The Alpha Bet (4 page)

“We don’t have much time,” she suddenly realizes. She grabs the campus phone book and starts flipping through it like a maniac. She stops on a page, grabs her cell phone out of her pocket and frantically dials a number.

“Yes, we need your geek to chic package, asap,” she mumbles into the phone. A few seconds later, she clicks off, grabs my arm, and pulls me out of the dorm.

****

“You’re sure you want to do this?” the stylist asks me, holding a pair of scissors under my ponytail.

“More than anything in the whole world,” I reply. My head starts to jerk a little as she saws through my thick stump of hair. A few seconds later, I feel five pounds lighter. “Make sure you save that so I can donate it to Locks of Love,” I tell her, not looking up. I want to wait until my highlights and cut are done completely before I look at myself. I should have done this year’s ago. I can’t help but wonder why Mom never tried to talk me into cutting my hair more stylish or why she never taught me about makeup.

“Holy crap, GK. She shaved you like an alpaca.” I hear Jentry say. I can’t see her, only her hand that is holding a Diet Coke.

“Very funny. Aren’t you supposed to be finding me some rush clothes?” I ask, gesturing wildly for a drink of her soda. I try to sip it upside down but the soda just runs into my nose making me sneeze.

“About that. This little excursion isn’t going to be cheap, you know.”

I had forgotten all about paying for this stuff. Of course, I’ve been saving for college since I was eight, but that money has to last four years. I can’t be blowing it all the first week. But surely a hairdo and some basic cosmetics can’t cost that much.

“How much are we talking here?” I ask Jentry.

“About four hundred for your hair and makeup,” Jentry says nonchalantly.

“Dollars?” I yell, jerking my head up. My stylist calmly pushes it back down and continues cutting the long layers that Jentry requested.

“I told you, beauty is painful,” Jentry says tapping her foot impatiently. I guess I did promise no whining, but how can these people sleep at night charging such astronomical prices for the use of scissors and hair dye? I have two hundred extra from my book savings and I’ll pay for my new clothes out of my savings. That leaves me with two hundred more that I need to come up with.

“Jentry, hand me my phone,” I say, gesturing toward the corner of the stylists vanity.

She doesn’t say anything but hands it to me under my hair. I take a deep breath before dialing my parent’s phone number. Sean answers on the second ring.

“I already moved into your room,” he boasts, obviously making use of the caller ID.

“Nice try, troll, but I know Mom wouldn’t let you do that,” I laugh. The truth is she is probably praying for me to come running home to her any day now. Nothing would make her happier than for me to call and say I couldn’t cut it away from her. I’d rather eat glass.

“I’m really glad you’re gone.” He teases. “The extra attention I’m getting from Mom is really super,” he says, his voice slightly bitter.

I feel a small tinge of guilt but not enough to distract me from the reason I called.

“You’ll live, Sean. You know what they say. What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.”

“They never met our mom. She started making me wear my helmet again,” he says disgustedly. I don’t have the heart to tell him that I actually agree with Mom on this one. I’ve seen Sean’s report cards and he is one head injury away from repeating eighth grade.

“I need to talk to Dad,” I say, choosing the lesser of two evils.

“No can do, sis. They went on a date.”

“With each other?”

“I know. Creepy, right?”

It is a little out of character for my couch potato parents. I don’t dwell on it though because I am too excited that I don’t have to actually talk to them and can make Sean do my dirty work.

“I need them to deposit two hundred dollars in my checking account.” I tell him. “Write this down so you don’t forget.” I insist.

I hear him rummaging through our junk drawer for a pen and paper.

“Grace Kelly needs two hundred dollars for a giant box of condoms. Got it,” he howls, cracking himself up.

“Thanks, Sean. Bye,” I say, wondering why my mother is always so worried about me when her other child is so clearly in need of help.

“Bye, sis. Oh, and tell that sweet honey of a roommate of yours that I’ve got a special place for her panties.” He laughs, clicking off.

I fight the urge to throw up in my mouth as I flip my phone shut.

****

“How much more of this do I have to endure?” I whine, tired after a day of being waxed, tweezed, highlighted, and exfoliated. Who knew beauty would be so time consuming? I was really hoping to get some advance reading done for some of my classes but at this rate it isn’t going to happen today.

