Fat Cat (20 page)

"My pleasure," Amanda said. She washed off her hands. "I've got to go check on my tables. Want to come over after work tonight? I think
Casablanca
is on."

"Haven't you already seen that like a hundred times already?"

"So? Love is timeless."

"Nah," I said, "not tonight. I just want to do some laps and go to bed."

"You Olympians are so boring."

"Yeah, well."

"Anyway," she said, "back to Nick. I think you should go. Could be a trip. What's the worst that can happen?"

"Being stuck on a date with Nick."

"Besides that."

"Why did he even ask me?"

"Kitty Cat, have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?"

58

T
here's something about the monotony of swimming laps
. Your mind can just wander. Stroke, stroke,
Nick, Winter Formal
, stroke, stroke,
Russian girl, Greg, Matt, Nick, Peter, can't figure guys out, should have been my research project
, stroke, stroke,
looked at yourself in the mirror lately--

Eureka.

I stopped at the end of the pool and rested my arms on the ledge. My feet kept kicking, I was so excited.

Oh, it was wicked evil. But also kind of genius.

I needed a second opinion. I jumped out of the pool, quickly changed, and then drove to Amanda's house on my way home. She was in the middle of
Casablanca
, but she graciously turned it off.

"I have a new experiment," I said. "Listen." Then I told her my whole idea.

"Is it just too ... wrong?" I asked when I was finished.

"Wrong how? I think it's funny. Besides, you said it yourself--you're just gathering information. It's all very clinical, very scientific."

"But, it's not like I'm tricking people?"

"How?" Amanda asked. "You're just finally accepting your powers--it's about time. There's nothing wrong with seeing how people react to that. And if it's Nick you're worried about," she added, "there's definitely no problem there. He asked you out, you're going to say yes, and then you'll just observe the night as it unfolds, right? In fact, since it's Nick, you could probably just tell him straight-out what you're up to. Superbrain can take it."

She had a point. And that really would make me feel better.

Amanda smiled and cocked her eyebrows. "And you know this means shopping."

59

Day 117, Monday, December 15

Research Project, Phase II:
Effects on male population of changes in female appearance. Experiment #1.

I'm not really sure if I'm going to make this an official portion of my project--I think it might just be for me. But I'm keeping track of it in a separate notebook, just in case I think it's science fair worthy.

Today was my first experiment.

When I walked into Mr. Fizer's this afternoon, Matt noticed. I saw him notice. It was one of the greatest moments of my life.

The clothes were perfect: these soft black pants that flared at the bottom in a way Amanda said made me look taller and skinnier. A tight white knit top beneath a royal blue sweater that crisscrossed over my chest. Pearl stud earrings, my hair long and curly and
unfrizzed (okay, some product in there), and a better makeup job than I've ever done in my life. Amanda made me practice with her this weekend until she was sure I had it right.

It felt weird to wear makeup again. In the past 117 days I've only worn it once, for the Halloween party. But even though it felt wrong in a hominin sense to wear it, I know it's all part of the new experiment. Besides, it's just temporary. I just want to satisfy my curiosity. Isn't that what experiments are for?

I walked up to Nick, very aware that both he and Matt were staring at me.

"I've decided to go with you to the formal," I told Nick. "You can pick me up at six."

He sort of acted surprised that I even needed to say that--as if there were no question I had already said yes. I guess in Nick's world, no one can resist him.

I sneaked a peek at Matt, who quickly looked away. Good.

I spent the class period on the computer, pretending that I didn't notice Matt and Nick taking turns staring at me. What a weird and yet satisfying feeling.

The question is, can I do this right? There are so many variables when you start involving other people. It isn't like working with fig wasps. I can't just crush boys into a petri dish and extract their DNA. Or really, in this case, their whole psychological makeup.

But it's like what Einstein said: "If we knew what we were doing, it wouldn't be called research, would it?"

