School of Charm (13 page)

“Your grandpa wouldn't allow that. He had this big house for her to take care of. And he wanted to start a family.”

I stared at the pictures of little Ruthie-Grandma and all those animals. “Why didn't she just get a whole bunch of pets? That's what I would've done.”

“Grandpa thought animals were only good for being hunted and for eating.”

“But still, not even a dog or a cat?”

Mama sighed. “Oh, Chip. You ask more questions than a newspaper reporter. Sometimes when you lose something you love, it's better not to think of it at all.” Her voice got quiet. “It just hurts so darn much, you push it right out of your mind so you don't think about what's gone.” She twisted her fingers in her lap and spun her wedding ring around and around on her finger. “That's what Grandma did with animals and those dreams of hers. Tucked 'em away.”

I swallowed hard and watched to see if Mama was going to cry. But she stood up. “Let's go, girls.”

I stopped and looked back in the room. “Wait. That explains why she doesn't like animals, but why didn't she like Daddy?”

Charlene glared at me. “Hush, Chip!”

“It's Brenda,” I protested. “I'm Brenda, now.”

Charlene rolled her eyes. “Chip suits you way more than Brenda.”

Mama ran a hand through her hair and looked at the floor, not even paying attention to our squabbling. “Grandma didn't like Daddy because she had big dreams for me. All the big dreams she had wanted for herself.” She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, like she was trying to shake an idea away. “And when I got married so young, she blamed your daddy. But we were getting ready for Charlene,” she said slowly, opening her eyes, “and we wanted to get married real fast.” She was looking at Charlene while she said this.

Charlene's eyes got real wide. “What? You never told me.”

Mama reached her hand out toward her. “Charlene—”

“I'll be in my room.” She pushed her way out the door to leave.

Mama stood, frozen, and bit her knuckle.

I tugged on Mama's shirt. “Why is she so upset? Grandma likes her. If you got married getting ready for Charlene, shouldn't she be mad at Charlene instead of me?” I asked.

Mama rubbed her eyes. “She's not mad at you, Brenda. She's hard on you because you are just like your father. And it was easier to be angry with him than it was with me. And maybe she sees some of herself in you. The way she used to be when she was little. Maybe it reminds her of everything she gave up.”

I stomped my foot. “It's not fair. I didn't do anything. I finally have a grandma and she is nothing at all like a grandma should be.”

Mama rubbed my back. “You've gotta love people for who they are, even if they aren't what you were hoping for.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Doesn't seem like Grandma knows that.”

She looked at me like she was going to say something. Then she sighed. “I have to go check on Charlene.”

Ruthie chased after Mama, and I sank down onto the stair, wishing I'd just gone out for ice cream instead of unlocking all this trouble.

 

H
ALF AN HOUR LATER
, G
RANDMA CAME BACK INSIDE
and went into her bedroom.

She didn't come out of her room for the rest of the night. Mama went out to buy us ice cream from the grocery store, and we ate it in front of the TV in the family room. No one said much, and it was all my fault.

I stirred the ice cream in my bowl until it turned into soup. I wished I hadn't snooped and learned the truth about all those pictures. Because now I felt mad at her
and
sorry for her. And those two feelings were hard to feel at the same time.

I headed for bed early, and Charlene caught up to me. She grabbed my arm. “You are ruining everything. Stop butting heads with Grandma. Are you trying to make things worse? It's only upsetting Mama,” she hissed.

“I'm trying to fit in, Charlene.”

“Try harder.” She let go of me and marched back downstairs.

And how was I supposed to do that? I crawled into bed and kept thinking about the pictures and those carved animals. I set Deady Freddy next to me in bed and stared at the ceiling. “Grandma doesn't like me because I remind her of the way she used to be,” I whispered to Freddy. “Learning more about Grandma hadn't helped at all.” I stroked his feathers as I lay there, running things through my head. My only chance to get along with Grandma was to show her that I was like her now. I had to do whatever it took to be a good beauty queen. I imagined eating cheesecake off fancy plates and all of us girls hanging our dresses with Mama's old gowns in Grandma's closet. This had to work.

chapter sixteen

T
HE NEXT MORNING
, I
FOUND
M
ISS
V
ERNIE INSIDE AT
her dining room table with Dana and Karen.

