Mixed Bags (6 page)

DJ glanced at Eliza.

“Maybe not,” said Eliza. “Is that okay?”

“It’s okay with me,” said Clara happily. “Would you like me to inform Mrs. Carter? She went to town for a hair appointment.”

“Yes,” said DJ eagerly. “That’d be great.”

“And there’s some soda in the pantry,” said Clara in a lowered voice, as if she expected to get into trouble. “Mrs. Carter wasn’t too pleased that I bought it, but you could take it with you.”

“Cool,” said DJ.

“You girls run along,” said Clara. “I’ll get it all packed for you.”

“Thanks so much,” said Eliza. Then as she and DJ were going up the stairs, Eliza said, “Clara is really nice.”

DJ laughed. “Yeah, she’s nice because we’re getting out of her hair and now she has the day off.”

“Oh, I get it.”

“Uh, Eliza,” said DJ at the top of the stairs. “Can I ask a favor?”

“Of course.”

So DJ quickly explained that she was starting to feel a little out of place. “I mean it’s obvious that I have never taken fashion seriously. And the more Grandmother bugs me about it, the more I resist. Seriously, that woman makes me want to pull out my hair and scream. But now I’m wondering if I really do need some, uh, help.”

Eliza laughed. “Duh, you need some help. I’m surprised your grandmother hasn’t taken you in for a complete psychological evaluation by now, because I know she thinks you’re totally crazy.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

“Okay, maybe Mrs. Carter takes fashion a little too seriously, but good grief, DJ, you could volunteer to be a permanent placeholder in the
fashion don’t
section of
Style
magazine.”

“That bad?” DJ sighed. “Is it hopeless?”

“Where there is life, there is hope. But we better get started ASAP.” Right there in the hallway, Eliza looked carefully at DJ, scrutinizing every square inch of her. “Well, you have a lot going for you. You are naturally good-looking. The problem is you don’t do anything with it.”

“Because I don’t know what to do.”

Eliza nodded. Then she glanced toward the door to her room. “Kriti will probably get upset if I drag you in there. It’s already too crowded. It’ll help when we get some of our things moved downstairs. Inez is supposed to get on it today. In the meantime, let’s go to your room.”

As DJ led Eliza to her room, she had some serious doubts. What was she getting herself into? And was it a compromise of her values? What about what she’d told Conner last night? What about his concern over high-maintenance girls?

But her doubts were overshadowed by the image of Conner gazing at Taylor at the tennis court earlier, smiling at her with guy-like approval. She had definitely gotten his attention in a way that DJ never had. At least not yet.

“STanD rIGHT THere,”
commanded Eliza as she practically shoved DJ in front of the full-length mirror on her closet door. DJ frowned at her own image. Talk about slumming. Next to Eliza she really did look like a
fashion don’t
. Eliza’s long hair was blonde and shiny. Her makeup was perfect. And her pale blue capri pants and white cropped top looked fresh and stylish, setting off her tan, which DJ suspected came from a bottle since she’d heard Eliza warning them all to use sunscreen this morning. Even Eliza’s sandals and pink-polished toenails were perfect. Picture perfect.

“Let’s start with the hat,” said Eliza, snatching off DJ’s Dodgers cap to reveal her mousy brown roots and hair that was in need of a good long shampoo. Eliza made a face as she tossed the cap to the floor. “DJ,” she said in a scolding tone. “What is up with that hair?”

“I know…it’s dirty.”

“Dishwater blonde and dirty.”

DJ didn’t say anything. She just looked down at her scuffed up blue and white Nikes—a leftover pair from JV volleyball, back before her mom died.

“And your clothes. Do you even
look
in the mirror?” She forced DJ’s chin up with her hand. “Can you
see
yourself?”

DJ looked at herself now. She saw a flush-faced girl in dowdy clothes and greasy hair the color of—what had Eliza called it? Dishwater? Ugh, that did sound terrible.

“I’m a mess,” she admitted.

