Ann Martin - Baby-Sitters Club 060

Carolyn was already bunching up a big wad of toilet paper.

"Where do you keep all the stuff you don't want?" Jessi asked.

"The attic," Carolyn answered. "But it's scary up there." "I'm not scared!" Marilyn said. "Let's go." Carolyn couldn't stay downstairs after that. The three of them barged into the attic.

It was a little creepy, but right in the middle of it was a huge box filled with old baby toys. And on the top was a toy telephone on wheels.

"There's our unplugged telephone!" Jessi said.

"Look," Carolyn exclaimed, pulling out a radio alarm clock with fake wood paneling, "Remember this? Mom called it a piece of junk and Dad said to save it." The cover of the clock face was missing, and the hands were dangling. Carolyn pulled them off. "They won't even notice," she said.

"Our old shower curtain!" Marilyn exclaimed from under one of the attic eaves. She held up a metal rod with crinkly plastic curtains.

Jessi checked the list. "Great, that's the last thing! Let's go!" "Back to the basement!" Carolyn said.

They clattered down two flights of stairs, grabbing all their supplies. When they reached the machine, Carolyn lined up everything carefully on the floor. Then she went to work.

"Let's see," she said, wrapping the toilet paper around her magnifying glass. "The flux capacitator must have a cushion from warp shock . . . the curtain rod will conduct the electricity . . . now, if we set the hands to a specific time . . ." It didn't take Marilyn long to grow bored. "I'm going to go read," she said, trudging back upstairs.

Jessi stayed in the basement. Carolyn tinkered around, attaching things to the crates, adjusting the wires. All the time she kept mumbling to herself, as if Jessi weren't even there.

A weird thought crossed Jessi's mind: What if Carolyn really believed this stuff?

But she just smiled and threw that thought away. Carolyn was old enough to know fantasy from reality.

"Perfect!" Carolyn said. She turned to Jessi, her face aglow. "We'll be ready for our first trip by next week!" Then again, maybe not.

Chapter 5.

Santa rose slowly upward, then disappeared. He was still checking his list. Beside him, a girl with tennis shorts happily sniffed a bunch of daisies. She didn't take any notice of him.

It was the Changing of the Window Displays at Washington Mall. (Santa and the girl were mannequins.) While Jessi was sitting for the Arnold twins, Dad and I were looking at the window of Steven E, one of the mall's fanciest clothing boutiques. After yanking Santa out of the way, the designers began setting up a spring garden scene around the girl. One of them saw us and started dancing with another mannequin.

Dad and I laughed. "The clothes here are sooo nice," I said. "But really expensive." "Well, let's get your hair cut first," Dad said. "Let's see how much that costs. Then maybe we can go in." I didn't expect him to say that. In fact, I felt a little guilty. Maybe Dad thought I had been hinting for him to take me into that store.

1 hadn't been, but I have to admit I was thrilled he had offered.

We rode the mall elevator to the floor where the salon was. When we went in, I asked for Joyce (Stacey's favorite hairstylist). I was in luck. She was there, just finishing up a customer.

Unfortunately, that customer was a very old lady with bluish-white hair, all done up in a kind of beehive. I was having second thoughts about Joyce.

As we sat in the waiting area, I could hear Dad making sniffing .noises. "What is that smell?" he said.

"Someone's getting a perm," I replied.

"Oh," he said with a slightly sour expression.

I reached into my bag and took out the photo of the haircut I wanted. Dad rummaged through a pile of fashion magazines, before he found a three-month-old issue of Rolling Stone. "I don't suppose I'd find The Wall Street Journal here," he muttered.

In a few minutes, a young woman motioned me over to the sinks in the corner of the salon. The warmth of the water calmed me down. As I was being towel-dried, I noticed Joyce's customer was standing up and admiring her beehive. Joyce smiled at me and said, "Your turn." This was It. There was no turning back now.

I stood up and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair cascaded to my shoulders. Suddenly it seemed so beautiful. I thought of all the events of my life, all the ups and downs I had gone through with this hair. It was like an old friend. In a few minutes, most of it was going to be lying in wet clumps on the floor.

Part of me wanted to run away, but I didn't give in. This was the New Mary Anne. Willing to try new things, to be the best possible person she could be.

"Hi," I said bravely.

"What can I do for you?" Joyce asked.

I explained that I was a friend of Stacey's. Then I showed her the photo. "Can you do this style?" Joyce looked at it, then stared at me through squinty eyes. Finally she nodded confidently. "Sure. This will look fabulous on you." "Uh-huh," I said, settling into the chair. I tried to smile. I swallowed. I closed my eyes.

"Now, honey, this isn't the dentist's office," Joyce said.

My eyes opened and I actually smiled.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Joyce asked.

"Yes!" I said quickly.

Joyce went to work. She tried to make conversation while she snipped away. I kept saying "Uh-huh" and laughing weakly at her jokes. I must have sounded like a real dope, but I couldn't keep my eyes off the mirror. Each hunk of falling hair was like a little death.

(I can't help it - that's how it felt!) But you know what? When Joyce clipped off the last long strands, I changed. I saw what the hairstyle was going to look like. I said hello to my jaw again (not aloud).

When Joyce finished, I almost jumped out of my seat. I looked . . . well, let's put it this way. I did not look like the model, but I did look like a new person. I felt like one, too. I could see my grin growing and growing in the mirror. I didn't know what to say, so I sort of squealed.

"She's excited," Joyce said to my dad.

"Yes," Dad replied. He wasn't exactly bursting with praise, but he was smiling.

I could barely feel my feet touch the ground, I was so happy. I must have stared in that mirror for ages. I wanted to see every possible angle. Eventually Dad paid the cashier and gently led me away.

"Thanks!" I said to Joyce.

"My pleasure," Joyce replied. "Say hi to Stacey for me." What a feeling came over me as I walked out of the salon. Who ever knew there were breezes in a mall? Well, there were, and I felt every one of them on my neck.

"Oh, thank you, Dad!" I exclaimed. "Do you like it?" "The important thing is, do you like it?" he replied.

My stomach went into knots. He hadn't said yes. "I love it ... but ..." I felt my lower lip start to tremble. "You don't like it, do you?" Dad gave me a concerned look. "No, I think it's wonderful, sweetheart. It makes you look like a beautiful young woman. It's just . . ." He shrugged and tried to smile. "Well, you're growing up, Mary Anne. That's never easy for a parent to see, especially an old grump like me." So that's what it was. The look in Dad's eyes was sad and proud and happy, all at the same time. Oh boy. Now I felt like crying for a different reason.

Fortunately, a chirpy voice interrupted our silence. "Free makeover for our grand opening?" I turned to see a stunning woman in a clingy dress. She smelled of perfume and was wearing lots of makeup. She was easily six feet tall. The store behind her had been under construction the last time I was here. Now its display window was stuffed with perfumes and cosmetics. The words About Face arched across the window in purple neon lights.

"It's free!" she said again. "This week only. No purchase necessary. You'll be glad you tried it." It was exactly what I needed - an elegant makeup job to go with an elegant haircut. Of course, I was wearing no makeup at all. "Dad?" I asked.