Mixed Bags (13 page)

DJ wanted to tell Taylor that she wished she would go to hell. But she had a feeling that would offend Rhiannon. And right now DJ had more respect for Rhiannon than anyone else in the room. Okay, she was weird. And DJ didn’t really get it. But she had to admire the girl’s bravery.

BY SaTurDaY morninG
, the Carter House felt like a pot that had been left on the stove too long. DJ expected it to boil over at any moment. For that reason, she was trying to lie low. Casey, who had missed breakfast, seemed even grouchier than last night. And she wasn’t budging from their bedroom, where she was sitting on the window seat, playing a computer game that involved guns and screaming and made DJ feel as if she wanted to throw the laptop out the window. DJ had sought a haven in Eliza and Kriti’s room, which seemed about the safest place, but after an hour or so, she was worried she might wear out her welcome. So it was that she was downstairs when her grandmother found her.

“Desiree,” said Grandmother with enthusiasm. “I was just looking for you.”

“Why?” she asked with suspicion.

“You are a lucky girl today.”

“How’s that?”

“I just spoke to Val, and he had a cancellation for his eleven o’clock appointment. I told him to save it for you.” She reached out and fingered a strand of DJ’s hair. “You really have good hair, Desiree. I think Val will have no problems.”

“But I—”

“No, buts, dear. I gave Val instructions; all you need to do is show up and leave it to him. And it’s nearly eleven now, so you better run along.”

“What if it doesn’t turn—?”

“Really, dear, no worries. Val has done this literally thousands of times. He’s a pro. It’s all set up. He’ll simply put it on my bill. All you need to do is show up, and he’ll take care of you.”

DJ wasn’t so sure. She hadn’t had much experience with hair salons. In the past, she’d always just worn her hair long, and when it needed trimming, her mother had done it. Just having Eliza putting that stuff on it yesterday had been unsettling, but the idea of a stranger doing something to her hair, a man even, was pretty scary. “So you can promise me that my hair won’t fall out, and that I’ll like it?” asked DJ.

Her grandmother smiled in a way that wasn’t quite convincing. “Of course, you’ll like it, Desiree.”

“You’ll like what?” asked Eliza as she came down the stairs.

“Oh, Eliza,” said Grandmother happily. “You’re just the one I need. Please, encourage my granddaughter that getting her hair highlighted is nothing whatsoever to be afraid of.”

So Eliza gave DJ just about the same little speech she’d given her yesterday. “And if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll come along with you. I’d like to see what’s in town anyway.”

“That’s perfect,” said Grandmother. “In fact, I have a wonderful idea, Eliza. Why don’t you help Desiree pick out some new clothes for school? I’ve been trying to get her to do some shopping with me all summer, but it’s been like pulling teeth. I’ll bet she wouldn’t mind going with you.”

“That’s a great idea,” said Eliza. “But where does one shop in this town?”

So Grandmother gave her directions to the closest mall. “But, be forewarned, Eliza, this is a small town. Do not expect too much.”

Then Grandmother gave DJ some cash as well as her Macy’s credit card. “Not that I’m a Macy’s fan,” she said to Eliza in a confidential tone. “But sometimes I get rather desperate, and it’s the best I can do without going to the city.”

“I understand,” said Eliza. “My mother has been known to do the very same thing.”

Grandmother nodded in appreciation. “Thank you for helping Desiree, Eliza. I am most grateful.”

DJ was actually relieved to get away from the house. “Whew,” she said as Eliza drove them the short distance to town. “I’m glad to get out of there.”

“Me too,” admitted Eliza. “I heard Taylor yelling at Rhiannon in their room.”

“Poor Rhiannon.”

“That’s for sure. Rhiannon may think she’s a strong Christian, but I have a feeling that Taylor is going to be putting her to the test.”

The way Eliza used the term
strong Christian
made DJ wonder if she knew more about this than she’d let on. “What did you think about what Rhiannon said last night?” asked DJ as Eliza parked in front of the Chic Boutique.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean about going to church and being a Christian.”

“Well, I grew up in the Bible belt,” said Eliza as they got out of the car.

“What’s a Bible belt?” DJ imagined someone with a black book belted around their midsection.

“I mean there’s a church on every corner down south. And although my parents didn’t go to church every Sunday, not like my grandparents did, they did take us for holidays and baptisms and things like that. So I’m kind of familiar with the whole church thing.”

“Does that mean you’re a Christian too?” asked DJ.

“Of course.”

