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Part 7

Journal Entry: February 7^th

Okay now, where were we? It seems that I was going home with Robbyn and her mom.

We leave the mall and go to their car and load all of our stuff into the back of their Honda Pilot, then Robbyn and I climb into the back seat and off we go.

It turns out that Robbyn only lives about a mile away from my house. At first I wasn’t too worried until Robbyn mentions that we could get together all of the time, now.

Now the prospect of hanging around Robbyn all of the time is rather mixed. On the positive side, well, I think that I’ve already mentioned that she’s gorgeous. Well, she’s also real funny, and real smart too. She’s a lot smarter than she acts. She tends to act the ‘dumb blonde,’ but she’s anything but dumb. She also makes me feel at ease. This isn’t something I take lightly. I think I’ve mentioned that I’m really shy and I’ve never felt that way around Robbyn. Maybe because of how we met, but the only other person I feel this at ease with is Ellen.

Now on the negative side, it’s all tied up in that she thinks I’m a girl. What will happen if she finds out the truth? I don’t want to hurt her and I don’t want to lose what’s turning out to be an important friendship for me.

Ugh! Why does my life have to be so complicated?

Well, we get to Robbyn’s house and we unload the car and take all of Robbyn’s things up to her room while her mom goes to take care of dinner.

Now I had formed a picture in my mind of how I thought Robbyn’s room would look. Boy am I wrong. I had expected pink and fluffy and boy band posters and movie star pictures and lots and lots of stuffed animals. I’m right about the stuffed animals and close about the pink.

Her room is a pale rose color and she has a big canopy bed covered in stuffed animals. On the walls though, there aren’t posters of movie stars and boy bands, instead there are pictures of the planets and posters of galaxies and other astronomical things. On her desk is even a picture of her meeting Stephen Hawking! Now I’m not big into physics (some of the math is just too out there for me) but even I have heard of Hawking.

Don’t get me wrong, there is a bunch of stuff around that absolutely made it clear that this is a girl’s room, but the astronomy and physics stuff threw me.

I asked her about it and she suddenly seemed very nervous and if I didn’t know any better, shy.

“You don’t think I’m weird or anything, do you?” she asks me.

Well, this question floors me and I’ve never seen her act so, well, so unsure of herself before. I quickly tell her that absolutely not, I think it is cool but I do wonder why she tends to put on the ‘dumb blonde’ act.

“Well, I am blonde you know. Plus I need to perfect my image if I’m going to get the scholarship I’m after plus the money I’ll need for school.”

My reply is, “You can get money for acting dumb?”

“Not dumb, but in a certain way.”

“Okay, I give, how?”

“I plan to win the Miss America contest the year I graduate high school.”

Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather. I just stand there with what must be a stupid look on my face, then ask her to explain further.

“Well,” she starts, “you see, I plan on going to Stanford University and I’m going to study physics. My grandparents and my mom and dad have an education fund all set up for me to pay for it. Now I’ve made a deal with them, for every dollar, real or in the form of a scholarship that I can apply towards school, they will pay me directly into my personal account a dollar and a half.

“Now basic tuition at Stanford can be as much as $50,000 plus per year. So the more that I can apply to that, the more I can get. If I can get a $50,000 scholarship, I’ll get $75,000 from my folks and grandparents. That’s a huge incentive for me.

“These beauty contests are big on scholarships and in addition, did you know that the last Miss America earned over $100,000 for speaking engagements during her reign?”

“Okay,” I tell her, “let’s say you get into the contest, you’re certainly pretty enough, what’s your talent?”

She turns to her stereo and puts in a CD. The music starts to play then the singing begins and the voice is beautiful. I then realize that Robbyn is the one singing!

I can’t begin to describe the sound of her voice. You not only hear it, you feel it on an emotional level.

Robbyn sings a bit then stops and shyly asks, “Well?”

My only response is, “Wow!” I can’t tell her that at that moment I think I’ve fallen in love with her.

After I get my senses back, I tell her that between her wonderful voice and how absolutely gorgeous she is, she’s sure to win.

She smiles and immediately is back to her perky, energetic self. Apparently, Robbyn is a bit self-conscious about her abilities.