“Shut it. I told you, no whining. Besides, as soon as you slip this vest over your head, you’ll be done,” Jentry replies, with a huge smile on her face. I know I must look pretty good the way she’s been grinning all day, but I haven’t seen myself yet. Jentry thought it would be more fun if I waited until after she’d done my makeup and I’d changed into one of my new outfits. I know I feel different, in a good way. I like the way my hair swishes around my shoulders every time I move. I caught a glimpse of the highlights, when I was attempting to put in contacts for the first time, even though Jentry had my hair wrapped in a towel. I could see a bit of auburn, which I really like.

I pull the vest over the short-sleeved silk shirt I’m wearing.

“Careful, GK,” Jentry shouts, running over to help me slide the vest over my head. “Don’t mess up your hair.”

“You sure are taking this seriously,” I joke, adjusting the vest over my shirt.

“Hey, when I start a project I take it very seriously and I have a feeling that Project Geek to Greek is going to be my biggest accomplishment yet.”

“Hey, I wasn’t a total geek,” I defend myself, even though I know she’s right. I’m smart enough to know that looks aren’t everything, but I’m not dumb enough to believe they don’t matter at all. Besides, I wasn’t happy with the way I looked. I made Jentry believe that the makeover was only for the Alphas, but mostly, it was for me. I’ve never been comfortable in my own skin.

“Here put these on,” Jentry says, thrusting a pair of black heels at me.

“Oh, no. I can barely walk in tennis shoes,” I refuse.

“Just try them on in here, you don’t have to walk anywhere. I just want you to get the full effect of the outfit,” she insists. I grab the shoes from her and slip them on, instantly adding three inches and lots of wobble to my height.

“Smile,” Jentry says, grabbing her phone to take my picture. I try my best not to look awkward like I normally tend to in photos. She snaps a few pictures then lays the phone back on her desk. I get sort of melancholy wishing I could email a picture home to my parents. But my mom would be on her way to pull me out of school within an hour claiming I had already succumbed to the peer pressures of college and that makeup and hair products are just gateways. She would swear that if I kept up this pace I’d be using a flat iron and getting a Brazilian (which I just found out what this is today, and Mom would never have to worry about me doing that) by Christmas.

“Are you ready?” She asks, nearly bouncing with excitement.

I nod and turn to face the full-length mirror on the back of our dorm room door. Jentry pulls down the white sheet she had up and, at first, I think there is a stranger in the room. Very carefully, I walk up to the mirror. I put my hands into my shiny reddish-brown layered hair. I keep touching it, not believing that this is the same hair I’ve spent almost my entire life pulling into a ponytail each day. The next thing I notice are my eyes. I can actually see them without my glasses covering them up. Jentry lined them in a deep violet liner and used a very light brown on my lids to make them stand out even more. Each of my lashes look a mile long coated perfectly in black mascara. My cheeks and lips are the same exact shade of pink. I stare down at the outfit I’m wearing which looks tailor-made to fit my body. Jentry was right about the shoes, they look amazing with the dress capri’s I’m wearing. Who knew I had legs like this?

“Well, what do you think?” Jentry asks, finally, still bouncing up and down in excitement.

“Is it really me?” I ask, unable to take my eyes off myself.

“It’s the upgraded version of you,” Jentry laughs.

“It’s me. It’s really me,” I say, dancing around with excitement. I grab Jentry’s arms and start flinging her around. I lose my footing and twist my ankle, throwing my whole body off balance. I drop Jentry’s hands before I go flying to the ground. I land on the hard concrete floor with a thud.

“See, I told you it was still you,” Jentry laughs, helping me to my feet.

Later that night, Jentry corrals all the girls on our floor together to go to dinner. Until now, Jentry and I have mostly stayed to ourselves, so none of the girls have a clue about my makeover. For the first time in my life I feel confident about not only my brains, but my appearance, too.

There are six of us seated at a round table covered with a red and white-checkered tablecloth. We have mostly been discussing classes, which finally start in a few days, and I cannot wait. There is nothing more exciting than opening a pristine notebook and filling it with exciting new facts. I am glad that the university insists on incoming freshman moving in a week before classes start though. It has been great spending so much time getting to know Jentry and now no one on campus will know me as geeky Grace Kelly. Here I’m just GK.

