CHAPTER ONE

Three reasons you dont want a crystal ball:

1. Theyre a pain to dust.

2. To look into one you really should dress like a

medium. Enough said.

3. Sometimes its better not to know.

1

Because once you know something, you can never not know it.

Your life becomes before and after. The mountains you thought

were important become barely noticeable pebbles, and things you

hadnt even known existed become the Himalayas of your soul.

The next time someone tries to read your future in a crys-

tal ball, just say no.

I wish I had.

1

4 Wendy Mi l l s

It is an ordinary Tuesday morning. I was late to school because

Trina had trouble with her garter belt (dont ask), Ms. Garri-

son is hopped up on an energy drink (as usual), and I had so far

managed to go the entire day without saying a word in class

(par for the course).

We did well on this paper, but I think we can do better,

Ms. Garrison says, leaning her cushy hip against the side of

her desk and tapping her foot to the rhythm of her caffeine

buzz. I know we can!

Ms. Garrison sometimes speaks in the royal we, as if

there are a couple of personalities in her head and she is speak-

ing for all of them. I think it is her way of connecting with us,

to let us know she is one of us, that we are all in this together.

I begin doodling around my notes on Amy Tan, making

the A in Amy a diamond and shading it in. Im thinking about

my physics test tomorrow, wondering if I should study some

more to night or go do a photo shoot with Trina.

Erin? Erin Bailey?

I look up. Ms. Garrison is smiling at me. Everyone else is

packing up.

I said, Erin, would you stay after class for a minute?

Absolutely, I say, and someone makes kissy- kissy noises.

It isnt mean-spirited, just Herbert Wallace trying to be funny,

but it still makes me blush.

After everybody clears out, Ms. Garrison comes around to

the front of her desk. She looks me in the eye, all serious. She

used to be a professor at Columbia or Harvard, but decided to

give up the big city so she could come mold young minds in

Po s i t i v e l y B e au t i f u l 5

the sticks. She takes her job seriously, and I have to admit

shes one of the best teachers Ive ever had.

Your writing is impressive, Erin. She stares at me expec-

tantly like Im going to clap like a seal or something. I restrain

the urge.

Ah . . . , I say. Thank you? When my sophomore

En glish teacher suggested I take advanced En glish this year,

I was less than thrilled. Especially when I found out it would

be heavy on writing. Ive always loved words and the way they

make sense, and make you feel, make you understand things,

but I just never saw myself as the person writing those words.

The whole essay about parents needing to take ginkgo

biloba so they can remember what it was like to be a kid . . .

It made me laugh. Your paper was hands- down the best in the

class.

I tilt my head to the side so my hair sweeps over my fl am-

ing cheeks.

You know Im the teacher adviser for the school e-zine,

correct? she says. We think you would make a great addi-

tion to our little crew. I wanted to talk to Faith about this

before she left Oh! There she is. Perfect. Faith, can I talk to

you a moment?

I turn and see Faith Hiller, her shiny black hair cut in

bangs across her forehead, her eyes a startling blue. Shes smart

and pretty, president of everything from the debate club to

the student council, and editor of the school e-zine. Im pretty

sure she works on world peace in her free time. She is going

places and makes sure everybody knows it.

6 Wendy Mi l l s

I get the distinct feeling shes maybe been standing outside

the door listening.

You know Erin, right? Ms. Garrison puts her hand on my

back and I wonder if Im supposed to curtsy.

Faith walks slowly toward us, and I can feel her cool gaze

slide over my dark, jumbled curls, my decidedly- not- designer

jeans and gray T-shirt, down to my rotten old tennis shoes. I

wish Id worn the new ones, but they hurt my feet. Faith is tiny

and perfect in cute red- and- white- checkered capris and a white

peasant blouse that sets off her olive skin.

Erin? Faith says, and its a question.

I sat behind you in history last year, I say quickly, and

wish I hadnt. When all else fails, keep your mouth shut, Rinnie,

my memaw used to say. Good in theory, damn near impossi-

ble to implement. At least I didnt say, And we were in home-

room together our freshman year and you asked to borrow a pen and

didnt give it back. Or, even better, Remember in the cafeteria last

month when you asked your friend if that girl bothered to look in

the mirror before she left the house? That girl was me.

Faith cocks her head at me, her sleek, black hair swing-

ing. Oh. Sure. Hiii, Erin. She smiles all bright and big, like

a shiny white balloon fi lled with nothing but air. Shes say-

ing, I have absolutely NO idea who you are, nor do I care. We

both know that, right? But lets play nice- nice for Ms. Garrison,

shall we?