Robbyn then tries to tell me that she thinks I am far prettier than she is.

“Oh yeah, for a tall skinny boy I’m not too bad.” Then I realize what I have just said and my heart falls thru the floor.

There is silence in the room and I am afraid of looking at Robbyn for fear of her reaction.

I finally look up at her and I’m right: she looks just a tad pissed at me.

“Please don’t be mad at me Robbyn, I’m sorry.” I’m on the verge of tears.

Angrily she says, “As well you should be. Is it any wonder you say that, given the way you dress? You are pretty–beautiful in fact, but dressing the way you do you’ll never realize it. Now, Miss Thing, I’m going to show you just what a knockout you truly are. Now sit here and do exactly what I tell you to do. Understand? Good.”

Oh my god! Now what have I gotten myself into? I think I have blown the whistle on myself and she takes it for me putting myself down. I have no idea what to do, but to try to bluff my way through.

I sit at her dressing table where she indicates and say that maybe we should see if her mom needs any help with dinner. Her immediate reply is that her mom is just going to put together a chef’s salad and shrimp cocktail and that most of it is already made, and for me just to sit and be quiet for a minute while she looks me over.

She tells me that if we had the time that we’d do a total package makeover but for today, we’ll just do a bit of makeup.

Make up!? Me? I can’t wear makeup and I try to tell her this, too. I tell her that I’m not allowed to wear any and besides it is bad for your complexion, it clogs pores and is the leading cause of global warming, so you see, I just can’t...

Robbyn just stares at me, tapping her foot. I think I might have mentioned that she’s a bit of a force of nature when she gets an idea in her head.

“Bu-but I don’t know anything about makeup and I’m sure we don’t have time before dinner for me to learn and then I have to go home so there won’t be time for me to learn and...”

Tap, tap, tap.

“We can wash it right off, right? I mean I’m sure that you’re great at putting this stuff on and all but I just know I’ll look ridiculous and so we can just do a tiny bit then wash it all off. Right?”

“Hmm...we’ll see. In fact, I’ll make you this promise, if you do look ‘ridiculous’ when I’m thru with you, then you can wash it all off. Okay?”

Feeling totally defeated I tell her, “Okay.” After all, no one is going to see me, right?

Oh god, how do I keep getting into these situations?

Robbyn’s response to my saying, ‘Okay,’ is to start jumping up and down clapping her hands.

“Okay then, come with me. I need your help carrying something upstairs.”

So we trek downstairs to the kitchen to get a barstool from the breakfast counter.

Mrs. Anderson is doing something at the sink and I immediately offer to help with dinner in any way possible.

Mrs. Anderson says that everything is pretty much done and that we’d eat in an hour. Robbyn just glares at me.

We carry the stool up to Robbyn’s room and Robbyn has me sit with my back to the mirror.

“Now, absolutely no peeking and try not to move around too much,” she says.

“This isn’t going to hurt or anything is it?” I ask.

“Don’t be silly. Now sit.”

I sit and Robbyn starts to brush my hair. I ask her why she acts dumber than she really is.

“Well,” she replies, “I tend to scare off people when they find out how smart I am. They tease me and call me names. I just find it easier all around to act the way people expect me to act. I guess I just gave up trying to tell everyone that I’m really not the way they initially perceive me to be.

“You don’t know how hard it is to be constantly mistaken for something you’re not.”

I’m about to jump in and tell her everything when she continues.

“There’s also the whole Miss America thing. It’s not that they’re looking for stupid, it’s just they look for a ‘type’ and a ‘look.’ If I can give them the look and type they’re seeking, I figure I’ll win. Anyhow, if nothing else, it’ll be fun.”

As she talks, she brushes my hair. I become so relaxed. I never realized just how relaxing having your hair brushed can be.

Robbyn is brushing, and then using what looks like a mechanical brush that is hot and spins on my hair until she finally pronounces that part done.

I start to get up and turn around when she stops me.

“Hey, we haven’t even begun yet. Sit.”

So I sit, and sit, and sit. All the while, she keeps rubbing stuff into my face then wiping it off, then putting something else on.

