The Miraculous Makeover of Lizard Flanagan (7 page)

If you're having your period, you don't have to shower.

Why was that?

I knew what menstruation was. We'd had a film about it in fourth grade.

The film went into a lot of technical stuff about the ovaries, eggs, and uterus and explained why menstruation happens. But it didn't answer a lot of important questions, like: When would I get my period for the first time? Where would it happen? At school? When I'm sleeping? When I'm playing ball with the guys?

Guys are so lucky,
I thought.
They never have to deal with anything like this.
It was so unfair.

I put my hands behind my head and thought about the commercials I'd seen on TV. Somehow I couldn't see myself walking on the beach with my mother discussing cramping and bloating.

The last time we'd talked about it, I was sort of embarrassed, and I could tell she was, too. She asked me if I had questions, and when I said I didn't, she seemed relieved.

But I did have questions. Lots of them.

I got up and walked out of my room, down the hallway, and into the bathroom. I closed the door behind me.

A large closet stands just inside the door. I opened it and looked around. Maybe I'd find whatever Mom uses. Maybe there would be directions on the box.

I pushed aside some junk—a jar of Vaseline, a collection of hairbrushes, bottles of aspirin and cough syrup. Behind that, at the back of the closet, sat a cup that Sam had won at the Washington Elementary fair. Inside the cup was a razor; next to the cup was a can of shaving foam.

“Why would Sam—” Then it hit me.
Sam's shaving?

Sam, with the baby-soft skin, thinks he needs to shave? What a ridiculous thought!

I kept looking for what I'd come here to find. On the second shelf, I found something that looked promising. It was a blue box with little white flowers on it. Inside were long, thin, paper-wrapped things.

I unwrapped one of them and stared at it. “What the heck is this?” I said.

“What?”

I jumped. The voice was coming from the hall.

I crammed everything back into the closet and opened the door. Sam stood there in the hall.

“What are you doing?” he said. “Who are you talking to?”

“No one,” I said. I could feel my face getting hot and prickly.

“You looking for something?”

“None of your business!” Then I remembered why he wanted to know. “If you're worried about your
shaving
equipment, I left it where I found it. I'm sure you'll want to shave off that duckling fuzz on your face!”

“You got into my stuff!” he yelled. “You leave my stuff alone!”

“You can have your stupid shaving stuff,” I said. “I'm sure you want to look nice for Ginger the Airhead!”

I stalked into my room and slammed the door. I leaned against it till my heart calmed down.

Sam, shaving? I couldn't believe how stupid he was sometimes.

And what was that thing I'd found in the blue box?

I'm going to have to ask Mary Ann, I thought. She has an older sister, so she must know all about this stuff.

Actually, I really didn't want to know all about it. But it was a lot scarier not knowing.

7

I had my questions for Mary Ann all ready the next morning. I'd written them out the night before and memorized them. Then I tore the paper into a thousand pieces and threw the pieces into the wastebasket.

As I rode my bike, I mentally went over my questions for the millionth time:

I thought I'd act very casual and sort of ease into the subject by talking about my P.E. class.

Mary Ann had called me last night to ask if we could ride by ourselves today without the guys. She didn't say why, but I was glad. There was no way I could find out what I needed to know with them around.

Mary Ann had told me she'd meet me at the bridge. I slowed down a little and looked around for her, but I couldn't see her. Another girl was standing there next to her bike. She was probably waiting for someone.

The girl on the bridge waved. I squinted.

It was Mary Ann!

“You really did it!” I called out. I sped up to the bridge and then stopped right in front of her. “You got scalped!”

Her face fell, and she touched her short hair. “Don't you like it?”

I looked at it more carefully.

“It's so different.”

“Different good or different bad?” she asked.

“Maybe you're not even the real Mary Ann. Maybe you're an imposter. You kidnapped Mary Ann again, didn't you? What have you done with her?” I looked down at her legs. “At least you're not still trying the panty hose disguise.”

“Tights.” Mary Ann looked anxious. “I thought it looked kind of nice.” She looked back at me. “You don't like it, do you?”

“I don't care how it looks. Just give me my friend back.”

“It's really easy to take care of,” she said. “I can just blow it dry in a couple of minutes.” She glanced sideways at me. “Do you think I look older with my hair like this?”

“Older?” I said. “Why would you want to look older?”

“I don't know. But do you think I do?”

“Maybe a couple of months. But I still think you're a fake.”

She huffed loudly so I'd know she was ticked off. “Nice, Lizard,” she said. “Really nice!” She turned her bike toward school and we headed off.

While we were riding, I sneaked peeks at her. It was weird seeing Mary Ann look so different. Why would she want to look older?

I hadn't forgotten about the questions I wanted to ask her. It's just that I wasn't in the mood anymore to ask her about them.

Boy, Mary Ann's hair was the hot topic of the day. I don't know what all the fuss was about. You'd think she had won a gold medal at the Olympics or something instead of just getting her hair cut.

It started as soon as we arrived at school. We were locking our bikes to the rack, and I heard this loud squeal.

“
Oh, look at Mary Ann! Oooooo! Her hair's wonderful!
”

I looked up as a group of girls hurried over. They weren't Ginger's squealer friends, but they were just like them.

“Oh, Mary Ann! It's totally fabulous!” gushed a girl with long blond hair.

“Who did it?” cooed another girl who fingered Mary Ann's short locks. “I've got to get an appointment.”

“Her name is Tracy,” Mary Ann said, beaming. “She's at Hair Unlimited.”

“The boys will really go after you now,” said a third girl.

“And that blush is wonderful!” the blonde said. “What's the shade?”

Mary Ann giggled. “Coy Pink.”

Blush? Mary Ann was wearing blush?

The bell rang then and the squealers hurried off.

