“Of course.”
As Rose sat in the chair, an oldies station blasted away. She’d never paid much attention to music, but now she could barely sit still from an urge to nod her head and shimmy-shake. One song in particular really stuck with her, even though it was almost sixty years old. “Changes” by David Bowie. “Strange fascination, fascinating me . . . pretty soon now you’re gonna get older . . . ch-ch-ch-ch-changes . . .” She couldn’t wait to download it to her phone.
Bridget gave her a quick blow-dry and said, “What do you think?”
In the mirror Rose saw a girl with short dark hair just above her chin. She pushed one side behind her ear and left the other side in front. “It’s perfect.”
She also stopped in at the thrift store just down the street, Second Nature. She had to have a jean jacket. But not just any old jean jacket. It had to suit the new haircut, complement it. She tried on half a dozen jean jackets, and every time she looked in the mirror and turned around to see her back, something was missing. Very disappointing, but she would keep looking for exactly the right one.
On Tuesday morning Rose had to sign up for six hours of school service, which was a tenth-grade requirement this semester. A great opportunity, she thought, to try something new and exciting. She read the list of choices: caring for soil-free plants in the school greenhouse, after-school tutoring, assistant crossing guard. But something else grabbed her. Mr. Slocum needed a lab assistant. No students ever signed up to work with him—why would they? Mr. Slocum was the most hated teacher in school, and he seemed to have a particular dislike for her. Maybe by the end of the six hours, Mr. Slocum would tolerate her better, even like her. Which was as worthy a project as any.
Rose sat down to lunch with Kim again. Kim, true to form, was wearing a purple shirt over maroon pants and, around her throat, a blue scarf with black stars. Rose knew she herself had to stop wearing overalls and flannel shirts, but Kim’s style was not the direction she had in mind.
“Do you like my hair?” Rose asked. “The guy at the scanner said I look like Barbara Stanwyck, whoever that is.”
“You mean Cooper Sosa?”
“Who?”
“At the scanner. He’s cute.”
Rose glanced at him and shrugged. His eyebrows were way too thick and his hair too messy (and not in a good way, like Nick’s). Not to mention she’d be surprised if he reached her chin.
“Maybe not conventionally cute,” Kim said. “He only transferred here last year. We hang out sometimes. He’s super nice.”
“Really? Yesterday he said my smile looked Photoshopped.” Rose hadn’t thought that had bothered her, but here she was, repeating it.
“And today he said you look like a movie star. He’s really into old movies. His parents own a diner right next to the old movie house—”
“You still haven’t said.” Rose pointed to her hair.
“Oh, yeah. It’s fine.”
“I tried to find a jean jacket yesterday, and I couldn’t. Don’t you think a jean jacket would look great with this haircut? Also, I need red lipstick. Something between a cherry and a tomato. But not cherry tomato—ugh!”
“You don’t wear makeup,” Kim said, suddenly agitated. “You just don’t. Even when you barely spoke to me, I noticed you don’t wear it, and I always liked that, because we’re, like, the only girls who don’t.”
Rose was fully aware that she and Kim hadn’t been that close recently. Why did she have to bring it up? “Ironic,” she said coolly, “seeing that you’re doing the makeup for the school play. You’re like a makeup expert, Kim.”
“Stage makeup is a whole other thing. It’s not realistic and it’s not supposed to be—”
“Do you think Nick Winter will like my hair?” Rose cut her off.
Nick still didn’t notice her in bio. Astrid and Selena didn’t say a word about her hair, though they were whispering. Rose didn’t want to intrude; maybe one had a problem and the other was helping her. That was what friends did for each other, after all. How lonely it must be, Rose thought, to be without friends.