This goes on and on and I finally ask her what she is doing. She tells me not to worry about what she’s doing and to just relax and enjoy it. If everything goes as she has planned, she is sure that I will be begging her to learn it all.

Well, I don’t think that is at all likely, but I take her advice anyway and try to relax.

I must have done a good job of it because between the music playing in the background and the sound of her voice and all of the gentle touches on my face, an hour passes without me even realizing it.

The next thing I know, Robbyn’s mom comes and knocks on the door and sticks her head in the room to tell us that dinner is ready.

I’m still a bit dazed and totally relaxed so I barely notice the shocked expression on her face.

Robbyn says that she’s just finishing up, and I stand up and stretch. I then turn to look into the mirror only to find that Robbyn has covered it up with a sheet.

Robbyn says she wants to wait until after dinner for the unveiling.

My immediate response is to look and then wash it all off, but eventually Robbyn gets me very reluctantly to agree to wait until after dinner.

So we all traipse downstairs. I’m bringing up the rear when about halfway down the stairs I notice someone in the living room. I freeze and Robbyn takes off running, yelling, “Daddy, you made it!”

I’m frozen on the stairs. This is getting way out of hand now. I’m sure that with whatever Robbyn has done to me and, oh I don’t know–all I do know is that I’m scared to death. Here is someone else who would either mistake me for a girl or see thru this charade and blow the whistle. It is a no win situation for me.

Robbyn and her dad are obviously close and after they finish their hugging, Robbyn looks around and sees me still on the stairs.

Robbyn comes over to me, takes my hand and gives me a tug. “Alex, I want you to meet my dad.” Robbyn pulls me over to her father and says, “Dad, this is my friend Alex. Alex, this is my dad.”

“Um, it’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“The pleasure is all mine. Are you in school with Robbyn?”

“Oh no, sir. We just met the other day at the theater.”

“Oh, do you work there?”

“Me? Oh no, I’m not old enough to get a job yet.”

“Oh, my mistake, you look like you’re 17 or 18.”

I give a little laugh and tell him I’m only 15, or will be in May.

We are all heading into the dining room and at my remark, all three of them stop and look at me.

“What?”

Robbyn says that she was sure I was 17, 16 at the youngest.

I’m thinking that maybe everyone believes I’m too young and that Robbyn might not want me to be here anymore ’cause I’m too young to be with her, and I start to mumble that maybe I should just go and that I’m sorry and I won’t be a bother as my house isn’t too far away.

Okay, so I’m just a little bit insecure. So sue me.

So I stop and Robbyn stops and sees that I’m clearly upset and her parents see that I’m upset and leave us alone after telling me that I am more than welcome to stay, that they are just a bit surprised because I look so much older than I really am.

Robbyn comes over and gives me a hug. “Silly goose, mom was right, we all just thought that you were older because you look and act so much older. It’s okay if you’re not, it was just a surprise. Heck, I’m only fifteen myself. Now let me dab your eyes ’cause if you let your makeup run, I’ll clock you a good one.”

Oh god, I have almost forgotten the makeup.

We all sit down to eat and Mrs. Anderson keeps looking at me and it’s beginning to freak me out. I finally ask her if something is wrong.

Her reply is, “No, I was just admiring the makeup job. Did you do it or did Robbyn?”

“Me? No way, I don’t know the first thing about makeup. This is all Robbyn. It doesn’t look too bad, does it?”

Smiling, she says, “Lord no, Robbyn did an outstanding job. You also have great features and a wonderful complexion so don’t give Robbyn all of the credit.”

“Robbyn won’t let me see it yet.”

To this, Robbyn says that I can, right after dinner.

Well, both Mr. and Mrs. Anderson make a few more compliments that only make me more nervous and embarrassed, and then the conversation turns to other things like Mr. Anderson’s work. Apparently he is a doctor, a surgeon to be exact.

I’m afraid that I don’t eat all that much, I’m much too nervous. After dinner, I offer to help clean up but Mrs. Anderson just tells Robbyn and myself to run on and have fun. So we go back up to Robbyn’s room.

