big smile.

“Brenda,” Charlene said, “I told you, you're not cut out for this pageant stuff. It's not like just anybody can do it.” Then she looked right at Dana.

“Vernie, are you helping this girl for some Negro pageant?” Grandma asked.

“Grandma!” I snarled through my teeth.

“No, Dana is entering the Miss Dogwood pageant too.” Miss Vernie stood behind Dana and set her hands on her shoulders.

“Juniors?” Charlene asked, taking in Dana, spending a lot of time staring at her Afro.

“No. I'm fifteen.” Dana's eyes were as tight as her lips.

Mama put her hand on her throat. “But, surely you know . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“Just what kind of school are you running?” Grandma asked.

Miss Vernie raised her chin. “It's a school where the girls learn exactly what they need.”

Grandma shook her head and sighed. “Brenda, come with us. We'll take you to my salon and fix this mess on your head. We'll set you straight for the pageant best we can. But who knows what damage's been done. If you intended to join the pageant, you should have been working with me all along. But what should I expect from a sneak and a liar.”

“I said I wanted to surprise you all.”

Mama held out her hand, waiting for me. “Brenda, come.” Mama was using her disappointed voice. She should have been clapping her hands together, thrilled with the news. But she wasn't excited at all that I was trying to be like her. Where was Mama's smile? I thought my heart might drop right out of my chest.

“Mama, let her be. She's been going to a charm school instead of working with us. Let's see what she can do on her own. Besides, there is so much to do for me and Ruthie. There's no way we can help her too,” Charlene said, jerking her thumb my way.

Even Ruthie was wrinkling her nose. The four of them stood across from me.

I slid my fingers in my pockets. Mama and Grandma and my sisters didn't want me to be part of their pageant plans. The way they looked at me and Karen and Dana hit me in the gut. They couldn't picture anyone different from them as a pageant girl. Did I even want to work with Charlene? Or with Grandma, the liar? Here she was getting after me for keeping a secret, when she'd told us a flat-out lie. No, I didn't want to work with them. I stepped back and shook my head. “I'm staying with Miss Vernie and my friends. She's teaching us exactly what we need to know.”

“Right.” Charlene rolled her eyes and turned on her heel. She started walking away, the wooden soles of her Dr. Scholl's sandals clomping on the sidewalk. Ruthie chased her, and finally Grandma turned to follow.

Then Mama said in a sad, quiet voice, “If that's what you want, Chip. You come home after your haircut.” And she turned and caught up to Grandma and the girls.

My stomach was twisting and turning like I was on a roller coaster. I looked down at my bracelet, wondering if I had lost a charm. Nope. I still had two left. Made sense, 'cause I hadn't learned anything new. I already knew I didn't fit in with my family.

Karen rubbed her hand along my arm as Miss Vernie steered me into the salon, but Dana hung back.

My chest was heaving and I was so busy trying to keep the tears from falling, I wasn't even thinking much about my hair. BeBe herself came over and patted the puff of blonde on her head. She pursed her shiny red lips.

“This is . . . interesting,” she said, narrowing her eyes at me. She washed my hair and settled me into a different chair in front of a big mirror. Then she combed it out and started cutting big chunks. Karen bit her lip as she watched.

I pressed my eyes closed. I'd always had long hair. I could feel her working above my shoulders and knew my hair was going to be short. If my Daddy was looking for me, he might not even recognize me now.

BeBe blew my hair dry and quickly set a bunch of curls across my head with the curling iron. She brushed it out and spun me around to face the mirror.

“You look so good!” Karen cried, her hands cupped over her mouth. “Like three years older or something. I'm so jealous.”

Dana said nothing. I hoped she wasn't mad about what Grandma had said.

“Thanks, it's very nice,” I said. But I knew it wasn't pageant hair. Pageant hair was long and flowy. But it wasn't just about the hair. Someone very different was looking back at me, someone with different hair and new, sad eyes. After all this time and all this hard work, my pageant plans weren't helping me get any closer to my family.

chapter eighteen

I
WANTED TO GO BACK TO THE POND MORE THAN
anything, but Miss Vernie dropped me off at the end of Grandma's driveway 'cause Mama said to come right home after my haircut. I took my time walking up to the front door. I could hear everyone talking and laughing in the living room. Having fun without me. They didn't miss me at all.

They didn't even want me in there. I didn't belong here. Not in Mount Airy. Not in Grandma's house. Not in my family. I was right the day we moved here: I'd never belong. I'd never get Grandma to like me. And that's why I hadn't seen a sign from Daddy. Because he wouldn't lie to me and let me believe I belonged there when he knew the truth too.

I walked back to Miss Vernie's even though it was suppertime.

“Brenda? Did you forget something?” She was working on the new garden, where she had moved all those red flowers that first day. Karen and Dana had already gone home.

“How are those flowers doing?”

She brushed her hand along her forehead. “They're having a tough time. This summer has been hard. Too hot and too dry. But they're hanging in there.” She looked at me. “Sometimes that's all you can do when things get tough—hang in there.”

I looked away. “Are things ever tough for you, Miss Vernie?”

She stared off across the garden for a long time. “When things are tough, I just bury my troubles and my heartaches out here.” She laughed in a way that sounded like it hurt. “Sometimes I wonder if all those emotions travel up into the flowers and trees, and make 'em stronger.”