“You're wearing blush?” I said. I peered at her cheeks. “Why would you want to do that?”

“I don't have much on. Tracy put it on me, and I kind of liked it. Do you?”

“I didn't even know you had it on,” I said.

“That's how it's supposed to look—like it's not even there.”

“If it's not supposed to show, why bother?” I said.

“Are you mad or something?”

“Why should I be mad?” My voice sounded loud.

“I don't know,” she said. “You're just acting funny.”

“No, I'm not mad,” I said.

Maybe I
was
mad, just a little. I guess it was because Mary Ann was doing the things that those dumb girly-girls do. And we hate girly-girls.

At least I thought we did.

I
did.

When I got to my locker, I found two pink envelopes stuck to it with tape. One was labeled “Ginger” and the other was for me. I tore mine off the locker and opened it.

The card had three pink bunnies on the outside. It said, “Please hop on over to my party!” On the inside were lines that had been filled in.

What:
A slumber party!

When:
Saturday night, 8 P.M.

Where:
At Lisa's house, 2113 Oakcrest Drive

Lisa had written on the bottom in her loopy handwriting:
Bring a sleeping bag and pillow. We'll provide the movie, the munchies, and the soda. Be prepared NOT to sleep.

I tossed the invitation back into my locker and pulled out the books I'd need for the morning.

“Hi, Lizard!” Ginger appeared behind me with Heather and Tiffany.

Ginger ripped her envelope off the locker door. “This must be Lisa's party invitation.” She pulled out the card. “That's cute.” She held up the card for Heather and Tiffany to see. “It'll be a great party. Can you go?” she asked me.

“How did you know I was invited?”

“Lisa told me. You and Mary Ann are both invited. Hey, we saw Mary Ann's hair this morning! She looks adorable!”

“Really cute,” Tiffany said.

“Sophisticated,” Heather said.

“She's smart.” Ginger smiled knowingly. “She's making herself into boy bait.”

“Into
what?
”

“You know,” Ginger said. “Boy bait. She's going to attract the boys in a major way. Wait till they see her today.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Her new haircut,” Ginger said patiently. “Her new look. The new cut and blush. She's obviously doing it to get boys.”

“She looks older with her hair like that,” Heather said.

“Maybe she'll even get an
eighth grader
” Ginger said. “That would be
spectacular.
”

I had a headache. “I gotta go to class.”

“Okay, see you later,” Ginger said.

“'Bye, Lizard!” Heather and Tiffany said.

I turned and hurried down the hall. Was Ginger right? Was Mary Ann doing all that stuff to turn herself into boy bait? My head was filled with all the stuff I'd seen and heard since school had started. Everything was different. People were acting so weird.

I stopped in the recessed doorway to an empty room and watched the students walk by. They looked normal; they talked and laughed and hurried by.

But they weren't normal.

I remembered an old movie I'd seen on TV about aliens that take over the Earth. In a horrible process called The Change, the aliens turned everyone into zombies, one by one.

This is like an alien takeover, I thought. The aliens were getting everyone in town! First Zach, then Mary Ann and Sam. And all the rest of the kids who looked and acted different from last year. They were going through The Change, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. It was spreading through town, out of control.

Well, they didn't have me. And they weren't going to get me. I wouldn't let them. I'd be the last normal kid remaining on the planet.

Alone against the aliens.

8

“Why would you want to go to that slumber party?” I said to Mary Ann in the hall between classes. “Those girls are so stupid! And Lisa's a snot!”

She'd just run over to tell me she'd been invited. The hallway was crowded. Kids flowed past us as we stood in the middle like a couple of rocks in a rushing stream.

“I know they're kind of silly,” Mary Ann said. “But I like them anyway. Maybe it's dumb, but I like being a part of the group. Besides, they're a lot of fun.”

“Fun?” I said loudly. “Hairstyles and dances and
boys
! That's fun? Who cares about that stuff?”

Mary Ann looked embarrassed when I started yelling. She pulled me over next to the wall. “What's wrong with liking those things?” she said. She looked mad now.

“Mary Ann, what's gotten into you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You're turning into somebody I don't even know,” I said. “Wearing panty hose, cutting your hair—”

“Things are different now,” Mary Ann said. “We're not little kids anymore.” She took a step back and raised her voice. “And stop talking as if I'm not being a loyal friend just because I bought a pair of tights!”

“You're turning into the
enemy
,” I said.

“What?”

“You're turning into a stupid girly-girl who runs with the airhead crowd and does everything everyone else does.
You're turning into a zombie, Mary Ann
!”

“Well, thank you very much!”

“Those girls are idiots!”

“So stay home by yourself!” Mary Ann snapped. “But you won't make any friends that way. And if you're not careful, Lizard Flanagan, you're not going to have any friends left!”

She turned and stalked down the hall.

I watched her go. The corridor had pretty much cleared by now. Most of the kids were at their next class.

I waited for Mary Ann to turn back and look at me, but she didn't. She kept walking.

I suddenly felt very lonely. Mary Ann and I'd had fights before, but this time was different. I shouldn't have called her a zombie, but it was too late to take it back.

I felt a hollow sensation in the pit of my stomach. Maybe I'd have to go to that stupid slumber party. Not because I wanted to, but because I didn't want Mary Ann to be mad at me forever and ever.

“Sam, I need the sleeping bag,” I said, opening his bedroom door on Friday afternoon.

Sam's head jerked up from a magazine he was reading. He slid it under his pillow and jumped from the bed.

“It's right here,” he said. He hurried to his closet and pulled the sleeping bag out of the back.

“What were you reading?” I asked.

“What?”

“The magazine. The one you shoved under your pillow.”

I walked over to his bed and pulled it out from under the pillow before he reached me.