60

Day 121, Friday, December 19

Phase II, Experiment
#2: Winter Formal.

As soon as school was out I walked home, grabbed a shower, then waited in my robe for Amanda to show up at four-thirty to do my hair and makeup before she had to get to the cafe. I'm taking the night off, obviously. Some things are more important than crafting the perfect vegetarian pizza.

I told Amanda I thought I could handle the primping myself. "Didn't you think I did a pretty good job with my makeup all week?"

"Yes, but this is no time for amateurs. Step aside and let me do my job."

She set up all the tools of her trade, then before getting to work she planted herself in the center of my bedroom and whipped out a sheet of paper.

She cleared her throat. "A poem, in honor of your night:

Beautiful Catherine, her spirit afire

Nick the unwary, consumed with desire

How love finds us sleeping

It ensnares and infects us

As true today

As with
Homo erectus."

I gave her a standing ovation and Amanda took a bow. "Can I have that for my research files?" I asked.

She handed the paper over. "Be my guest. Now, enough chitchat. Time to do some major construction."

By the time she was done, I looked like ... not me.

I could see some of the basic parts--my chin, my cheeks, a few limbs here and there--but the whole girl was unrecognizable.

And a big part of it was the dress.
Amazing
. Amanda found it at a thrift store and surprised me with it. It smelled a little musty, but nothing a little perfume couldn't cover, she said.

She thinks it was from the 1940s or 1950s. It looked liked something Marilyn Monroe could have worn: ivory satin, about calf length, full skirt (the kind that puffs out if you twirl around--we tested that a few times), and a top half that made the most of what I have without being totally slutty about it. Topped off with some fake pearls, smoky eyes, and red, red lipstick, and I looked like I belonged in an old movie. Plus Amanda overrode my complaints and used both a blow-dryer and hot curlers to make my hair look like nothing it's ever been.

A pair of black velvet pumps Amanda lent me, and the look was complete. I was no longer Catherine Locke, Science Wonk. I was Sex Goddess Glamour Queen.

At least that's what Amanda called me. And I don't think it's conceited to agree, since it's not like that was the real me at all tonight. Amanda completely invented me out of satin and lipstick and hair.

Nick showed up at the door two minutes early, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. He looked pretty amazing himself. There's something about a guy in a tux--it's like some fantasy of your wedding day or something. Nick isn't bad-looking anyway, but when I first caught sight of him tonight he sort of took my breath away. I had the passing thought that if not for the circumstances, I might actually be attracted to him. That came as a total shock, since I've known Nick so long and never ever felt that way.

But I put it out of my mind. This wasn't a playdate, it was research. I was on duty.

Still, nothing wrong with being polite. "You look very handsome tonight."

"You too. Wow, Cat." His eyes immediately snapped to the cleavage. But I was ready for that. I knew full well that no part of an actual breast was out there for the world to see--I had checked that in the mirror from several different angles. So even though my inclination was to stand there with my arms folded across my chest, I forced myself to keep them at my sides. I could be a little exposed for one night--this was for science, after all.

Nick was a great multitasker, able to negotiate traffic while at the same time sneaking endless peeks at my chest. I made myself sit on my hands.

"So, where are we going for dinner?" I asked.

"Karmic Cafe. Amanda told me you're a vegetarian now and that's the only place you'll eat."

Oh, she's good. Not only did Amanda look out for my dietary
needs, but this way she ensured she'd get a front-row seat to my date. Clever.

"Mr. Langan," Amanda said regally as we walked in, "so nice to see you this evening. And Miss Locke, aren't you stunning?"

She crisply removed two menus from the stack and escorted us to our table, over in the Famous Vegetarian Scientists section, of course. I started to sit down in the first seat Amanda offered, but she stopped me. "Oh, no, Miss Locke. You should face the room so that everyone can drink in your beauty."

I thought she was pouring it on a little thick--and gave her a look that said so--but she merely smiled in her most professional hostess manner and returned to her station.