I plan to spend most of tomorrow routing out the quickest way to get to each of my classes so that I don’t take the chance of running late and missing one ounce of lecture time.

“So, Grace Kelly, what’s your major?” A chunky girl with ebony hair asks me, interrupting my trailing thoughts.

“I’m pre-med. I want to be a pediatrician someday,” I answer confidently. I’ve known that I wanted to be a doctor since I was twelve and Sean brutally severed one of my dolls limbs with his baseball bat. I had so much fun fixing her up that I ripped her other arm off on purpose.

“Cool. It must feel good to know what you want to do with your life. I don’t have a clue,” she says, taking a sip of her iced tea.

“I’m going to open my own photography business someday,” Jentry pipes up, before sticking a cheesy nacho in her mouth.

“She’s amazing. You guys should see her pictures,” I brag.

“Maybe you could do some sorority headshots for me,” Sloane says. If she has any recollection of our first meeting, if you can call having a door slammed in your face a meeting, she doesn’t show it.  She tosses her long, straight blonde hair over her shoulders. She’s so tan she must have spent the entire summer someplace exotic. I’m no label connoisseur but even I can tell that all of her clothes and accessories are designer. She probably sweats money. I can’t stop myself from imagining what her life, as a rich, beautiful girl must be like. I’m hoping that she was just having a bad day the first time we met. I realize I’m gawking and quickly avert my eyes but not before noticing that she has at least one flaw. Her fingernails are bit down to the quick. It takes everything I have not to break into a lecture on the millions of germs lurking under our nails but something tells me she wouldn’t appreciate it. Besides, it is kind of nice knowing she isn’t completely perfect.

“What sorority are you in?” I ask her. Maybe she is one of those people that you really have to get to know to appreciate their personality, I think, giving her the benefit of the doubt.

“I’m not, officially, but soon I’ll be an Alpha,” she answers, not bothering to look up at me.

“That’s really cool. Jentry and I will be rushing the Alphas, too,” I say excitedly.

“You’re going to rush the Alphas?” Sloane asks, finally looking up. She has this really weird look on her face like I’ve just told her the funniest joke imaginable.

“Yeah, she is. Do you have a problem with that?” Jentry blurts out before I can answer. I look over at her to see that her cheeks are flushed and that she’s holding her fork more like a weapon than a tool to eat with.

“To each his own,” Sloane shrugs. “Just remember a haircut and some lip-gloss doesn’t change your entire personality.” She laughs and points to my chest. I look down to see that I’ve dripped marinara sauce all down the front of my new white blouse. I try to blot at the sauce with a napkin but I just end up smearing the entire front of my shirt with sauce. Suddenly the idea of trying to become an Alpha sister seems completely ridiculous. What was I thinking?

“Hey,” Jentry says and tosses her balled-up napkin at me. “She’s just jealous of you.”

“That’s right. I’m jealous of a girl who should still be wearing a bib,” Sloane laughs.

I don’t know what comes over me. Maybe it was the torture of my first eyebrow waxing at the spa, or maybe it was because I basically embezzled money from my parents for a makeover, but before I know it, I take my spoon, dip it in marinara sauce, and launch it toward Sloane. It splatters perfectly on her light pink dress. All of the girls start laughing and Jentry nearly falls out of her chair.

Sloane sits stunned for a few seconds. When she finally looks up, her eyes sear into me. As good as throwing the sauce at her felt, my knees start to shake in fear seeing her face now. I can’t believe I just did that! I’ve gone my entire life flying under everyone’s radar and now I’ve just pissed off the meanest girl on campus.

“You are so going to pay for that, geek.” She bolts out of her chair and takes off out of the restaurant.

Her words etch themselves in my mind. Could she be right? Will the Alphas just look at me and laugh? Will all these changes still result in my hypothesis turning out false?

“Don’t let her get to you, GK,” I hear Jentry’s voice whispering to me. I smile falsely and nod, knowing she already has.

****

“Let’s watch a movie,” Jentry says. She busies herself looking through her DVD’s while I take a stain remover stick to my new blouse. I still can’t shake the things that Sloane said tonight. I’ve never had anyone be so deliberately mean to me before. But then again I’ve never thrown marinara sauce on anyone before either.