The It Girl (17 page)

And then I got truly stuck.

I realized I had put my right foot into a hole that was much too small, and somehow my foot was wedged in. I tried to shake my leg free, but my sneaker wouldn't budge. I knew Evan had me on the rope, so slowly I let go of the side and attempted to pull out my foot using both hands.

Evan continued to lower the rope that was holding up my body, not able to see this far down. Suddenly my upper body dropped backward and my foot remained stuck, the safety rope around my waist.

I was hanging upside down in a small waterfall.

Flailing around wildly, I couldn't see or hear anything because of the noise of the water. And then when it seemed like the situation couldn't get any more dire, my sweater fell loose from the harness and dropped down over my face.

As I hung upside down, having remembered the Wolverine thermal underwear I was wearing (that Dad had insisted on for the cold weather) was on display for everyone to see, I genuinely wished I could stay there until everyone else went home.

Eventually though, I was lowered to the bottom, where the second instructor grabbed hold of me half laughing as he unclipped the rope and checked if I was all right.

I looked up and saw Sophie, Josie, and the other girls gathered around the edge and looking down, their hands over their mouths, some of them giggling. I stood there, totally drenched, wiping the water off my face.

Someone took my hand, and I turned my head to see Connor Lawrence by my side. “Anna, are you all right?”

“I'm fine. Please don't make a fuss,” I whispered, completely mortified that everyone was still laughing at me. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Brendan Dakers and the other boys watching us.

Connor followed my eyeline over to Brendan and pulled his hand away. “Fine.” He walked off toward the back of the cave wall.

“Oh, Con–” I began, but was interrupted as Jess ran over looking upset. “Anna! Oh my goodness, are you okay?”

I looked around to try to catch Connor's eye, but he was resolutely
facing the other way. Brendan was still watching though. I shook my head. “No, Jess,” I replied, my eyes welling up.

Jess gave me a big hug and then squeezed the bottom of my sweater to wring it out.

“Did it look awful?”

“No, it wasn't that bad,” she replied carefully before letting out a small, apologetic giggle. “I mean, it was a little funny to watch. You know, you were sort of swaying upside down in the water. Don't worry though, I made sure no one filmed it on their phone . . . Nice thermal underwear, by the way.”

So everyone had seen it.

“Did Brendan see?” I hissed desperately.

“Uh.” She bit her nail. “Well, I think so. You know, everyone was looking up to watch you come down. . . . But I doubt anyone thought it was a big deal; I mean Brendan was laughing. You know, um, in a nice way.”

I pushed my sopping hair off my face. I knew Jess was being kind, but even she must have been embarrassed by that. I wondered what she was really thinking.

•  •  •

I sat on the bus on the way home, wrapped in a towel and on my own again. Even if Brendan hadn't been sitting with Sophie, Josie, and the popular crowd, I was far too ashamed
to sit next to him after today. Connor was sitting in the front again but hadn't said anything when I walked past.

I listened to Jess and Danny laughing in the seats opposite, the chatter of Sophie and Brendan as they flirted in the back seats, and the forced laughter of Josie as one of the soccer players told her an unfunny joke, and I made the decision there and then that things were going to change. I no longer wanted to be Anna Huntley, the embarrassing geek who wore Wolverine thermal underwear and couldn't do anything right.

I looked out of the window and made a pact with myself. I had to become someone who wouldn't be an embarrassment to spend time with. I'd be someone everyone would admire and, ultimately, someone they might even want to be.

I had to become Anna Huntley, the It Girl.

TEN REASONS WHY MY PARENTS
could never be together although they would never admit any of these:

1. My mom talks to Dog in a baby voice. My dad HATES this. “For goodness' sake, Rebecca, he's not a replacement child. If you feel the need to speak in that manner, go to the local nursery and volunteer. Don't torture my poor Labrador.”

2. My dad talks to Dog like he is a fellow member in a renowned gentlemen's club. My mom HATES this. “For goodness' sake, Nicholas, he doesn't care whether it's a ‘voluminous' port and he certainly won't join you for a cigar. Make new friends.”

