I Am the Wallpaper (17 page)

The next night, my mother announced that she was taking me out to dinner, just the two of us. Of course, right away I recognized this for what it was: a blatant attempt to make up for her appalling lack of awareness about my life. I told her no thanks. She wasn’t getting off the hook that easily. But then she told me she’d arranged for Richard and Tish to go across to our neighbor Mrs. Horowitz for the evening, and that she’d made reservations at Cassarino’s in Providence. It was my favorite restaurant and she knew it. I still wouldn’t have gone, though, except then she brought out the clincher:

“And for after dinner,” she said, “I rented us a movie.…”

“You did?” I asked, reluctantly looking up from a biography of Dogen Zenji, a Japanese Zen master from the thirteenth century.

She held up the box. It was
Change of Habit
. In this one, Elvis is an inner-city doctor who falls in love with Mary Tyler Moore, who falls in love with him, too. Unfortunately for them both, she’s actually an undercover nun.

One more relationship down the tubes.

I couldn’t say no. It was another one of our favorites.

In the mail the next day there was an envelope with what looked like Japanese writing printed on the edge.

I’d already told Azra that I’d changed my mind about going to Dean Eagler’s party. Not only had Dean himself invited me, but this would also be a perfect opportunity to unveil the new, extraordinary Floey Packer in a big way. In front of a large crowd of the coolest kids in town I could show off a more confident, more together, happier me than ever before.

But first, I needed to prepare myself. I had a new look in mind.

A little after ten o’clock that night I snuck out my window. Tish promised to stay up and make sure Ma didn’t check on me, but I arranged my pillows under my blanket to make it look like I was sleeping, just in case. Earlier, I’d paid a visit to Lillian’s favorite used clothing store and picked out just the right clothes—a bright yellow strapless dress, funky yellow pumps and a yellow felt hat with a purple flower sewn to the front. It was perfect. Only someone truly confident, truly extraordinary would wear it.

I had to carry my pumps in one hand and pedal my bicycle barefooted. In such a short dress, I was glad it was dark. Still, this would be my first high school party, so I was very excited. Dean Eagler’s long driveway was packed with old cars. There were going to be even more people than I’d expected. By the time I finally reached the front door, my palms were sweating. Stepping over that threshold would be a symbolic moment, a public announcement of my new beginning. But what if nobody noticed? What if people looked right through me, like before?

Then I got a grip on myself. My hair was violet. They’d notice.

I took a deep breath, smiled my most self-confident smile and opened the door. What greeted me was a row of muscle T-shirts. It was a crowd of football players, shouting and laughing about God only knew what. I had to push through them to get by. When the wall of muscles noticed me, it quieted down a little. There aren’t a lot of people with violet hair in my town. Could some of these guys even know about the Web site?

Doesn’t matter, I decided. I pretended not to care.

I shoved my way deeper into the house. I could barely hear anything over the pounding music. Where was Azra, or Dean, or anybody I knew? I kept squeezing my way through the people. Outside in a big garden at the back of the house a bunch of kids my age stood around under the floodlights.

“Floey? Is that you?”

From the other end of the crowded yard, Leslie Dern weaved her way toward me with Kate Bates right behind her. The JCs.

Leslie put her hands to her thin, birdlike face and screamed.
“Aaaah!
Oh my God! What happened to your hair!” She stared at it for a long time and then screamed again. “It looks like you’re wearing a blueberry pie!”

Kate just stood there openmouthed, blinking at me.

“You don’t like it?” I asked, already losing my confidence.

They seemed unsure. Eventually, Kate just stammered, “It’s … well, it’s …”

But then Dean Eagler appeared between them. He looked good, all tanned and relaxed with his black hair slicked back, kind of the happy-go-lucky Elvis from
Fun in Acapulco
. He leaned in toward my head and put one arm on Leslie’s shoulder, the other on Kate’s.

“Floey,” he said, staring in amazement. “Is that really … purple?”

I nodded. “Violet, actually.”

He shook his head and grinned. “Damn, that’s cool.”
Then he stepped forward, wrapped his arms around me and lifted me up. “I’m so glad you made it!”

“Thanks!” I said, relieved, and surprised that my feet no longer touched the ground. I tried to look over at the JCs but I couldn’t turn my head that far with Dean squishing me. “Great party!” I shouted into his shirt.