“They say acceptance is the first step to recovery.” Eliza shook her head in a dismal way. “But I have feeling you’re going to need the whole twelve-step program.”

“What’s that?”

“A joke. It’s a joke.” Eliza leaned forward now and peered closely at DJ’s skin. “What do you use to wash your face?”

“Soap?”

“What kind of soap?”

“The kind that’s in the shower.”

Eliza’s brows shot up. “You use shower soap
on your face
?”

“Soap is soap, isn’t it?”

But Eliza’s expression suggested otherwise. In fact, if DJ hadn’t known better, she might’ve assumed that Eliza thought she’d been washing her face with laundry detergent or maybe Lysol.

“Soap
is
soap, DJ,” she said in a tightly controlled voice. “But soap is
not
for the face.” She pointed to DJ’s nose. “Can you see those blackheads?”

DJ felt alarmed. “You mean like pimples?” She leaned closer to peer at her nose and did notice there were tiny black spots on it. Maybe she’d thought those were freckles. She’d always thought it would be cool to have freckles.

“That’s where pimples begin, DJ. And you need to cleanse them properly and not with some harsh soap.” She let out a long sigh. “Where do I begin?” Then she looked at her watch again. “We don’t quite have an hour.”

“Maybe this is a mistake,” said DJ. “I’m sorry I—”

“No, this is
not
a mistake. Trust me, DJ, this is not a mistake. It’s just that it’s a challenge. A really big challenge.” She pushed DJ’s shoulders back. “Stand up straight, please. Posture is as important as exfoliating.”

“Exfo-what-ing?”

“Never mind.” Eliza stood right next to DJ now, as if comparing their images in the mirror, which DJ felt was not only unkind, but unfair.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to figure out if we’re the same size. It looks close. What size are you anyway?”

“For what?”

“Everything. What size do you wear?”

“Well, for tops, I’m like a medium.”

“A medium? I mean what
number
size.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you don’t look like a medium, that’s for sure. But then everything I’ve seen you in is too baggy anyway. You probably are wearing medium, but you should be wearing small.”

“I don’t like things being too tight.”

“How about your pants? You must know what size jeans you wear. I’m guessing a four…maybe a six.”

“More like six.”

“Don’t tell your grandmother, but I am too. And it looks like we’re about the same height. Are you about five foot nine?

“Five ten.” DJ stood straighter.

“Well, you never wear heels. It’s hard to tell.”

DJ thought that made no sense. Wasn’t it harder to tell how tall people were who wore heels?

“Speaking of heels, what size shoe do you wear?”

“Nines.”

“Hey, me too.”

“Great,” said DJ in a voice totally lacking in enthusiasm. She felt more pathetic than ever just now. It really was hopeless. Standing next to Eliza, all she could see were her flaws. She leaned over to stare at her nose again. She expected to see a zit appear at any moment.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” said Eliza quickly. “You get a quick shower and shampoo your hair really well, and I’ll be right back.”

“What should I use to wash my face?” asked DJ, feeling like she was about six years old now.

“Nothing for now. Just water. And shave your legs too. But hurry. We don’t have much time.”

So, still feeling utterly hopeless, DJ stripped off her sweaty clothes, threw them into the hamper, and leaped into the shower. She’d just gotten out and was towel drying her hair when Eliza popped in carrying an oversized plaid bag that appeared to be filled with all sorts of beauty products.

“Looks like you could be an Avon lady,” teased DJ.

“Sit down there,” commanded Eliza, pointing to a bench by the bathtub.

She’d changed into a pretty sky blue top and a pair of khaki shorts, complete with an attractive woven belt that matched her sandals. Perfect for a hot day on the beach—and just plain perfect.

DJ adjusted the towel that she’d wrapped around her like a sari and was barely seated on the bench before Eliza began messing with her hair.

“What are you doing?” asked DJ.