“Miss Vernie, you need to put a whole bunch of makeup on me and make me look totally different. Like a beauty queen.”

“Looking totally different isn't the key, Brenda. You want to be yourself onstage.” Miss Vernie pinched together a pair of tweezers as she and Karen sat at her dining room table sorting through her makeup supplies.

No, I don't
,
I thought. I needed a whole new look. I needed to be Brand-New Brenda.

“You don't seem like the makeup type,” Dana said.

“Well, I'm going to be.”

“Me too. I love makeup,” Karen said, inspecting the different colors of eye shadow laid out in front of her.

Miss Vernie patted the chair next to her. “Sit down, Brenda. Just a few touches here and there will do the trick.” A feathery brush tickled my eyelids. Then she coated my eyelashes with mascara.

“Part your lips,” Miss Vernie said.

I did, and she slicked on a coat of lipstick. I smacked my lips together. “Yuck, it tastes waxy. And my eyes feel itchy.”

“You're just not used to it.” Miss Vernie handed me a mirror. “What do you think?”

I looked at myself. “I don't look that different.”

“Like I said, it's just a touch of makeup to bring out the beauty that's already there.”

“But I thought I'd look totally different.” I tracked my fingers over the pink mark on my cheek. “And shouldn't we cover this up? It's embarrassing.”

Miss Vernie set down a tube of lipstick. “We can if that makes you feel more comfortable, Brenda.”

“It will.”

“Then I'll bring foundation for you on the day of the pageant.” Miss Vernie smoothed the back of my head.

“What do you think we should do with our hair?” Karen asked, flipping through a magazine.

“Most girls wear it down. But you wear it however you like. I've said it before: the key is being yourself.”

Silently I disagreed.

“This is my only look.” Dana patted her hair in the mirror.

“And it's beautiful on you,” Miss Vernie told her.

“I guess I'll wear my hair down,” Karen said. “And I'm going to use some lemon juice so it'll be nice and bright. Mom's going to take me to the salon for a new cut. What about you, Brenda?”

I shrugged. “Maybe I'll put it in a braid.”

Karen grabbed my shoulders. “No way. You need a style—not just straight—if you want to win.”

I shoved my hands in my pockets. “I don't have enough money left.”

“I'll cut it for you. One of my
Teen Beat
magazines had exact instructions on how to cut your hair just like Farrah Fawcett from
Charlie's Angels
does, with the big feather flips. I've practiced on my dolls. I'll bring the magazine and some scissors tomorrow. Please?” She folded her hands like she was begging.

“Okay.” Charlene had her hair cut with big feather flips. Maybe having the same haircut as a TV star could help Brand-New Brenda be a beauty queen.

 

T
HE NEXT MORNING
, I
MET
K
AREN AND
D
ANA EARLY
on Miss Vernie's back porch. Karen draped a towel around my shoulders, then flipped open her magazine. “Okay, first I'm supposed to pull it up and run my fingers through it.” She fluffed my hair and pulled it in all sorts of directions. Dana was snickering at the table, reading her magazine.

Karen held the scissors in the air and finally made her first snip at the back of my head. A thick clump of my honey-colored hair fluttered to the floor.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” I asked. I looked for Miss Vernie to speak up, but she was outside in her garden. So I closed my eyes and hoped for the best. The metal blades sliced against each other as Karen cut another section. Karen's breath caught.

Dana coughed and her chair scraped along the floor, and I opened my eyes and saw her hand fly to her mouth. “It'll grow back,” Dana whispered.

I reached up to touch my hair. I grabbed a mirror.

“It looks good,” Karen said, trying to convince us both.

“This does not look like the magazine.” My voice was shaky. The sides were uneven and did not fold back into feathery wings. It just looked chopped up.

Karen put her hand on her hip. “Well, of course not. Not yet. We need to use a curling iron. I brought one. Let's go to the bathroom and plug it in.”

We went inside. We usually used Miss Vernie's little bathroom off her kitchen, but that one didn't have an outlet. This time, we walked past her bedroom to the big bathroom with a counter and giant mirror. “Should we ask first?” I said, not daring to look in the mirror.

“Nah, she knows we're working on your hair. She won't mind if we're in here.” Karen tapped her fingers against the metal barrel of the curling iron, waiting for it to heat up. “There. Now let's see what we can do.”