“Oh.” Now this didn’t exactly compute. Or maybe there were different sorts of Christians. Or maybe things to do with religion and church were simply meant to be confusing. DJ’s mother had been friends with a Christian woman named Diane before she died. They’d had some long conversations that DJ had overheard bits and pieces of, but it had made no sense to her then. And it still didn’t now. Perhaps it was better not to think about these things at all. DJ followed Eliza into the salon where a petite brunette was sitting at the reception desk. Eliza told her of the appointment, and DJ looked around the shop where everything seemed to be done in shades of purples, plums, and pinks. Not exactly DJ’s favorite colors.

“Oh, there you are,” said a heavyset man with black curly hair and a goatee. He reached for both of Eliza’s hands and looked into her face. “You must be Katherine’s granddaughter Desiree. You are a beauty just like your grandmother. And I am Val.”

“Actually, I’m Eliza Wilton,” she told him. “But thank you!” Then she turned to where DJ was still lurking in the shadows behind her. “
This
is Mrs. Carter’s granddaughter.”

“Oh, I am so sorry,” said Val. Then he smiled at DJ. “But you are beautiful too, Desiree. Two beautiful girls to grace my shop.”

“Thank you,” said DJ with embarrassment. “But you can call me DJ. I don’t really go by Desiree.”

He frowned. “Of course you must go by Desiree. Don’t you know what it means?”

DJ nodded. “Yes. I know.”

He winked at her. “Desired one. Now, what is so wrong with that?”

She shrugged. “It just doesn’t seem to fit.”

“Ah, but you will grow into it.” He led her back into the shop now. “I think you are already growing into it.”

DJ tossed Eliza a glance that was meant to convey, “Do not leave me with this lunatic,” and Eliza asked if it was okay to watch.

“Certainly,” said Val. “The more the merrier.”

“And if I like what you do for DJ, I’ll make an appointment for myself. I think I’ll be ready for some touchups in about three weeks.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Val put a plum-colored haircutting shawl around DJ’s shoulders then began feeling the texture of her hair. “Ah, very nice…and Katherine told me exactly what to do. It will be perfect.”

Eliza picked up a
Vogue
and sat in the chair next to DJ. DJ attempted to relax as Val began his work.
Really,
she assured herself,
how bad could this be?
She’d liked what Eliza had done yesterday. This would simply be a more permanent version of that.

But when he was done and turned her around to see in the mirror, she was shocked. “What did you do?” she asked, as she felt her hair, unsure that it really belonged to her.

“Is something wrong?” asked Val, looking wounded.

“It’s so—so blonde!” she declared.

He seemed to study her. “The highlighting took a little better than I expected. But isn’t it beautiful!”

Eliza stood behind her now, nodding eagerly. “It’s gorgeous, DJ.”

“But it’s so blonde!”

“You look fantastic,” said Eliza. “Really, you do.”

Now DJ looked at Eliza’s reflection, just behind her. And she realized that their hair looked almost exactly alike. She swallowed against the lump in her throat, feeling tears burning behind her eyes. She did not want to be a baby. She would not cry in front of Val and Eliza. “It looks like your hair,” she said to Eliza.

Eliza just seemed to notice this. “Well, it’s similar. But I think your hair actually has more color and contrast to it.” She lifted a strand of DJ’s hair as if to prove this. “See, you can still see the brown shades underneath.”

The receptionist came over now. “Oh, it’s beautiful, Val,” she gushed. “Maybe we should take a photo for our collection.”

“Good thinking,” said Val.

“Wait,” said Eliza. “First let’s touch up her makeup.” She grabbed her bag. “Is that okay, DJ?”

DJ just shrugged. The sooner this all ended, the happier she’d be. So she sat there as Eliza applied some lip color and blush and things. Eventually the receptionist snapped a Polaroid, and when DJ saw it, she thought the girl looked like a stranger…or perhaps a clone of Eliza.

“Very pretty,” said the receptionist as she pinned the photo up with some others. “A great addition to our wall of fame.”

DJ wanted to say, “Don’t you mean wall of shame?” but she controlled herself and thanked them both instead.

“Are you really unhappy with it?” asked Eliza once they were outside.

“I’m in shock,” admitted DJ. “I just didn’t expect it to be so blonde.”

“I think you’ll get used to it,” said Eliza as they got into the car. “Let the wind blow through your hair, tangle it a little so that the darker color shows up, and maybe you’ll be happier then.”

“Maybe…” Still DJ was not convinced.