“Just putting some highlights on it. It’s a product I keep handy for those times when I can’t get to the salon. Just a little pick-me-up, until I can get professional help. I discovered it when my mom and I were touring Europe about a year ago. It works really great.”

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Don’t worry.”

“How long does this stuff take?”

“Just fifteen minutes.”

DJ’s eyes began to water. Whatever Eliza was putting on her hair smelled like a combination of rotten eggs and formaldehyde—like something from chemistry class.

“What if my hair falls out?”

Eliza laughed. “It won’t fall out.”

DJ wasn’t so sure. But she decided it might be safer to keep her mouth shut while Eliza was doing this. She didn’t want to distract her. Before long, Eliza was done putting the stuff on her hair and she covered the top of her head with a piece of plastic. “Now your face,” said Eliza, handing her a white tube of something. “This is an exfoliating cleanser. Just gently rub it into your face. But not around your eyes. Okay?”

“Is it dangerous?”

“No, silly. But avoid the eye area or you’ll get puffy.”

After that, Eliza handed her a warm, damp washcloth. “Now gently remove the cleanser with this, using small circular motions.” DJ followed her instructions and then Eliza opened another small jar of something. “This is moisturizer with sunscreen. Just put a little on, here and here and here.” She dotted it around on DJ’s face. “And now gently rub it in.”

“Hey, that feels pretty good,” said DJ as she ran her fingertips over a cheek. “Smooth.”

“Uh-huh,” said Eliza as she handed her another tube of something. “Now, this is a bronzed moisturizer which also has sunscreen, and it’s actually somewhat waterproof.”

“What do I do with that?”

“Just rub it on the tops of your arms and on your legs and your chest. It’s a way to get some color without endangering your skin.” Then Eliza helped her, showing how much to use and how to blend it to look natural. “It’ll come off if you go swimming.”

DJ considered this. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to don a swimsuit in front of Conner just yet. Besides that her only swimsuit was an old swim-team suit and she didn’t really feel like wearing that in front of anyone. “I doubt that I’ll go swimming,” she told Eliza as she finished with the bronzer.

“Yeah, me too.” Eliza pointed to her feet. “Now stick a foot-sie up on the edge of the tub.”

“Why?”

“I want to check out those feet.”

“My feet?”

“Yes!”

So DJ stuck a foot up on the edge of the tub, waiting for Eliza to tell her the next piece of bad news. Other than cutting her toenails occasionally, DJ rarely even looked at her feet.

“Well, there’s nothing that a good pedicure won’t fix. But we don’t have time for that today. Still, rub some of this foot cream in and make sure you get each toe really saturated. Then just dab on a little bit of this clear polish for some sparkle.”

Just as DJ finished her feet, Eliza noticed the time. She jumped up and said it was time to rinse off DJ’s hair. “Stick your head in the tub,” she commanded. Then she helped to rinse off whatever it was before she applied some conditioner that actually smelled pretty good. “We’ve got fifteen minutes,” said Eliza as DJ towel dried her hair for the second time. “Come over to the mirror and let’s do makeup.”

“I don’t think I’m much of a makeup girl,” said DJ reluctantly. “I tried it a couple of times, but it looked pretty clownish on me.”

“That’s because you didn’t do it right.”

So Eliza helped her and when she was done, it wasn’t too bad, although DJ thought she still looked a little silly.

“Now for wardrobe,” said Eliza.

“That might be a challenge,” said DJ as they went out of the bathroom. “My closet is pretty sparse and I—” DJ stopped in the doorway. There, on her bed, was a bunch of clothes that were not hers. “What?”

“These are just some things that I’m not that attached to. Plus, as you know, we’re short on closet space. Why don’t you give them a try?”

“But they’re yours, Eliza, I can’t—”

“Really, I have way too many clothes. I know this for a fact. You’re doing me a favor. Okay?” She shoved some things at her. “Here, try these on and dry your hair. I want to go freshen up a little too.”