He set me down and I shot a quick glance behind me. Leslie and Kate were bug-eyed, obviously amazed that Dean Eagler knew me.

“You still have that cold?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “But thanks for asking.” Wow, did he have sexy lips! “Dean, I’d like you to meet my friends Leslie and Kate.”

“Yeah?” He hardly even glanced at them. “Nice to meet you.”

And then he took my hand, squeezed it and gave me another one of his killer smiles. “Gotta go hang with my boys for a minute, but I’ll come find you later.”

“No problem,” I said. “I’ll see you when I see you.”

He curled his lip again and left us. Kate’s and Leslie’s mouths hung open so wide I could practically see their tonsils. It was extremely satisfying.

Leslie leaned in close to me. “Your hair,” she said seriously, “has to be the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life.”

Kate nodded.

Suddenly, I liked them a little better. For the moment, I could almost forgive Leslie for trying to steal Azra.

Chalk one up for the extraordinary, visible New Floey Packer.

Alone again, I found Wen standing against the house, gazing toward the other side of the lawn. He stood out because he was wearing his loud Hawaiian shirt. I was glad to see him. I went over and put my hand on his arm.

“There you are,” I said. “What are you looking at?”

He jumped. I guess I surprised him. When he saw it was me, he practically did a double take. “My God, Floey, what did you do?”

“It’s just dye,” I said casually. “Like it?”

He stared until I felt uncomfortable. Eventually he shrugged. “It’s very New Floey, I guess.”

I was a little disappointed. Of everybody I knew, I’d thought
Wen
would be the quickest to appreciate my new look. But since he didn’t, I changed the subject. “You didn’t answer my first question.”

He nodded toward the back of the yard. “Look. What does that remind you of?”

I tried to see what he meant, but I didn’t see anything except a dozen or so shadowy blobs moving around in the darkness beyond the floodlights. Soon, though, I realized these were people. Each blob was a couple making out in the grass.

“Remind me of? I don’t know. What do they remind
you
of? And how long have you been gawking at them?”

“I’m not gawking,” he said. “I’m just thinking.”

There were people lying on the open lawn, leaning against trees and hiding behind the Eaglers’ bushes. They whispered and kissed, their arms wrapped around each other. Even though I wouldn’t have admitted it, watching those couples made me think of Wen and me, and how it wasn’t meant to be.

I looked at Wen’s sweet face and then back at the people in the shrubs.

“It doesn’t remind me of anything,” I said.

“You know what it reminds me of?” he whispered. “The secret beach. You know—the naked people? Don’t you think so?”

“I guess,” I said, not really meaning it.

He looked embarrassed and shrugged again. “It’s just that they seemed so happy, like they were really in love. I hardly ever see people that happy together—not for long, anyway. Doesn’t it make you think that maybe some people really do live happily ever after?”

It took a second for that to sink in, but when it did my eyes nearly swelled up and popped.

He’d noticed the same thing I had!

Obviously, maybe Wen and I were even more alike than I’d ever suspected. I’d never mentioned anything to anyone
about the Mystery of the Old Naked People. Since I’d written about it only in my spiral notebook, Richard never posted it on the Web page. And yet, here was Wen talking about how lasting love was so rare—the same thoughts I’d been having ever since that night.

Standing so close, I suddenly felt again that he and I had some spiritual connection. If I was one with everything, then I was one with Wen.

“It’s like a movie,” I whispered. “A Zen romance.”

We were standing very close and looking deep into each other’s eyes, and I felt a sudden, strange electricity. An unexpected thrill ran up my legs when I realized we were getting even closer.

“Floey,” he said, “I wanted to talk with you about what you wrote in your diary. About the deal between you and Azra. Don’t I get any say?”

Everything around us dropped away. I felt like we were all alone. I gazed up at him and waited, unable to breathe. I closed my eyes, ready to lean toward him.

But then I caught myself.

This wasn’t right. Azra and I had a
deal
. She was my best friend and she trusted me. Still, I could feel the Old Floey holding on for dear life, trying desperately not to be yanked out of this beautiful Zen moment. I had to get away from here, and right away.

That’s when somebody touched my back.

“Wow, Floey!” Azra’s voice said. “Leslie told me you made some changes, but I had no idea! Is it really you or am I talking to a very tall eggplant?”