“And we’ll get some lunch,” said Eliza. “My mother says you should never make a judgment about your hair on an empty stomach.”

“Right.”

Just then the car next to them honked, and they both turned to see a car full of guys waiting at the stoplight next to them. The guys were smiling and waving and obviously flirting.

“See,” said Eliza as she looked back toward the traffic light. “Already you’re getting approval.”

DJ sighed. “I just wanted to look like me.”

“You do,” said Eliza. “Just better.”

After lunch, where Eliza grazed lightly on a bowl of vegetable soup and green salad but DJ made up for it by putting away a cheeseburger and fries, they went shopping. And Eliza could shop! For a girl who was subsiding on mostly vegetables, Eliza seemed to be fairly energetic. They hit several small shops that Eliza thought looked promising, and Eliza tirelessly perused through rack after rack, loading DJ down with things that she would then have to try on. In some ways, it seemed that Eliza was wearing DJ down. And before long, DJ wasn’t even sure what she did or didn’t like. Instead, she surrendered herself to Eliza’s taste and her grandmother’s finances. She just wanted to get this over with and go where she promised herself she would take a nice long nap.

By the time they got to Macy’s, which Eliza seemed to feel might be their best bet, DJ already had numerous bags. And all the cash her grandmother had given her was spent. In Macy’s, Eliza managed to find even more items that she was absolutely convinced “DJ could not live without.” This added up to more times in the dressing rooms, more standing in front of the dreadful three-way mirrors and bad lighting, while Eliza determined whether a certain shirt, blouse, skirt, or pair of pants was acceptable or not.

Ironically, the more times DJ saw herself in these unforgiving mirrors, the more she got used to her new hair. Sure, it didn’t look like her. Not the old her. But it wasn’t unattractive either. And it hadn’t escaped her notice that people, including salesclerks, waitresses, and even strangers, were treating her differently. At first she thought it was only because she was with pretty Eliza, but then she realized that wasn’t the only factor.

Still, as Eliza drove them home with the car piled high with bags, mostly belonging to DJ, it bothered her that she had caved—both to Eliza and her grandmother. And it stunned her to realize that only two days ago she had still been DJ the tomboy, wearing a ball cap, unflattering jeans, grubby flip-flops, and T-shirts. And yet she’d been perfectly happy in that old uniform. Hadn’t she?

“I’m exhausted,” said DJ as Eliza parked her car by the house. “I’m taking a nap before we go out tonight.”

“Harry said they’ll be by around six-thirty,” said Eliza as she helped DJ carry the packages inside. “They’re taking us to dinner first, then the movie.”

DJ turned and looked at Eliza as they paused on the porch to open the door. “What if Conner doesn’t like my hair?”

Eliza frowned. “Why wouldn’t he?”

“He told me he liked me the way I was. He said he didn’t like high-maintenance girls.”

Eliza just laughed. “I would hardly describe you as high maintenance, DJ. And you look beautiful. What guy in his right mind wouldn’t appreciate that?”

DJ just shrugged as they went inside. “I don’t know…”

“Don’t worry so much,” said Eliza as they went up the stairs. “You’ll give yourself frown lines.”

Then, as DJ stood in front of her bedroom door, she felt a wave of apprehension. She did not want to take all these new clothes into her bedroom and face Casey now. She could just imagine the grief that Casey was going to give her.

“What’s wrong?” asked Eliza as DJ stood frozen in front of her closed door.

“I—uh—”

“Here, let me help,” offered Eliza, reaching past her to open the door. Then Eliza walked in and dumped the bags onto DJ’s bed.

“What is going on?” demanded Casey, still sitting exactly where she’d been when DJ had left that morning. Had she been there all day? Playing that horrible computer game?

“Nothing,” said Eliza as she heaped even more bags onto her bed.

“What is all that?”

“See y’all later,” called Eliza pleasantly as she closed the door.

“And what happened to your hair?” Casey set her laptop aside and came over to stare at DJ.

“I got it highlighted,” said DJ as she went over to see herself in the mirror. Oddly enough, she was sort of starting to like it now. Eliza had been right, having it tousled by the wind seemed to help. The darker hair showed up more now and it was actually sort of interesting, although different.

“You look just like Eliza,” said Casey, as if that were a horrible thing. “You guys are like a couple of Barbie dolls. Maybe we should call you Barbie One and Barbie Two. Or, better yet, Eliza can be Kentucky Barbie and you can be California Barbie. Or maybe she can be Barbie Belle and you can—”