Being Mary Bennet Blows Page 13

  Jane gave me a sheepish look. “Liz got up early and went somewhere to work out with Alex.”

  “Or so she claimed.”

  Jane’s eyebrows danced, but she didn’t confirm or deny when it came to Liz. I wished I had a friend like that. Or even a sister like that. “I’m not sure when she’ll be back, so I just thought I’d ask.”

  I sneaked one last peek at Narcissus and Goldmund before setting it down. “I don’t know. It seemed like a good idea the other day, but no one’s been bugging me.”

  Other than Dad, about the piano. And Mom, ditto. Josh now hung out with a seemingly endless supply of girls and didn’t talk to me anymore—although he did keep hovering. He hadn’t asked me again to help him with his roller coaster, but it only proved he wasn’t totally stupid.

  Jane ran a hand through her perfect hair, looking a little impatient. “This isn’t about whether someone is bugging you. This is about you.”

  “Is it?” I looked at Jane in her usual perfect ensemble of turquoise capris and matching top, then down at my own overalls. “Or am I just another extreme makeover project for you? Or a charity case?”

  Jane pursed her lips. Yep, her patience was definitely wearing thin. But so was mine.

  “If you don’t want to change anything, it’s your choice.” Jane’s head jerked up at the sound of the front door slamming. “If you’re happy with the status quo, go for it.”

  Liz came trotting up the stairs and collapsed on the floor of my room, out of breath.

  “What’s up? Are we going shopping today? Or is it makeover time?”

  As the word “makeover” spilled out of Liz’s mouth, Jane froze and I caught her eye. They did consider me a project. A pathetic fixer-upper.

  I picked up my book again, although I didn’t open it. “I can tell you’re both busy. You’ve been busy all week, and now it’s the weekend, and you probably have dates tonight, and you’ll want to spend all afternoon getting dolled up.”

  Liz and Jane stared at each other, Liz frowning and Jane nodding. Next thing I knew, they yanked me off my bed and practically dragged me down the stairs. In my bare feet. As Jane grabbed my boots and Liz pulled open the front door, Mom poked her head out of the kitchen.

  “You’re not going anywhere, Mary.” She wiped her hands on a dish towel, as if she’d actually been cooking or doing dishes. Not in this lifetime. “I’m sorry, but Mary can’t leave until we resolve the piano issue.”

  “Dad and I talked about it.” Dad was nowhere in sight, and I hadn’t seen him all morning. “And it’s fine.”

  As Mom came closer, Liz tugged me closer to the door. Jane looked torn between helping me out of a jam and obeying a direct order. That was the problem with Jane.

  “It’s not fine. It’s bad enough that you quit practicing piano without my permission, but now I hear that you want an electric guitar?”

  My sisters’ heads both whipped in my direction, their jaws dropping. Neither one said anything or laughed, but Jane’s lips twitched.

  “You’re not going to—”

  “—be gone too long.” Liz yanked both Jane and me out the front door as she called back to Mom. “We have to help her on a homework assignment, but don’t worry. No electric guitars. At least not today.”

  She waited until Jane pulled the front door shut in Mom’s face before she burst out laughing.

  I froze in place, unbudging, my arms folded. “I do not need you guys laughing at me. I already get that at school.”

  Liz tugged on my arm. “What you really don’t need is Mom on your ass. We’re here to rescue you, remember?”

  “Maybe I don’t need rescuing.”

  “Hey, everyone needs rescuing once in a while.”

  Jane grabbed my other elbow as the three of us headed to Jane’s Prius. “Believe it or not, Liz is right. Just don’t tell her I said so. Her head is already big enough.”

  “True.” Liz winked. “But just imagine how impossible I’d be if I played electric guitar!”

  Chapter 11

  “But I confess they would have no charms for me. I should infinitely prefer a book.”

  — Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, Volume II, Chapter Sixteen

  As Jane swung past the south side of the Mall of America on her way to the west ramp, I glanced up at the huge sign on the building and felt my stomach clench. What was so wrong with me that it needed fixing at the Mall of America? My pathological tendency to barf on roller coasters? My yearning for the comfort of a faded pair of overalls?