The time has come for me to see exactly what Robbyn has done to me. To say I’m nervous would have been an understatement. Quite frankly, I feel like I’m going to throw up.

Robbyn has me sit back down at the makeup table, facing the mirror this time. She gives my hair a quick brush and then touches up the makeup a bit and then tells me to close my eyes.

Just wanting to get this over with at this point, I follow her instructions and close them. My stomach is doing flip-flops the whole time and the butterflies I have, have grown to the size of eagles.

I hear Robbyn remove the sheet from the mirror and find myself holding my breath when she finally tells me to open my eyes.

You’re absolutely going to love what happens next.

So, I open my eyes and look into the mirror and the next thing I realize is that Robbyn and her mom and dad are leaning over me asking if I’m okay. I had fainted.

After assuring everyone that I am indeed fine, I sit back up and look into the mirror again. I almost pass out again.

The person looking back at me isn’t me! This can’t be me. This is a girl, a girl older than me.

Okay, I know that I’m constantly being mistaken for a girl, hence my current predicament. I will even reluctantly admit that I do look a bit like a girl. But this! What is looking back at me was not someone who happens to look a bit like a girl, this IS a girl, a beautiful girl. There is nothing to say boy but my clothes. Robbyn has done some sort of magic.

My hair is now straight with the ends curling inward. It even looks longer. The makeup itself is very subtle: I have to look really closely to see most of it. My cheekbones are more defined and I also now know what Robbyn means about making my eyes pop. They are now popping away. They look far bluer than they have ever looked before, larger too.

My lips look fuller and are shiny. I find myself wondering what it would be like to kiss those lips then suddenly remember that those kissable lips are mine. Even my slightly crooked nose looks good.

I am completely speechless and I don’t know how long I stand there just looking at myself. It is obviously long enough for Robbyn to worry that I hate what she has done.

Robbyn says, “Oh, you don’t like it! I really, really thought you would, too.”

All I can do is turn to her and hug her. I bury my face into her shoulder and cry. I cry and I cry, and between sobs I try to tell her that she has done a wonderful job. When she asks why I’m crying then, I can’t tell her. I don’t know the real reason myself.

After making sure that I’m okay, Robbyn’s dad leaves the room but Robbyn’s mom is still there. When I finally get my crying under control, I can see that she and Robbyn are both worried about my reaction.

I try to tell them that everything is fine, that Robbyn has done such an outstanding job that it is just a shock for me to see it. I hadn’t expected such a dramatic change. All of that is true up to a point, but there is more to it than that and I can’t tell them. Hell, I don’t know all of the reasons myself.

At this point, all of my crying has totally ruined Robbyn’s wonderful makeup job. I now look like a raccoon with puffy red eyes.

Mrs. Anderson tells us to get all cleaned up then she’ll drive me home. Robbyn shows me how to clean off all of the makeup. We then go downstairs, both of us in much better spirits.

They take me home and Robbyn won’t let me get out of the car until I promise her that we’ll get together again later this week. I agree and she says she’ll call me after school the next day and we’ll arrange a day and time.

I tell them both goodbye and thank you, and then take my packages inside.

That was pretty much how my weekend went. Oh, today Mom went thru all of the stuff I had bought. Okay, not the running outfit that Robbyn talked me into buying, I hid that, but everything else. She isn’t real pleased by how big some of the stuff is but I did point out that given how fast I’m growing, bigger is better. This is just meant to hold me over until my growing slows down or stops.

She agrees and then comments on my new shoes. She asks, “Why did you get girls’ shoes?”

Well, I’m floored. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I thought Nike only used the pink swoosh on the girls’ shoes.”

Damn, I never even noticed that. I just say, “Oh man, I didn’t even see that. Well they’re probably the most comfortable shoes I’ve gotten so far. Maybe I can just cover the pink with a marker or something.”

That seems to satisfy her. I still have almost a hundred dollars left so she says I should go back and get some more clothes–ones that fit even better. She’ll deal with having me grow out of them.

Damn. Well, hopefully I’ll think of something.

Oh well, this is one of the longest entries that I’ve done so far and I think I need to end it.

Later.

End Journal Entry

Photo Credit: Ray Philson