3. Mom doesn't like silence so makes little clicking sounds with her tongue every now and then
during long periods of quiet. These sounds make Dad dig his fingernails into his leg.

4. The last time my mom stayed at our house, she painted one of the doors orange when Dad was out at a meeting because she said the house was: “Like your father, looking dreary.” Neither the orange nor the reason behind it went down well.

5. Dad eats very quickly and then gets the hiccups. Every meal, Mom says, “Slow down, Nick; at your age you'll get heartburn,” to which he replies, “Leave me alone; I'm enjoying my food.” And then he gets the hiccups. She gets very angered by this process each time it happens. Then they have a conversation that in theory is with me, but actually they don't even look at me once. Just give each other death stares. “He never listens to me, Anna!” “I would listen to her, Anna, if she didn't tell me how to behave all the time. Please remind your mother that I'm a grown man!”

6. My mom backed his new Volvo into a mailbox. And then a bread van. And then the side of
the garage where she took it to be fixed.

7. My dad took her new Audi for a test drive and totaled it.

8. Every time she comes to stay, my mom throws out any of Dad's clothes or shoes she doesn't approve of but doesn't tell him. Most of the time he only realizes a few weeks after she's gone, when he's late for something and is looking for his “darned green bow tie.” Then I get: “Anna. Please get your mother on the phone, NOW. I don't care if she's trekking in the Andes. I said NOW.”

9. They constantly bicker over which newscaster is the best on TV.

10. They both hate that the other one knows them better than they know themselves.

Mom arrived on Monday laden with gifts from around the world. “What a lovely fruit bowl,” my dad said grimly, trying to sound enthusiastic as he held it out away from him.

“It's not a fruit bowl, Nick.” Mom laughed. “It's a hat! Put it on, it will go so well with your bow tie collection. You can
wear it when we go for that expensive meal you promised me about nine years ago.”

Luckily I did not receive any animal bones this year and was instead pleased to be given some very pretty jewelry. “You can wear this necklace and feel brave,” my mom said gently, holding out an amber pendant.

When she had finished making herself at home, which involved scattering bright and colorful patterned throws from Peru across all the sofas, beds, and chairs in the house, we sat down with a cup of tea, and I filled her in on everything that had happened that semester.

Dad huffily went about the house removing all the throws and clearing up the mess Mom had already made in the bathroom, and then joined us just as I was elaborating on the events of the school trip, placing great focus on the thermal underwear situation.

“So as you can see, either I need to make a big change, or I need to leave the country. I can't go back to school without doing anything.” I sighed dramatically.

“I see.” My mom placed her teacup down onto the saucer. “Well, I take it you won't be leaving the country anytime soon, otherwise Dog would be at a loss, so what are you thinking for the big change?”

I shrugged. “I've got a few ideas. But that's where I need your advice. Dad is no help.”

“Hey!” Dad said, shuffling round in the armchair. “I keep receiving these unjust accusations. I helped with the boy advice, didn't I?”

“Dad, I told you; I can't go around cooking steaks at school.”

My mom looked confused. “What does steak have to do with boy troubles?”

“A lot apparently.” I rolled my eyes and reached for a cookie.

“I don't see why you have to make any changes,” Dad stated grumpily. “You're perfect just as you are. You can't stop being you.”

“Unfortunately not, but I can stop being so
obviously
me.”

“What on earth does that mean?” he asked, looking at Mom for help. She shrugged.

“None of your business,” I said curtly. “But I have enlisted the help of Helena and Marianne. Both of whom will be meeting us for lunch today.”

“I didn't know about this.”

“You're not invited, Dad. Girls only. Mom, we're meeting them at one thirty.”

“I don't see why I can't come,” Dad huffed, looking very disgruntled.

“Because I need you to approve of the end results. But it wouldn't be right for you to witness the process,” I explained.

Dad looked baffled, and Mom laughed out loud. “I'm sorry, Nick, looks like you're on your own this afternoon. Isn't our daughter a hoot!”

Ah. That's where I inherited that word from.

