Page 97 of Rock Bottom Girl
Isucked wind through three whole miles and felt like an Olympic champion when my parents’ house came back into view. Autumn descended with its traditional unpredictability. Pennsylvania entertained a very long winter and summer punctuated with a day or two that could be considered a life-affirming spring and cozy, crisp fall. Some of the leaves were starting to change color on the maples, but other trees had already surrendered, dumping their still green foliage to the ground.
Pumpkin spice and baggy sweaters were everywhere even though the temperatures were volleying between the 40s and the 70s.
I hosed off quickly in the shower, grabbed the closest clean clothes, and then stopped and glanced in the mirror.
Effort.
Okay, fine. I could make some. I didn’t have to dress like I was always ready for a nap or a workout.
I dug out a pair of jeans and did a happy little shimmy when I realized they were loose around the waist. Unless I was mistaken, this was the pair I’d had to lay down on the bed and zip myself into last winter.
And here I was standing up and not choking like a stuffed sausage. Huh. Imagine that.
Rifling through the clothes I’d shoved carelessly into the closet when I’d unceremoniously crash-landed back here, I found a cute cashmere blend sweater with three-quarter sleeves. I’d treated myself to it when I’d gotten my last job. The job that was going to be my big break into adulthood and importance. I winced at my naïveté and dragged the sweater over my head.
Dang. Not bad. Was it my imagination, or was my back fat a little less noticeable now?
Fully in the spirit now, I found a pair of ankle boots that made me think of tough chicks that rode motorcycles. I nodded at my reflection.Not bad at all.Maybe my team was on to something.
Speaking of, I had a makeover to get to. God, I hoped they wouldn’t talk me into dying my hair pink or something.
* * *
The entire varsityteam greeted me at the door of the cosmetics store, and I had a moment of unadulterated panic. What if this was some kind of cruel joke? What if they were going to shave my eyebrows off and make me up to look like a new drag queen. New drag queens didn’t have the deft touch that experienced ones did.
“You ready for a new you, Coach?” Natalee asked gleefully.
“Uh, maybe?”
Morgan E. gave me the once over. “Solid effort on the clothes,” she said. It sounded like a compliment.
“Thanks.”
I was surprised and a little relieved to see Libby there. I considered hers to be a friendly face. I felt I could trust her. If she were here, that probably meant the team wasn’t about to exact some complex, humiliating revenge.
“How’d you get here?” I asked her as we trooped inside.
She stuffed her hands into her sweatshirt pockets. “Angela picked me up.”
My face must have given me away.
“Don’t start getting all dewy-eyed. We’re on the same team. She lives a couple blocks away. We’re not BFFs and braiding each other’s hair, so relax.”
“I’d like to point out that we’re not on school property, and you can’t give us detention for swearing or not listening to you,” Ruby announced, leading the way toward the back of the store.
“Understood.” Did that mean I could swear, too? I definitely did not have the vocabulary of someone shaping America’s future. “I’d also like to point out that please remember I’m low maintenance.”
“Low maintenance doesn’t have to mean absolutely zero fucks given,” Morgan E. shot back.
* * *
There wereaisles and aisles of makeup, skin care products, hair tools. Artful displays of charcoal face masks and fake lashes caught my eye.
I was officially in over my head. At their mercy.
Ruby stopped at the entrance to the in-house salon and faced me. “Do you trust us?” she asked.
I looked around the circle. No one looked like they were choking on laughter or trying to cover up nefarious intent.
