Ransom(31)

Paige snorts, while Karen gapes at me and says, “No. No, you won’t.”

“Why? I’m comfortable in this,” I say.

“Daisy, sweetie, come on. You haven’t seen Daltrey in ages. Don’t you want to look nice?” Paige stops and blushes. “Not that you don’t look nice, of course. I would never say—”

“You look schlumpy,” Karen interrupts.

Paige punches her arm. “Karen!”

“What? She does.” Karen turns back to me. “No offense. You just look like you’re going to class, not like you’re going out to a concert. Especially not like you’re going to a concert with backstage passes.”

“I always dress like this.” I’m starting to feel uncomfortable with both of them staring at me.

Paige holds up her hands. “If you want to wear jeans and a”—she gulps as if the next word is hard for her to get out—”a hoodie to a Ransom concert, that’s fine. If you’re really comfortable and don’t feel like dressing up at all, we’ll leave you alone. But if you change your mind, we’ll help you.”

Karen nods and looks sadly at my hoodie, which I have to admit is looking a little ragged. I listen while they discuss their choices. Karen is debating between a skirt and a dress, while Paige can’t make up her mind about leather pants versus hot pink jeans. I consider what Paige said. This is the first time I’ll be seeing the boys in months. I wonder if I’ll look different to them. I know I’ve lost some weight. For a while there, my hair was getting really lank and dull, but it seems to have improved a bit lately. As far as my clothes, back in high school I pretty much lived in jeans and T-shirts, not that different from what I have on now.

With their clothes chosen, the girls start to argue over accessories. I’ve never really been into the choosing of the every minute detail of an outfit. But watching Karen and Paige, I start to wonder if maybe it’s not a little bit fun. What would it hurt to get a little dressed up? I’m supposed to be trying new things.

As I climb off the bed to ask them for help, I try hard to believe my decision has nothing to do with not wanting to be the only not-cute one when Daltrey sees us.

***



Two hours later, Paige shoos me out of the bathroom to go get dressed. “The outfit I picked is on your bed. You’ll love it, I promise.”

I look at her uncertainly. I’m not a fan of the “Daisy can’t see what she’s wearing” plan.

She raises her eyebrows at me when I don’t go right away. “Have I given you reason to doubt me so far?”

She has a point. She and Karen have spent the better part of the last two hours helping me get ready. After my shower, they dried and straightened my normally spiral-curled hair. After it was straight and soft, Karen used the biggest curling iron I’ve ever seen to give me soft, gentle waves. The idea of straightening my hair just to curl it again seemed kind of strange to me, but I have to admit the end product is pretty great. She then did some complicated braid thing at the crown of my head so that my hair would be out of my face but still loose and long. I really like it; I might even ask her to teach me how to do it myself.

They also applied my makeup. I never thought I’d be the type of person to wear body glitter, but Paige assured me it was more like a shimmer and it looked good.

Karen, however, put her foot down when Paige tried to put her trademark candy-red lipstick on me. “That’s not you,” Karen told me firmly. She stepped in with a darker, brownish-pink that I much preferred.

“Daisy, come on,” Paige says, pushing me gently toward the door. “I need to finish my makeup. Just go get dressed.”

I walk out into the room, crossing my fingers. Paige is dressed in black leather pants and a skin-tight hot-pink tank top with leather boots up to her knees. Karen, on the other hand, is wearing a little black tank dress that’s so tight I’m not sure how she can move. I warned Paige that I’m not that bold, but she assured me it’d be fine.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I see her choices. Laid out on the bed are a pair of short black shorts, a baggy purple tank top, and a black vest. The shorts are a lot shorter than I’m used to, but otherwise, the outfit’s not that bad. I slip into the clothes and check the mirror. I definitely look as though I could fit in with the girls we saw at the venue, but I don’t feel too overdone, either. Then I look down at my bare arms, and my stomach sinks. I plop down on the edge of the bed, tears in my eyes, seconds away from a full out panic attack.

Paige comes out a few minutes later “What’s wrong? You don’t like it? We can find you something else!”