Bead-Dazzled (13 page)

“I promised Holly,” she reminded him, entering the bathroom. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over the sink. Most of her pale brown hair had fallen out of her low ponytail. The steam from the stove had caused the little hairs framing her face to curl and frizz and her cheeks to flush. Bits of the beets and berries that she’d strained had dripped on her field-day tee. “Oh, boy. I need a total transformation.”

“Beyond my abilities. My work here is done.” Charlie grabbed his laptop and backpack.

“What work?” Emma teased. She bent and gripped the edges of the huge plastic bin to dump the turmeric-tinged water into the tub and down the drain. Her mom expected the bathroom clean when she got home from dinner.

She grunted as she lifted. Gallons of liquid made the bin heavier than she’d expected. The yellow liquid sloshed about, as the middle strained and buckled under the weight. She bent her knees to steady herself then began to inch the bin back toward the tub.

“You need help.” Charlie lurched toward her, his laptop hastily shoved under his arm.

She saw the flash of Charlie’s blond hair before her socks slid against the tiles, damp from the dripping fabric. Her feet tried desperately to connect with the floor, but she was already airborne, tumbling backward, the force of the bin pushing against her chest.

Landing in the tub on her backside, she dropped the bin to break her fall with her hands. Instantly, a waterfall of spicy, yellow water drenched her entire body.

Wetness poured down her forehead and into her eyes and ears. Her clothes stuck to her body. Her hair matted to her head. Her eyes stung.

Charlie doubled over, letting out short, hyena-like bursts of laughter, unable to control himself. “Are you okay?” he sputtered.

Emma stood. “Yeah. I’m wet.”

“And yellow.” Charlie dissolved into another fit of laughter. Somehow he’d managed to stay out of reach of the splashdown.

Emma’s eyes widened as she viewed herself in the mirror. “I’m like Big Bird!”

“Or Lisa Simpson,” Charlie added.

Emma cringed. She was covered in the turmeric dye. Her face, neck, and arms glowed a Pokémon-shade of yellow. And while she’d always tried for highlights in the summer with lemon juice, the streaks in her hair were now more Crayola than sun-kissed.

She began to giggle. “I look like a dyed Easter egg.”

“More like you were dipped in yolk.” Charlie shook his head in amazement. “You smell like mustard.”

Emma stepped out of the tub and tried to wring out her shirt. The beet globs had mixed with the turmeric to create a funky orange mess on her chest.

“At least my fabric is all safe.” She let out a sigh of relief.

And then the doorbell rang.

Emma let out a shriek.

It rang again.

“Maybe it’s Holly,” Charlie said, “back with the vinegar.”

“She has keys.” Emma’s stomach twisted, as she stared at herself in the mirror then turned away. Her hair was plastered about her face. Yellow water dripped onto her shoulders and the floor. She watched a puddle collect about her smelly wet socks. “You get the door.”

“Me?” Charlie looked suddenly unsure. “No way. I didn’t want anything to do with this movie thing.”

The bell chimed again.

Emma’s head spun. Maybe Holly had forgotten that she had keys. That was possible, right?

She grabbed a big bath towel and wrapped it around her middle. She twisted her hair up in a smaller towel. Then she padded quietly to the door.

Please let it be Holly,
she murmured to her herself.
Please.

She pushed her eye to the peephole.

Jackson and Clayton stood side-by-side, their faces large, grinning, and distorted by the angle. She could make out the top of Lexie’s shiny, dark hair behind them. And then she caught sight of Ivana’s wicked grin.

She froze. Now what?

She sensed Charlie coming up behind her.

Her fingers flew to flick the switch on the wall, casting the hall into darkness. She whirled about, grabbed Charlie’s arm with one hand and put her fingers to her lips with the other. Silently, she dragged him into the kitchen. She shut those lights, too.

“What’re we doing?” Charlie whispered.

“Hiding.” It seemed like the only solution. There was no way she was letting Jackson—or Ivana—see her like this.

“Under the cover of darkness?”

“They’ll think no one is home. They’ll go away.”

“This is silly.” Charlie shook free of her grip.

“Do you have a better plan? Look at me!” Her whispered voice grew high and thin. She heard muffled voices coming from the hall.

Charlie slumped onto a chair. “Good point.” The doorbell rang four times in a row. “Persistent, aren’t they?”

“They’ll give up,” Emma assured him. She was positive Ivana and Lexie would be only too happy to leave her behind.

She waited in the silence, straining her ears to catch their voices again.

Then she heard an unmistakable giggle. A giggle she’d been listening to since she was four. Holly was back!

A key jiggled in the lock. The front door squeaked open.

“I don’t know why she didn’t answer. I just went to the store to—hey, that’s weird. Why’s it so dark?” Holly’s surprised voice rang out through the apartment.

Emma glanced frantically about the kitchen. Would hiding under the table do anything?

“Emma? Where are you?”

“It smells weird in here.” Emma didn’t need to be in the hall to picture the disgusted face Ivana was making.

“Anyone home?” Jackson called.

Charlie raised his hands. Emma shook her head. She wished she’d thought to write a note and leave it in the hall.