  “C’mon, Mar— I mean, MB.” Jane held the door open. I finally noticed that we’d parked, and she and Liz had already gotten out. In fact, Liz was halfway to the entrance.

  Shrugging, I climbed out of the back seat and trudged toward the mall, straggling behind Jane.

  She turned around to signal me to move faster. “It won’t be as bad as you think. Really. You like your new clothes, remember?”

  My memory wasn’t quite as good as hers on that point, but I sped up. On top of everything else, I didn’t need Jane and Liz ditching me at the mall. Jane waited for me at the entrance, but Liz was nowhere in sight.

  “I thought we’d do a little shopping, grab some lunch, and then see about your hair.” Jane studied my head until I flinched. “While we’re shopping, we can talk about what you’d like to do with your hair.”

  Jane wears her blond hair in a chin-length bob, which would look stupid on me but of course looks perfect on her. Everything looks perfect on Jane, and I don’t think she even tries that hard. Liz has longer brown hair more like mine—except that mine is thinner and mousier and always looks too shiny, almost greasy, even in a ponytail. All the shampoo in the world didn’t help. I privately thought it was yet another crime Jane Austen had committed against me.

  I touched my ponytail. “I’m not sure what I want to do with my hair. It’s hopeless.”

  “Nothing is hopeless, least of all you.”

  Jane kept saying all these nice things the last week or so, but a petty part of me couldn’t help wondering where she’d been during the seventeen years before that.

  “Are you two coming?” Liz reappeared, toting a Diet Coke. The sight triggered a flashback of Josh that day he brought me a large cup of Diet Coke in the amusement park.

  Josh. I sighed.

  Jane eyed Liz’s Diet Coke. “Gee, thanks for the Diet Coke. But why do I see only one? Aren’t you two planning on getting one?”

  “Ha ha.” Liz took a huge slurp for our benefit. “You’re right; I should’ve gotten you guys one. It’s such a pain in the butt finding something other than Pepsi here, and I was so busy getting annoyed that I forgot you.”

  Liz forgot me whether or not she was annoyed. But—

  “What do you mean, it’s hard to find?”

  “Almost impossible. I think I’ve found a whopping three places in this entire mall that sell Coke products, and that’s only after extensive research.”

  Jane laughed, shaking her head, and reached for Liz’s Diet Coke. Liz whipped it away from her, whooping as she did.

  I frowned. I was also getting thirsty. “Josh bought me one. In the amusement park that day.”

  “Well, raise the flag.”

  “Liz!” Jane frowned at her before turning to me. “In the amusement park? There’s only Pepsi there.”

  “But it’s huge.”

  “Huge and filled with Pepsi products. Only Pepsi products. Does Josh happen to know you like Diet Coke?”

  He didn’t even like me. “It must’ve been a lucky guess.”

  Liz shook her head. “Guys don’t usually notice things like that. Maybe he likes Coke. Or Diet Coke.”

  I tried to picture what he drank at lunch in the cafeteria. Milk? I had no idea. He’d only sat with me twice, and I’d mostly ignored him.

  I’d been acting like a guy, apparently.

  Jane looked interested. “But maybe he likes Mary—I mean, MB—more than he likes Coke products.”

  “
And runs all over this huge mall just to find her a Diet Coke.” Liz snorted. “Sorry, but I doubt it. Especially since she claims they weren’t on a date.”

  “We weren’t!”

  Jane lifted one eyebrow. “When you’re first getting to know a guy, you don’t necessarily call it a date.”

  “Yeah, you call it making out.”

  “Liz!”

  Jane whapped Liz’s arm, and Liz playfully slugged her back, but I stayed out of the line of fire. Playfully or not, Liz packed a punch. I also couldn’t get used to the easy banter between Jane and Liz, even though I’d seen snatches of it all my life. Even when they disagreed—which was often, since they were so different—they had fun together. I didn’t have anyone like that in my life. I suspected I never would.

  I cleared my throat. “Are we going to covet Liz’s Diet Coke all day, or are we going shopping?”

  Jane grabbed my arm. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  The critical moment was upon me.

  “Bangs? Or no bangs?”

  “You’d look good in bangs, MB.” Next to Liz, Jane hovered behind my hairdresser, Norman, annoying the crap out of him as far as I could tell.