Ms. Garrison, bless her Ivy League little heart, is completely

clueless.

Good! We were talking about what a marvelous writer

Erin is. What do you think about having her join the e-zine?

Po s i t i v e l y B e au t i f u l 7

We need another reporter now that Trinas left us. What do

you think, Faith?

I try to look all Trina? Trina who?, hoping they dont real-

ize Trina is my best friend. Its not that Trina doesnt feel bad

when she abandons clubs, plans, and projects midstream

shes even bailed in the middle of a haircut because I texted

her a picture of a killer rainbow its just hard to explain to

other people.

Oh . . . Faith smiles that empty smile again. Well . . .

She manages to sound charming and embarrassed at the same

time. Shes neither. She doesnt want me. Now I know she heard

what Ms. Garrison said about my paper being the best in the

class, better than Faiths. She may not have known who I was

before, but she knows now.

Erins really a very talented writer . . . Ms. Garrison is

puzzled by Faiths yawning interest in her idea. Yes, Faith

is actually yawning, cute and kitteny, showing a lot of teeth.

Really, its okay, I say. Ive got a lot going on Lie,

lie, lie . . .

Please think about it, dear, wed be thrilled to have you,

Ms. Garrison says, shooting Faith a questioning look.

I fl ee for the door, feeling Faiths gaze like two sharp knives

in my back.

1

I leave Ms. Garrisons room and Trina grabs my arm in the

chaos of the hallways between classes.

Whats up, bee- aaatch, she says, falling in step beside me.

Today shes got some sort of Pippi Longstocking thing going

8 Wendy Mi l l s

on, with a short orange dress, striped leggings, and a cape.

And, of course, the purple garter belt.

I honestly dont know, I say. I feel like I just left the

Twilight Zone, where Ms. Garrison thinks Im some sort of

prizewinning journalist and Faith Hiller wants to decapitate

me slowly and painfully. I explain what happened.

Dont let her get to you. Faith thinks shes all that and a

bag of chips, Trina says, patting my arm sympathetically.

Her mom is some corporate hotshot, and Faith thinks that

makes her Ms. Thing. When I was on the e-zine staff, she acted

like I was some sort of servant girl who was supposed to kiss

her feet. One day, I even dressed like Nelly Dean, the maid

from Wuthering Heights. She didnt get it and shes supposed

to be smartbut at least I got an excuse to wear that cute lace

bonnet. People either love Trina or hate her. She doesnt seem

to care either way. Anywho, Ive got NEWS. Chaz, adorable,

smart, going- to- be- Mark- Zuckerberg Chaz . . .

I try not to smile. Chaz the Spaz. Thats what we were

calling him yesterday.

He asked me out. Can you believe it?

Of course I can believe it, I say loyally, because I catch

her thin edge of uncertainty. Boys dont ask Trina out. Boys

dont ask her out because she has a bumpy mole on her cheek,

crooked teeth, and an impossibly large nose. Once you get to

know her, all you notice is Trina, her big personality and even

bigger heart. Ive known her since I was six, so I dont even notice

how she looks anymore, but other people do. I know they do,

because we both hear what they say.

He says hes got some cool place he wants to show me

Po s i t i v e l y B e au t i f u l 9

Saturday night. I told him you and I were doing a movie

night

Oh, Trina, we can do that some other

No. Its all good. So he says, Why dont you bring her?

The more the merrier, right? Hes going to bring somebody too.

I dont think

Trying to get a word in is like holding back waves with a

knife. Trina just washes right over you.

Seriously. You have to come. Im ner vous enough as it is. If

you come, I wont feel so weird. Youll have a blast, I promise.

Uh- huh. Like the time she thought I would have a blast

when she tried to talk me into bungee jumping. Or the time

she thought it would be a blast to go toilet paper evil Mr. Jamess

house. Ive seen Chaz the Spazs friends. Im not at the pin-

nacle of high school hierarchy, far from it, but those geeky

guys make me look like Queen Victoria. It wont be a blast. Im

certain of it.

Please? Pretty, pretty please? She stops in the middle of

the hall and throws herself down on her knees in front of me,

confusing a herd of freshman who go all wide- eyed and ner vous.

I shrug at them as Trina looks up at me with her trademark

this- is- me- beseeching- you look.

Look, shes proposing, someone snickers.

Okay, okay! Get up. Please.

She jumps to her feet like nothings happened.

Youre going to have a blast, she says.

I smile and keep my mouth shut.

Positively Beautiful