“Emma? Are you okay?” Holly’s tone changed. Emma heard the panic and instantly felt bad. She was hiding from her best friend and the boy she liked—and scaring them.

“In here!” she called out. She’d just have to face them.

Holly stepped through the doorway first, with Jackson, Clayton, Ivana, and Lexie right behind. She reached for the switch, flooding the small kitchen with light.

Lexie gasped. Ivana let out a self-satisfied shriek.

“Em, you’re wet!” Holly cried out.

“And yellow,” Clayton added.

She knew all of that. She readied herself to explain what happened, but then she heard Jackson.

Laughing.

At her.

LIVING DANGEROUSLY

I
t’s over, she realized, staring down at her yellow-stained hands. Not that it’d ever really started. He was laughing at her.

Good-bye to the Jackson-Emma couple concept.

It took less than a minute, but she pulled a recovery and burst out laughing, too. Grandma Grace had taught her this back in elementary school. She’d always preach, “If you can’t make it better, laugh at it.” Grandma Grace was a big believer in being able to laugh at yourself. And Emma had to admit this was funny. If she couldn’t laugh at herself now, then when?

She stopped laughing when Ivana pulled out her cell phone and began snapping photos. “Whoa!” she cried, raising her arms in protest. It wasn’t post-all-over-the-web funny.

“Back down.” Charlie stepped in front of Ivana.

“But she looks so precious!” Ivana smirked, turning up the collar of the fitted leather jacket she wore over skinny black pants.

“And yellow!” cried Lexie.

“There’s more yellow dye where that came from,” Charlie warned. “You’ll be looking like SpongeBob’s twin sister if you don’t delete those photos.”

Ivana narrowed her eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

Charlie shrugged. “If you want to live dangerously….”

Emma was impressed. Charlie had never stood up for her like that before.

“What’s going on?” Jackson’s gaze darted between Emma’s dripping yellow-ness and Charlie all up in Ivana’s face.

“I had a little fabric dying accident.” Emma smiled. “Crazy, right?”

“How do you figure in?” Jackson nodded toward Charlie.

“Trying to supervise, man. Not easy. Home pigmentation is a perilous business.” Charlie stepped away from Ivana, who’d tucked her phone into her blue suede wristlet.

“I don’t get it.” Clayton ran his palm over his buzzed hair. “Why do you reek like curried chicken?”

“I used a spice to color the dye—” Emma began.

“Who cares? It’s gross,” Lexie said. “You can’t expect us to sit with you. You smell.”

“Emma’s going to jump in the shower, aren’t you?” Holly raised her brows meaningfully at her friend.

“There’s no time.” Lexie turned to go.

“She’s super fast. She’ll be ready in seconds,” Holly promised.

“Please! She needs a spin cycle in the washing machine” Ivana raised her arms, shooting the cuffs of her electric blue top from her jacket. “Shannon and Kevin are meeting us. We can’t be late. We’ll get bad seats, and I hate bad seats.”

“She’s right,” Clayton agreed. “Plus the opening sequence is supposed to be killer.”

“We’ll go.” Lexie linked her arms through Jackson’s arms. “You guys could try to meet us. Or not.” She pulled Jackson out of the kitchen. Ivana followed with Clayton.

“But Emma will shower fast.” Holly’s voice came out high and pleading, as she followed behind. Emma knew she was calculating the potential damage of leaving Clayton with Lexie, Ivana, and Shannon.

“You go,” Emma nudged Holly toward Clayton. “Go to the movie now.”

“You’ll be there?” Jackson reached out to touch Emma’s wet sleeve.

“Sure.” Emma stared down at his hand.

“Really for sure?” His voice was quiet, so the others couldn’t hear as they left the apartment.

“Really for sure.” She had no interest in watching a movie with the Ivana-Bees, but she’d ditched Jackson once already. He seemed to really want her there. She had to show this time. “I promise.”

“Okay.” Jackson grinned and left with the others.

“Awkward much?” Charlie asked when they were, once again, alone in the apartment.

“I’m toast if Ivana posts those photos.”

“You’re probably toast on Monday with or without the hard evidence,” he pointed out.

“Wonderful.” Emma dashed into her parents’ clean bathroom and did a power scrub in their shower, while Charlie watched TV in the family room. She knotted her wet hair into a fishtail braid and threw on her favorite worn jeans, and the three layered tops she’d planned along with tan suede booties. She added a last-minute accessory—a fuzzy gray scarf that she wrapped around her head like a hoodie to hide her yellow-infused hair. The shower hadn’t completely erased her turmeric tinge. She wondered if now wasn’t time to come up with a new design of the burka—the full body covering Muslim women wore—for when girls like her needed to conceal as much skin and hair as possible.

Charlie gave an exaggerated sniff as she entered the room. “Interesting scent. A woody, Oriental perfume with undertones of curry.”

“Okay, so I couldn’t completely mask the smell. But it’s better, right?” Emma gave a hopeful smile. “The bottle promised an air of mystery.”

“Yes, one could say this whole night is quite the mystery.” Charlie leaned back onto the sofa cushions.

“You’re coming with me?” Emma asked. “You’re not sending me into that movie theater alone like this?”