I understood right away why Amanda had made me sit there--it was so she could sign to me from across the room.
"You look great!"

Pretending I was covering my mouth to cough, I brought my hand to my chin, then forward and down.
"Thank you."

"Nick looks hot!"

I glanced at my menu while casually nodding my fist twice.

Then more customers arrived, and we both got back to work.

"So," I said, "have you ever been here before?"

"No, I heard the food sucks."

I choked on my water. "I think it's gotten a lot better."

That was about all the small talk I was up for. My parents set my curfew at midnight, but I planned on being home much earlier--this wouldn't take the whole night. But it meant I had only a few hours for observation, and I didn't intend to waste any more of them.

"Look, Nick, we've known each other a long time, right?"

He chomped on a bread stick. "Yeah."

"Since first grade, right? And just because we haven't exactly ... hung out before, we're technically old friends, right?"

"Okay."

"Great." I leaned forward, and his eyes snapped right where I expected. I cleared my throat to regain his attention. "So look, here's the deal. I don't want to play any games tonight--we've known each other too long for that. I want us to be able to relax and be honest with each other--no pressure, you know?"

He gave me a curious look.

"So I'll start," I said. "Do you want to know why I agreed to go out with you tonight? I could say it's because I admire you, I think you're so smart, you're so good-looking, blah, blah, blah. But the truth is, it's because you took me by surprise and I was flattered that you asked me. There--I said it. That's me being honest. Can you take it?"

Nick crunched. "Sure."

"So now it's your turn," I said. "Please be completely honest with me--why did you ask me out?"

He smiled and reached for another bread stick.

"I mean it, Nick. You can tell me. Is it my sparkling personality? My impressive GPA?"

He chuckled.

"So what is it?"

Nick lounged back in his chair. "You really want to know the truth?"

"I really do."

Little did he know I had a research notebook going in my head, and right then it was like I had a pencil poised to write down everything he said.

Because what I decided in the pool a week ago was that maybe Amanda's right. Maybe I've actually achieved that secret result I was aiming for when I first embarked on this whole hominin project.
Maybe in some small way I've actually made myself ... pretty. Or at least better-looking than I was before.

I was starting to feel a little of that when Greg asked me out, but that was almost two and a half months ago, and I've lost a lot of weight since then. I know I look a lot different.

And since I've never really gotten attention for my looks before--except bad attention for being fat--is it so wrong to want to spend a little time here and see what it's like? It's all just for research purposes--sort of a social experiment to see what it's like to be a girl that guys notice. It's like the opposite of what Amanda does. She fools people at school into thinking she's plain. For a little while I'd like to see what it's like not to be.

"I'm serious, Nick. You can tell me the truth--I'm not going to get all weird. Just tell me as a friend--why'd you ask me out?"

Nick took another bite of bread stick, then leaned forward onto his elbows. "Okay, Cat, I'll tell you the truth. It's because I can't believe how incredibly hot you've gotten all of a sudden." His eyes strayed to my chest for about the eightieth time. I was beginning to feel at this point like my breasts should do some kind of trick.

"What happened to you?" Nick asked. "How'd you end up like this? You used to be so large."

Steady ...

"Well, thanks for noticing, Nick. You've always been so observant--that's what makes you such a great scientist."

"So what happened?" he repeated. "Did you have surgery or something?"

Is that really what people think?

"No, nothing like that," I said, smiling politely. "Just good healthy living."

"Very healthy," Nick said appreciatively.

And this time I smiled for real. Because right then I was glad it was Nick who asked me out. Amanda was right--Superbrain could take it. He could deal with some honest conversation and not make it feel weird.

And I realized I could handle it, too. I didn't feel awkward or uncomfortable--or sleepy--around Nick the way I did with Greg. There really is something to be said for hanging out with someone you've known practically all of your life. Even if he keeps staring at your chest.