Page 80 of An Overdue Match
Hayley tilts her chin as she considers me. “Are you thinking wig or no wig?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet, I guess.”
“Okay, let me ask you another question. Are you serious about my cousin?”
My face heats, a neon sign declaring just how much I feel for Tai.
“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” Hayley says knowingly, her grin as wide as the Mississippi is long.
I clear my throat. “It might be a little like that, yes,” I say as primly as possible.
Hayley laughs. “If that’s the case, you’ll probably be seeing Aunt Missy and Uncle Walter quite a bit. A conversation about your hair is more a matter of when and not if, right? You control the timeline, Evangeline. No one else.”
There’s a whole town who knows me as a brunette with shoulder-length beach waves and curtain bangs. Once I start leaving my house without my wig on, I’ll have to have countless conversations explaining the change. It might be nice, for once, to start an introduction without the need of an explanation down the road hanging out in the background.
“What if they don’t like me?”
Hayley rolls her eyes. “Your self-worth is not tied to your hair follicles’ ability to function. And, news flash, everyone obsesses at least a little about their significant other’s friends and family liking them, so I hate to break it to you, but you’re nothing special there.” She pauses. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. Except, perhaps, Aunt Missy sending you a bunch of internet articles on alopecia that you won’t want to read. But that’s her way of loving people, so remind yourself of that factwhen the twenty-seventh link comes in on some new theory about how fifteen minutes of meditation a day can make your hair grow back.”
She studies me a moment, then taps the edge of the table in a decisive move. “What you need is a little boost of confidence, and I have the perfect thing that will give you just that.”
35
“Stick-on craft gems?” I eye the sheet of stickers warily.
“What girl doesn’t need a little bling in her life?” Hayley shimmies her shoulders in a way that makes me think she’s been watching too many Lady Gaga music videos.
I turn to Martha and raise my brows at her in a silent plea for help. Surely she’ll be the sound of reason.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Martha pulls out two more sheets of sparkly jewels in different colors. “I agree with Hayley on this one.”
I groan but let Hayley push me down into one of the extra kid-sized chairs we have in the storage area, plastic bins holding puppets and craft supplies lining the wall opposite me. There’s barely room enough for the three of us in here, and there’s a little voice in the back of my head reminding me that we’re librariansat workand we should be, you know, working. Thankfully our supervisor, who mostly works remotely from another branch, isn’t scheduled to come in today and won’t catch us shirking our duties.
But as Hayley peels off a turquoise gem and I remove my wig, I can’t make myself care about the responsibilities on the other side of the open door, just glad that for now the library is deserted and if someone stops by, then Hayley hasvolunteered to go out and help them. I should be too old and mature for a makeover montage à la every teen movie, but, surprisingly, I find I’m not.
“This is the day Evangeline gets her groove back.” Hayley snaps her fingers four times in aZpattern, her head bobbing back and forth with each snap.
Martha and I stare at her, then bust out laughing.
“Please never do that again,” Martha begs between chuckles.
Hayley sniffs in exaggeration, pretending to be offended. “I can pull it off.”
I’m catching my breath while I shake my head at her. “I love you, sweetie, but no, you cannot.”
“Hmph.”
Martha’s gaze snags on mine, and we snicker some more.
There isn’t a mirror so I have no idea what my two friends are turning me into. Now that the laughter has died down, they have concentrated looks on their faces, peeling off stickers and placing them on my head. I’m a little antsy and nervous about the outcome of this. I know Hayley wants to boost my confidence, but I’m afraid I’m going to look more like a circus performer than anything.
“What were these stickers originally supposed to be used for?” I ask Martha to distract myself.
“ARainbow Fishcraft.” Her focus never leaves the spot behind my ear that she’s working on.
“The book about the fish with the glittering scales who shares his sparkle with the other fish?”
“That’s the one.”
