Free Absolute Brightness by James Lecesne Page B

me. He didn’t need to name anything. I was busy doing a complete mental inventory, trying to recall every item I’d ever stolen, while forcing my face to adopt the most innocent expression I could manage under the circumstances.
    The phone rang. It was Mom calling to find out what all the howling had been about. She said she’d heard it over the sound of the hair dryer, for God’s sakes. When I told her what had happened, she immediately left her station to be by Leonard’s side. Even though the crisis had passed, Mom cradled Leonard in her arms and talked softly to him while Mrs. Ferrante was kept waiting in the salon with a wet head and a fashion magazine. That kind of coddling never happened to me when I was Leonard’s age and I happened to fall into a pit of despair about the sorry state of my life. I returned to my room to read the last of Fanny Price. She and her new husband “had removed to Mansfield Park,” and soon those people who had caused Fanny “some painful sensation of restraint and alarm” began to seem “thoroughly perfect in her eyes.” Lucky for her. Of my makeover nothing more was said.
    *   *   *
    A month later, as I sat perched on the edge of Electra’s bed pretending to have trouble with the zipper of my sweatshirt, I couldn’t help wondering why Leonard had never gotten around to at least suggesting some improvement to my person. Was I too far gone? Did he think I wasn’t worth it? Had my personal glow completely disappeared? He had zeroed in on almost everyone in town. Either he had made substantial changes to each of them or he had had a plan. Even if they point-blank refused to change their hair color or have their faces peeled or their tummies tucked or any of the 1,001 things he had in mind for them to do, they seemed to blossom simply because someone had them in mind and was willing to think of them as more than what they were. In this way, my mother had become someone else, and my sister was now unrecognizable. Surely I had to be next. But when? After so many months of waiting for Leonard to propose a plan for my improvement, I was beginning to see that I might be mistaken. I just wasn’t in the running. He had no interest in me. Whenever I saw him coming at me, I ducked into my room and prayed he wouldn’t find me. He usually walked right by. If he came upon me while I was doing my hair or putting on makeup, he stared at me hard but never made a suggestion. And Lord knows I could have used some suggestions. You might think that I’m putting myself down when I tell you this, but I’m not; it’s just something I’ve learned from experience. I’m just not the type of girl a guy like Travis Lembeck kisses twice.
    â€œWhat’s wrong with me ?” I asked Leonard, blurting out the question that had been rolling around in my brain for the past several weeks.
    Electra and Leonard stopped discussing the merits and failings of various modern movie stars and their respective current hairstyles and upcoming projects. They both turned their attention on me, a non–movie star.
    â€œI mean, how come I never get a makeover?”
    I was looking directly at Leonard, though I gave a sharp, quick look over to Electra. I wanted to let her know that this was not some sort of practical joke that I was playing on Leonard. I wasn’t setting him up for a fall like we sometimes did just so we could watch his shoulders slump and his mouth turn down the moment when he discovered we were actually putting him on. No, this was serious. I wanted to know once and for all.
    â€œEverybody else seems to get some kind of program, while I’m just left to sit on the bed and play with my zipper.”
    â€œPheebs,” said Electra with real hesitancy in her voice, “for real?”
    â€œYes, for real. But hey, it’s not like I would do what he says, or anything. And I’m not going around