my less-than-modest skirt. It was definitely the easy way out, but Lexi never specified how I had to get rid of him, just that it had to be done so that his best friend could ask her to prom.
I checked the number on the fact sheet so that I could confirm tomorrow’s breakup with Lexi. There’s nothing worse than trying to break up with a boy and having their girlfriend show up halfway through. I dialed the number on my now pink cell phone.
“This is Lex,” said a chipper voice. I wondered why on earth she’d need to shorten Lexi. After all, wasn’t Lexi the shortened version of Alexis or something? Perhaps the four letters were still too strenuous for her, and she needed the three letters to keep it simple.
“Hey Lexi, it’s Amelia,” I said professionally. “I was just calling to confirm that you won’t be in school tomorrow so that I can get rid of Blane for you.”
“What? No you can’t do it tomorrow! He’s throwing a party this weekend and I want to be able to say good-bye properly.”
This news shocked me slightly, and I didn’t even want to think about what her last statement entailed, so I simply said, “Really? Well, if you need it done by Tuesday I should start working on it.”
“I don’t care. I thought you did this stuff in one day anyway? Why can’t you just do it Monday?” I sighed deeply and tried to control my temper. Some people really thought I was a miracle worker—they never took into account illness, or the fact that not all breakups take one neat little forty-minute lunch break.
“If you want me to start on Monday then I’m going to have to ask you to move the deadline to Wednesday as a precaution.” There was some audible grumbling on the other line, which annoyed me, but she finally gave in.
“Fine. Do whatever you need to do.” Then the line went dead. She had hung up on me. My annoyance wasn’t at the fact that she was being ungrateful and unrealistic, but rather the fact that she didn’t seem to think that I could possibly lure her boyfriend away from a catch as great as her. I rolled my eyes at the cheerleader’s unjustified confidence and tossed my phone into the big white leather purse I’d been planning to use for school tomorrow.
It then instantly struck me that I didn’t have a job tomorrow. David had broken up with Claire, so I didn’t have to worry about him, and I couldn’t start work on Blane until Monday. I could wear whatever I wanted tomorrow. But what on earth did I want to wear? I rarely dressed for myself. The only time I wasn’t working was usually weekends and then I’d just stay in sweats and paint for two days straight. With this exciting new prospect of dressing myself in mind, I opened up my closet and looked through the many different styles.
I finally settled for nondescript blue jeans, a gray fitted T-shirt, some black and white tennis shoes, and a long, thin, white muslin scarf. I completed this outfit with a knitted white beret to stuff my newly dyed blonde hair into. Tomorrow I was definitely going for invisible, and maybe that way David wouldn’t find me and he’d forget about our “date.”
The next day at school I was met with a very unwelcome sight at my locker, which looked like it was turning into a meeting spot for my clients. Claire stood, arms crossed over her chest, eyes burning a hole through my head. I approached cautiously, not quite sure what I’d done to merit this less-than-congenial greeting.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked in a furious whisper. I threw her an honestly puzzled look while I tried to make sure no one was listening to us.
“What are you talking about?”
“David!” she said simply. Her statement was so sudden that I thought perhaps he was standing behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see the normal procession of students passing through the hallway.
“Not behind you, you idiot. What did you do? I paid you fifty dollars to break up with him for me!”
“You guys
I checked the number on the fact sheet so that I could confirm tomorrow’s breakup with Lexi. There’s nothing worse than trying to break up with a boy and having their girlfriend show up halfway through. I dialed the number on my now pink cell phone.
“This is Lex,” said a chipper voice. I wondered why on earth she’d need to shorten Lexi. After all, wasn’t Lexi the shortened version of Alexis or something? Perhaps the four letters were still too strenuous for her, and she needed the three letters to keep it simple.
“Hey Lexi, it’s Amelia,” I said professionally. “I was just calling to confirm that you won’t be in school tomorrow so that I can get rid of Blane for you.”
“What? No you can’t do it tomorrow! He’s throwing a party this weekend and I want to be able to say good-bye properly.”
This news shocked me slightly, and I didn’t even want to think about what her last statement entailed, so I simply said, “Really? Well, if you need it done by Tuesday I should start working on it.”
“I don’t care. I thought you did this stuff in one day anyway? Why can’t you just do it Monday?” I sighed deeply and tried to control my temper. Some people really thought I was a miracle worker—they never took into account illness, or the fact that not all breakups take one neat little forty-minute lunch break.
“If you want me to start on Monday then I’m going to have to ask you to move the deadline to Wednesday as a precaution.” There was some audible grumbling on the other line, which annoyed me, but she finally gave in.
“Fine. Do whatever you need to do.” Then the line went dead. She had hung up on me. My annoyance wasn’t at the fact that she was being ungrateful and unrealistic, but rather the fact that she didn’t seem to think that I could possibly lure her boyfriend away from a catch as great as her. I rolled my eyes at the cheerleader’s unjustified confidence and tossed my phone into the big white leather purse I’d been planning to use for school tomorrow.
It then instantly struck me that I didn’t have a job tomorrow. David had broken up with Claire, so I didn’t have to worry about him, and I couldn’t start work on Blane until Monday. I could wear whatever I wanted tomorrow. But what on earth did I want to wear? I rarely dressed for myself. The only time I wasn’t working was usually weekends and then I’d just stay in sweats and paint for two days straight. With this exciting new prospect of dressing myself in mind, I opened up my closet and looked through the many different styles.
I finally settled for nondescript blue jeans, a gray fitted T-shirt, some black and white tennis shoes, and a long, thin, white muslin scarf. I completed this outfit with a knitted white beret to stuff my newly dyed blonde hair into. Tomorrow I was definitely going for invisible, and maybe that way David wouldn’t find me and he’d forget about our “date.”
The next day at school I was met with a very unwelcome sight at my locker, which looked like it was turning into a meeting spot for my clients. Claire stood, arms crossed over her chest, eyes burning a hole through my head. I approached cautiously, not quite sure what I’d done to merit this less-than-congenial greeting.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked in a furious whisper. I threw her an honestly puzzled look while I tried to make sure no one was listening to us.
“What are you talking about?”
“David!” she said simply. Her statement was so sudden that I thought perhaps he was standing behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see the normal procession of students passing through the hallway.
“Not behind you, you idiot. What did you do? I paid you fifty dollars to break up with him for me!”
“You guys
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