For the next few minutes, DJ tried on several of the pieces that Eliza had donated. At first, it seemed a little strange wearing someone else’s clothes. But they actually fit fairly well and looked pretty good too. Although DJ couldn’t help but notice that the labels were not what she was used to, and she had a feeling they were expensive. She finally settled on a pair of pale denim shorts and a peasant-style sleeveless top. Not flashy, but comfortable and nice. She slipped on a pair of sand-colored platform sandals that looked like they were made out of twine and tied around her ankles. Not bad.

Then she went to the bathroom to dry her hair. At first she hadn’t noticed much difference after Eliza’s highlighting treatment, but once her hair was dry, she could see that it looked lighter and brighter and better. She studied her reflection with surprised interest, and she had to admit that it really was an improvement. Certainly, she wasn’t as stunningly beautiful as Taylor, and she wasn’t as picture-perfect pretty as Eliza or as exotic as Kriti, but she wasn’t half bad either. In fact, she looked almost pretty.

She just hoped she looked pretty enough to turn Conner’s head today. For some reason that meant more than anything to her just now. She hoped that it wasn’t simply because of Taylor’s interest in him. Or because DJ felt competitive and was trying to prove something. Because that seemed wrong. Still, she remembered how she’d felt spending time with Conner last night, how it almost seemed like a date, how he’d said sweet things to her, about her…how it had seemed like maybe things really were changing between them. She hoped she wasn’t wrong about that.

“Hey, DJ,” yelled Eliza. “You ready?”

DJ emerged, stood in the center of the room with hands extended as if to show Eliza the results. Eliza smiled and gave a nod of approval. “Very nice.”

“Thank you,” said DJ, reaching for her old Fossil bag.

“Not that one,” said Eliza quickly. She dug through the things splayed out on the bed until she found a sand-colored canvas bag trimmed in leather. In some ways, it didn’t look that much different than DJ’s Fossil bag, but she knew enough to know that it probably was.

“Hermès,” said Eliza as she looped it over DJ’s shoulder. “My mom picked it up in France and then decided she didn’t like it. It’s not really me, either, but I like it on you. You’re more the natural type.”

“The natural type?” DJ smiled. “I like that.”

“You switch your stuff from your bag,” said Eliza. “I need to get something.”

Then, as DJ emerged from her room, she heard Taylor yelling up the stairway, “Come on you guys. Some of us are getting impatient.”

“Coming,” yelled DJ.

Just then Eliza came out holding up a sunglasses case. “Here,” she said as she opened it up and slid a pair of shades onto DJ’s nose. She stepped back to look. “Just what you need to top it off.”

DJ attempted to peer at her image in the hallway mirror, but it was too dark to see much more than shadows.

“Trust me,” said Eliza. “They’re perfect.”

DJ removed the shades, returned them to the case, and hugged Eliza. “Thank you,” she said happily. “For everything.”

Eliza chuckled. “I really should thank you, DJ.”

“Why?”

“Well, if I tell you, you’ll know just how shallow I actually am.”

“Huh?”

“The truth is it’s more fun to hang with a well-dressed girl than a street bum.”

“Oh.” Then DJ laughed. “Yeah, I guess I can understand that.”

Harry was waiting with a picnic basket in the foyer downstairs. “Ready to go, ladies?”

“We need to get the ice chest too,” said DJ.

“The cook already brought it out. I gave it to Conner to put in the Jeep.” Harry grinned at Eliza. “I didn’t think it would fit in your Porsche.”

“Probably not,” said Eliza.

“The others are outside,” said Harry.

“Let’s go,” said Eliza.

As they went out, DJ was getting ready for what she hoped would be Conner’s reaction. If nothing else, he would at least do a double take. And then, as they were driving to the beach, he would probably mention something about her “new look.” She wanted to be ready with a natural-sounding reaction. Some off-hand comment like, “I just took a shower and washed my hair. No biggie.” Because no way did she want him to know this was her last-ditch desperate effort to keep his attention on her instead of Taylor.