She closed the pink toilet lid and pushed me down on it. Then she started sliding sections of hair under the clamp of the barrel, leaving big sausage curls behind.

Dana's eyes grew wide. “I don't know much about white girls' hair, but that don't look right.” She left the bathroom.

Karen chewed on her lip. She did that a lot now that she wasn't eating as much. She put in a few more curls while I gripped the cold toilet seat, pressing my knees together.

Dana came back holding a crown.

“What is that?” Karen asked, setting down the curling iron.

“It's a beauty pageant crown,” I whispered. I stood up and took it from Dana. I set it on my head. Even with the horrible haircut I could imagine myself walking and waving with a sparkly crown on my head. Junior Miss Dogwood, 1977. I closed my eyes and smiled.

“Miss Vernie was Miss North Carolina 1939!” Dana said.

My eyes flew open. “What? 1939? No, she wasn't. My grandma was.”

“But look at this.” Dana pulled a photo from behind her back of a much younger Miss Vernie with the Miss North Carolina 1939 sash across her chest and the crown on her head. We stood there examining it. Karen scratched her head.

“I thought it had gotten a little quiet in here.”

We all jumped, and the crown toppled off my head. Miss Vernie stood in the doorway with a flat look in her eyes and tight lips. I almost didn't recognize her.

“I'm sorry.” I wanted to disappear. I bent down to pick up the crown and handed it to her.

“I noticed this stuff in your bedroom when we came in to use your bathroom for curling Brenda's hair,” Dana said, staring at the black and white tiles on the floor.

“Why didn't you tell us you were Miss North Carolina 1939?” Karen asked.

“My grandma said she was Miss North Carolina 1939.” I looked up into her eyes, remembering what Grandma said about Miss Vernie going daft. I wasn't totally sure what that meant, but I knew it wasn't good.

She let out her breath. “It's all very complicated. But I did win.” She fiddled with a button on her dress.

“But my grandma said she won.”

Miss Vernie nodded. “She took over the title for me. My sister died three weeks after I won the crown. I had to give it up.” Her hands were shaking.

“Oh, no!” Karen covered her mouth with her hands.

Tears pricked my eyes. Miss Vernie cleared her throat. “So I stepped down. And Brenda's grandmother, the first runner-up, was named Miss North Carolina 1939.”

My throat tightened. “Grandma didn't tell me that part.”

We stood silently for a moment. The only thing I could hear was a couple of squirrels chattering outside the window.

“That's real sad about your sister,” Dana said. “But why was that a reason to drop out?”

“Dana!” I surprised myself by shouting at her. “Your own mama died! You should know you just might feel like you'll never breathe again. That you might never find your smile again. How could Miss Vernie go around smiling and waving like a beauty queen when something so awful happened? I understand, Miss Vernie, I really do.” I caught a glimpse of my head bobbing in the mirror with those huge curls bouncing.

Dana clutched her hands behind her back. “I didn't say my mama died for sure. I said I think she's dead.”

“How could you not know if your mama's dead or not?” I asked.

She lowered her voice. “Because she left when I was five and I never heard from her again.” Dana studied the floor some more. “She must have died if she didn't come back.”

We were all quiet again. Miss Vernie took the crown from the counter. “I had to resign,” she said softly, “because my sister and her husband were killed in a car crash. My mother was gone, so it was just me and my father left to take care of their son. It was either that or an orphanage, and I wasn't going to let that happen. Father had to work, and I couldn't very well go touring across the state with a baby. It wouldn't have seemed proper. The organizers felt bad about it and let me keep the crown at least, if not the title.”

We all stood there staring at our toes until Miss Vernie said, “Let's comb your hair out and see what we have.” She pulled a pink brush out of a drawer and smoothed out my bushy, uneven hair.

All three of them gawked at me.

“Well . . . ,” Dana started to say something, but then she closed her mouth.

“I don't care. I've never cared what my hair looked like.” Only now I did. I really did.

Karen covered her eyes. “I'm so sorry! I followed the directions in my magazine. I don't know what happened.”

Miss Vernie patted my hand. “Don't fret, Brenda. We can take you to town and get this fixed up at the salon. I'll even pay for it. I shouldn't have left you alone to do this.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“Can we go work in the pond?” Karen sounded desperate.

Miss Vernie nodded, and we ran off, leaving her alone, holding her crown.