  “You’re fine without bangs.” Liz folded her arms and tilted her head, studying me in the mirror’s reflection.

  Of course, Liz didn’t wear bangs, and she generally thought that what was good for her was good for everyone else. Except Jane. Even Liz wouldn’t dare mess with Jane’s looks the way they both messed with mine on our day’s shopping adventure, costing me big bucks and bigger exasperation.

  I looked in the mirror. Instead of long, wet hair, I saw a rag doll being yanked on both arms by Jane and Liz. I tried to picture bangs. I kept seeing the eight-year-old girl I’d been, with bangs and without a clue about the lousy destiny I’d been given. In short, relatively happy.

  “Bangs.”

  If nothing else, it would annoy Liz.

  Jane clapped her hands. Sure enough, Liz slapped her. Norman shooed both of them out to the waiting area.

  Half an hour later, I rejoined them. Jane stared at me as if she didn’t recognize me. “MB?”

  Liz blinked. “Mary?”

  Jane slapped Liz. “She wants to be called MB.”

  Actually, I wasn’t sure I did anymore. Could the mildly cute girl I saw in the mirror a minute ago be named MB? For that matter, was she still Mary Bennet? Was she someone who would even talk to Mary Bennet? Was she still me?

  Liz recovered first. “Whatever you want to be called, you look good.” She whistled. “Hot.”

  “I am not hot.” Lukewarm, maybe. And starting to flush.

  Jane patted my arm. “My advice? Take the compliment. Liz doesn’t give too many of them.”

  Liz swatted Jane’s butt.

  “See what I mean?” Jane led me past the reception desk, where she’d already paid for my haircut. Her treat. “Liz isn’t fit for decent society.”

  Liz rolled her eyes, then nodded at me. “You do look good. Really. You were right about the bangs, and your hair even flips up a little when it’s shoulder length. I wish I could get my hair to do that.”

  I fluttered a tentative hand through the ends of my hair, not recognizing myself. “I’m not sure whether my hair does that naturally, or if Norman did it.”

  “Well, Josh is going to go nuts over the new look.”

  “I don’t want Josh to—”

  Jane put a restraining hand on Liz. “That’s not what this is about. Josh has been a complete jerk to MB.”

  “Maybe not a complete jerk. Just mostly.” I think.

  “You said he annoyed you. You said everyone annoyed you.”

  Liz put a hand to her heart. “Even us?”

  “Probably especially the two of us, after we dragged her shopping and then to a hairdresser.”

  “We rescued her from Mom’s clutches.”

  I froze, trying to imagine Mom’s reaction when we got home. She’d probably still be pissed about me not playing piano, and now she’d be pissed about me getting my hair cut without her permission. Even though I’d be turning eighteen in two weeks and, if I had anything to say about it, gone from our house forever a year from now.

  Jane patted me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about Mom’s reaction. She’ll love your hair. Maybe she’ll even forget about the piano.”

  Liz piped in. “Yeah, she’ll probably just spank you a few times, and that’s the end of it.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “So she’ll act like you?”

  “You got that right.” And she swatted me. On the butt.

  “Jane! What did you do to Mary?”

  Jane, who never got blamed for anything, froze by the front door. Liz slipped past her and escaped upstairs, and I tried to follow.

  “Don’t even think about leaving.” Mom shot me her best courtroom glare. She probably terrified her own clients. “I have a few things to say to you.”

  Dad straightened up from warrior pose, his knees creaking a bit, and took a step toward me. I quivered slightly even though Jane was right next to me, propping me up, and Dad actually had a smile on his lips.

  He glanced over his shoulder at Mom, who—despite claiming to be back on Atkins—was wiping what looked suspiciously like chocolate frosting off her mouth. Then Dad looked back at me and smiled more broadly. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked at me like that. Probably before I’d thrown up on him on the roller coaster at age ten.

  “I think what you mean to say, my dear, is that Mary has a very nice new haircut.”

  “Yes, well, I—”

  “And she’s wearing a nice new outfit.”

  “Howard . . .”

  Jane had bribed me with a Cinnabon if I’d stuff my overalls in my shopping bag and wear my new top and khaki shorts from American Eagle home, along with my new Birkenstock sandals. As it turns out, I’m susceptible to bribes.