Her flowers were bigger and brighter than I'd ever seen. The kind you'd expect in a fairy tale. A shower of tiny white petals fell down behind Miss Vernie, but I couldn't tell where they'd come from.

“Is that what you're doing now? Burying your troubles?” I asked her.

“Maybe so. You can join me if you like.”

I sat next to her and she handed me a shovel.

“Is this where you come when you think about Charlie?” I asked softly. “That man in the picture?”

She set down her shovel and took off her gardening gloves. She rubbed her eyes. “That's my nephew. The boy I raised. And I do feel that he's out here with me when I work.”

I twisted a piece of grass around my finger. “What did you mean when you said you don't know what happened to him? I saw him in his uniform in that picture. Is he a POW or something?” Daddy had told me about the prisoner-of-war soldiers still left in Vietnam.

Miss Vernie stared off for so long I thought maybe she wasn't going to answer me. But then she tilted her head and gave me a sad little smile. “No, he came back from the war. But it had done something to him. Most folks around here were real nice to the vets. But a few people had awful things to say about some of what happened over there during the war.” She sighed and seemed to shrink a bit. “Add that to how he was feeling, it was enough to make him leave. He left me a note saying he couldn't stay here at home with so many reminders of how his life used to be. And how different it had become.”

“He left home? On purpose? Where did he go?”

“I don't know. Sometimes I get postcards from different places. They aren't signed, but I think they're from him.” She was folding and unfolding her hands. “I don't know. I just don't know. I read all those newspapers from the cities on those postcards, wondering if I'll see some tidbit that'll help me find him. But I think I'm just going to have to wait for Charlie to come back on his own.”

I nodded and tried to hold back the tears I felt in my eyes. “I bet you feel real sad losing him like that.”

She nodded. “What about you, Chip? Do you have a special space to leave behind some of your sadness?” She brushed my hair away from my eyes. “Because there's so much of it in your eyes.”

I nibbled on my lip, wondering if I dare tell her the truth. I blew out my breath. “My daddy died. We aren't supposed to talk about it. Talking about him just makes everyone sad. Especially Mama. I found this one tree I like to climb. But it's far away down the road, by this little creek. I don't feel quite so sad up there. But I haven't been there in a while. That's the kind of thing I used to do, climbing trees. But not now.”

Miss Vernie squeezed my shoulder. “There's nothing wrong with being sad. And there's nothing wrong talking about it. If you don't feel the heartache, you just live with it hurting you. It might be hard, all those words coming out at first, but then they're gone. Not so many crowded up inside you.” She looked at me, and it hurt my chest to even let the idea flutter around inside me. “But if you don't think you're ready to talk about it with your family quite yet, why don't you work out here in my garden? See if you don't leave some of that sadness behind here in my dirt when you can't make it to your special heartache tree.”

So we worked together, ripping out weeds and crabgrass. We didn't even talk. Seemed like everything we needed to say had been said. And each stab of my shovel into the dirt did seem to loosen something inside me.

Eventually Miss Vernie said, “You best get home. I don't need your grandma more upset with me than she already is.”

“Why is she upset with you?”

She patted the back of her head, readjusting the updo that was coming undone. “I expect she's angry because I'm working with you, and she's not.”

“You're not friends anymore, are you? Is that because you beat her even though she ended up with the crown?”

Miss Vernie turned to me. “How do you know we're not friends anymore?”

“If you were friends, you'd visit each other. Talk to each other on the phone.”

She put a hand on my shoulder. “No, that's not the reason we're not friends. Not because of the beauty pageant.”

I waited for Miss Vernie to tell me more, but she was quiet as she walked me down the driveway to the road. “You take care now, Brenda.”

“I will. You too, Miss Vernie.” I felt sad walking home. Somehow those final words seemed like more than just a good night. They seemed like the end of something.

 

“W
HERE HAVE YOU BEEN?
” M
AMA SHOUTED WHEN
I walked through Grandma's door. “We were worried sick about you. Every day children across America disappear and never see their families again, you know.”

“I came home, but you were all busy, so I went to Miss Vernie's.”

“We've discussed it, and you're not going back to her school,” Grandma said. “The pageant's two weeks away, and we'll be lucky if you don't make fools out of us up there.”

I looked at Mama. “I can't go back to Miss Vernie's?” I felt like I was going to throw up.

“I think it's best you work with Grandma,” Mama said. “If you want to still do the pageant.”

Quitting seemed like a good idea after all these troubles. But this was my only chance for Mama to see me like her. I had to keep at it. “I do. I want to do the pageant with you guys.”

Grandma sighed. “I can't imagine what she's been teaching the three of you girls.” She untied her apron and threw it on the counter.

“She's been teaching us the baton. My baton is at her house. So's my dress that I bought. I have to go back.”

“I'll fetch them tomorrow,” Grandma said, “and give her a piece of my mind too.”

“Why aren't you two friends anymore, Grandma?”

Grandma's nostrils flared like a dog ready to bite. She opened her mouth, then closed it, and stalked out of the room.

Mama shook her head and Charlene threw up her hands. “Can we get back to practicing my song?”

I headed up to my room and realized Earl was at Miss Vernie's too. Somehow with all this pageant business, I'd forgotten all about him. I'd forgotten about the turtle I promised Daddy I'd save.

It was as bad as forgetting about Daddy.