“She's certainly a lot of things,” he muttered, furrowing his eyebrows.

•  •  •

We met Helena and Marianne at the hairdresser that Helena had recommended. I didn't consider until we were there that I maybe should have let my dad introduce his future wife to the mother of his only child, but I needn't have worried. Mom and Helena immediately hit it off. I think my dad may have a type: beautiful, headstrong, and ever-so-slightly crazy.

They sat down on the sofa together with their glasses of champagne and talked without interruption about travels, film sets, movie stars, children, and my dad. The only time they stopped to pay attention to anyone else was when the hairdresser, Burt, ran his fingers through my long, flat, mousey-brown hair. “I think bangs. And I think auburn. Marianne?”

Marianne, who had stepped back somewhat while our
moms loudly and excitedly got to know each other, was now confident and in her comfort zone. She moved forward to stand next to Burt and scrutinize my reflection. “I think you're right,” she said, taking a handful of my hair and holding it up in the light. “I think red would suit her skin tone. And bangs would bring out her lovely eyes.”

I flushed at the compliment, but Marianne was too distracted by my split ends to notice. Helena and Mom did that thing that only moms can do, which is tilt their head and make an “aw” expression without actually saying anything. They both did it. I saw them in the mirror.

“Are you sure about this, Anna?” Marianne suddenly asked, gently letting down my hair and taking me by surprise.

“Yes. Why?”

“You don't need to change what you look like to try to please everyone else,” she said matter-of-factly. “It's hard work. That's what I have to do every day. It's not you.”

“I want it to be me though.” I sighed. “I'm tired of being sad when I see myself.”

“All right then,” Marianne said. “As long as you're sure you're doing it for the right reasons. Let's find you some more confidence.”

And with that she gave the go-ahead to Burt with a nod. He
pulled his tray of instruments and bottles of color toward him. “Let's get to work,” he announced dramatically, pinging the end of the disposable glove he had just put on with a flourish.

Gulp.

I sat quietly while he mixed the color and began to twist locks of my hair up to be clipped on the top of my head. Mom and Helena were giggling on the sofa over a story that Helena was retelling, and Marianne sat patiently in the chair next to mine, flicking through a magazine.

I let Burt push my head at awkward angles and smother it in strong-smelling goo. “Why the change?” he asked suddenly, rubbing the color to the ends of my hair.

“I've embarrassed myself and my friends too many times,” I explained. “I want things to be different.”

“Hair is a great place to start.” Burt nodded. “Marianne has done that a million times.”

“I have not!” She swiveled in her chair to face us. “I just get bored with my hair color.”

“Mmm,” Burt said knowingly. “Funny how you get bored with your hair color whenever some scandal about you comes out in the papers.”

“Completely coincidental.” Marianne smirked.

Burt chuckled, finished rubbing brown liquid in my hair,
and then said it was time to wait for the color to set in. “I'll leave you ladies to it, and I'll come back and have a look in a minute. Meanwhile, Marianne, why don't you tell Anna here about the scandal that came out right before you dyed
your
hair auburn.” He flounced off giggling.

“What? What happened?” I asked eagerly.

“I believe Burt is referring to the time that I drove a golf cart into a lake,” she replied, examining her makeup in the mirror. “Or he might be talking about the time I went a slightly brighter auburn, and that was after I lost my house key and tried climbing over a wall. Two tips for you in that situation. Don't climb a wall when there are photographers around, and it's a good idea to disable the security system.”

“That was quite a fine you landed me,” Helena piped up, holding out her glass for a refill of champagne and graciously thanking the assistant who poured it. “Wasting police time.”

“Wow.” I nodded. “Now I feel really boring.”

“You're only twelve, right?” Marianne shrugged. “There's still time.”

Mom and I sat enthralled as Helena launched into a series of scandalous tales about her many costars of the past with commentary from Marianne. By the time Burt came back to check on how things were coming along, we were all in fits of
giggles as Helena re-enacted a moment on a movie set when an actor, furious at his lines being cut, proposed a fencing duel with the director.