  Dad went on in the face of Mom’s sputtering. “And it really doesn’t matter if she stops playing piano.”

  The sputtering stopped. Mom stepped closer, hands on her hips. “I am not agreeing to that.”

  I took a step backward, but I felt Jane’s hand against the small of my back, almost supplying me with a spine. “I can stop if I want to. And I want to.”

  Mom just glared at me. Jane’s hand kept pressing against me, a bit harder now, and I lurched forward.

  Dad held out a hand. “Now, now, there’s no need to launch yourself at your mother.”

  “I wasn’t launching—”

  “But perhaps you should explain to your mother, as you did to me, your reasons for wanting to quit playing piano.”

  I didn’t remember giving Dad any reasons. Once I mentioned the electric guitar, he started laughing, ending the discussion.

  “You mentioned that your sisters didn’t have to play, except Liz, and even Liz quit by your age.”

  Okay, so I had said that. But it sounded a little whiny and pathetic coming out of Dad’s mouth. Had I given him any other reasons? Any better ones?

  As if he heard me, Dad started ticking my so-called reasons off on his fingers. “And it’s your senior year of high school, when you need to be focusing on your college search.”

  I snorted, and Jane poked me in the back. But geez. Anyone in this family with half a brain knew there was no point in college searches. Dad’s mid-life yoga crisis, along with investing all his money with a notorious scam artist, had put an end to that. At this point, only Ms. Kieran was still holding out hope, but she probably didn’t have much else to do with her days, stuck in the media center with a bunch of hormone-crazed slackers.

  Dad ignored my raised eyebrows. “And you mentioned wanting to get a few other activities on your résumé.”

  My jaw dropped.

  For all of Dad’s enlightenment—courtesy of Deepak Chopra and the hours he spent navel-gazing in the middle of a yoga mat—the guy was normally as obtuse as the next dad, but I didn’t have a clue where he was going now.
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br />   I remember the day he told Mom that Lydia would be going to an elite boarding school in Montana—as opposed to reform school, where she actually went—so maybe he was just blowing smoke at Mom again. In Lydia’s case, I think he wanted to keep Mom from killing him. In my case? No clue.

  The crease running down the middle of Mom’s forehead could rival the Grand Canyon. Okay, exaggeration, but Mr. Skamser had talked about the appropriate use of hyperbole just yesterday, and Mom always inspired a good fit of hyperbole.

  “Is that true, Mary? Your father isn’t talking about electric guitar again, is he?”

  Dad made a sign of the cross on his chest.

  “Uh . . .”

  Jane’s knuckles left my back as she took a step forward. “Now, here’s something interesting. Did you know that Mary wants to be called MB? And not Mary?”

  Dad’s lips twitched, which didn’t exactly seem like a normal reaction, but Mom looked bug-eyed. And possibly apoplectic.

  “MB? MB isn’t a girl’s name, and I didn’t name her MB! Her name is Mary, and you’re just trying to distract me.” It was actually a bit surprising that she realized it. “You know perfectly well that I gave each of you girls very specific names, and those are the names we use.”

  “Like Liz?” Jane smiled sweetly at Mom.

  “Elizabeth is a bit long, I admit. But the rest of you—”

  “Or Cat?” Dad put his arm around Mom. The entire cavalry had rolled in, ready and willing to distract Mom for my sake, which was beyond weird.

  “Well, Kitty didn’t exactly—”

  “Kitty?” Dad pushed his glasses higher on his nose, reminding me of me. “Didn’t you mean Catherine?”

  “Kitty— I mean, Cat— I mean—” Mom kept sputtering, finally throwing both hands in the air. “You know perfectly well what I mean.”

  “Yes, we all do, my dear. You named our girls after the daughters in Pride and Prejudice, much to the horror of all of our daughters.” Dad bit off a grin. “Except perhaps for Cat and Lydia. I’m not sure that either one has yet read the book or, for that matter, is aware it exists.”

  Dad shook his head, totally overplaying his hand. Was it even possible that Cat and Lydia hadn’t read The Book? Even if their English teachers hadn’t assigned it yet, how could they remain blissfully ignorant of the one thing in the world that affected all of our lives more than anything else?