Does it get easier? Not enough to notice...

By the time I got through changing clothes six or seven times, I was thoroughly sick of the whole thing. Everyone tried to be supportive and encouraging, and Linda was positively enthusiastic, but I ended the “fashum” show by coming out of my room wearing a pair of my old jeans and one of Dad’s polo shirts that had ended up in my laundry somehow.

Donna scowled at me. “Your little alligator is lying on his side. You’re cute even when you’re not trying to be,” she accused.

Linda laughed. “Hey! Cute is what I do!” Which made everyone laugh, even me.

Sisters are unnecessary at the best of times, and just annoying most of the time, but Linda can always make me smile.

“Well,” said Dad. “That was …quite something, Joni.” His expression seemed at odds with his words. I felt my lower lip tremble, so I grabbed it between my teeth.

Dad was smiling as he continued. “I guess I have three beautiful daughters now.”

Linda crowed like Peter Pan and proclaimed, “Daddy says you’re booti-ful, Joni!”

“I think he may have gotten a rear view of those jeans,” Donna commented.

I glared at her, and she smirked back, but I didn’t feel like crying about Dad’s hesitation or his compliment anymore. I had to push things, though, “Do you like my red hair?” I asked him.

Dad surprised me by chuckling. “Of course I do, honey,” he said. “It makes you look a bit like your aunt and less like, um, Jonny, so I guess that was sort of the idea?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “And getting it cut in a more, um, feminine style?” I blushed to admit that.

“It seems like…you have more of it, too?” Dad looked a bit confused.

“They put in some curl and fluffed it up, I dunno.”

“Teased it,” supplied Donna. “But not really; I dunno what it’s called.”

“Well, you’ve been teasing me, so that’s not it.”

“We’re sisters; we’re supposed to tease each other.”

That got a giggle from Linda. I looked at her and crossed my eyes, causing her to explode into such a violent storm of giggles that she had to lean on the dog who had appeared beside her when she needed him.

We all got a smile out of Linda and Fooler, and it helped things not feel so desperately painful. Mom kept things going by ruffling Fooler’s ears and Linda’s hair.

“Would anyone like to go see a movie?” Dad asked. “We could go to the drive-in, the show doesn’t start for more than an hour, but no one has school or work tomorrow.”

Mom looked thoughtful. “Linda always falls asleep in the drive-in,” she mentioned.

Dad smiled. “Don’t say that like it’s a bad thing.” They both laughed.

“What’s playing?” Donna asked.

This turned into a real discussion. There were a couple of musicals, Mom’s favored movie style and a couple of caper flicks, Dad’s favorite, playing on nearby screens. One of the nice things about living in the San Diego area is the weather is always good for drive-in movies.

“What do you kids think?” Dad tossed the ball in our direction. Surprisingly, Donna, Linda and I all agreed on Funny Girl, the Barbra Streisand musical.

“You’re outvoted, Dad,” Donna consoled him.

He laughed about it and pretended to give me a dirty look. The two caper movies playing looked like fun, but I just wasn’t in the mood for wise-cracking thieves. “I guess I better get used to it,” Dad conceded.

“You’ve always been outnumbered,” Mom told him.

“I know, but sometimes it used to be close,” he commented.

“Get dressed in something really comfortable, kids,” Mom ordered. “Linda’s not the only one who falls asleep in movies.”

Donna wrinkled her nose and held one hand up so she could pretend that I couldn’t see her pointing at me with the other one. I just rolled my eyes. One time, a year or so before, we both fell asleep watching some Disney movie we had seen before, so it wasn’t all one way.

It wasn’t until I was in my room that I thought to wonder about what Dad said.

Donna appeared at my door while I was trying to decide if I had anything more comfortable than I was already wearing. She looked at me as if waiting for permission to come in.

“What?” I asked.

“Umm,” she said, hesitating. “We’re going to Springdale Motor-Vu, right? That’s right here, you know?”

I began to get an inkling of what she might mean, so I frowned at her.

She came right out and said it. “You want to go as Joni, so if we meet anyone we know, they won’t recognize you.”

I glanced down at my chest and put a hand to my hair. “It’s not really a disguise, but I don’t think anyone is going to recognize me as Johnny.” What was she thinking?

“You’re still wearing the same face,” she said, direct as always. “I think you should let me put a little makeup on you.”

“No,” I said firmly. “Let me rephrase that. Hell, no.”

“Joni!” Mom’s voice came from the hallway. I hadn’t known she was there. “What are you thinking, Donna?”

“Well,” said my sneaky sister, “girls our age almost never go out in public without a bit of makeup. Not around here, anyway.”

“I’m from Iowa.” I put in quickly.

They both looked at me.

“I’m just a visiting relative and fifteen-year-old girls do not wear makeup in Iowa,” I said.

That made Mom laugh. “How would you know? You’ve never been to Iowa.”

“I bet no one we’re likely to meet has either,” I pointed out.

“Let’s go to the concessions before it gets completely dark,” Donna suggested after Dad had parked the Momwagon at the drive-in.

“Maybe I don’t want to go to concessions until it’s dark,” I objected.

Donna made a face. “No one is going to recognize you, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” she offered. “I’ll say you’re my cousin from Orange County if we meet anyone we know.”

While we were discussing this, Linda did an end run around us. “Daddy,” she asked our father in her sweetest voice, “can I have some money for kongcinamanations?” Dad, of course, forked over some cash.

“I can’t go just by myself,” Donna countered my objections to going at all. “I’ll need help carrying stuff back.”

“Okay, okay,” I gave in.

“Let’s go!” shouted Linda, squirming across Mom’s lap to exit her privileged position in the front seat.

“What makes you think you’re going, Squidgy?” Donna asked her.

Linda played her trump card. “‘Cause I gots the money!”

#

We followed our conniving little sister toward the orange building in the middle of the big parking area, laughing a little at being outplayed by a kindergartener. It wasn’t that unusual, to be honest; Linda had learned how to manipulate grownups before she stopped talking around her fooler.

Half of the building served as a concession stand, while the other half held projection equipment and supplies. You would get yelled at if you walked through the beams pointed at the screen on that side, but there were already lines at the windows on the other side. It was partly enclosed to keep the weather off if it sprinkled. They’d close the theater if it rained hard.

Three lines snaked out from under the awning. One line was for orders like hot dogs, hamburgers and pizza. The other two were just for candy, popcorn and drinks, which was all we wanted, so Donna and I each staked out a spot in one of the faster-moving lines. This confused Linda.

“We only gots one money,” she pointed out.

“Is this your little sister?” someone in the slow lane asked Donna. “She’s too cute!”

I looked in that direction, then turned away. Annalisa Fremont, a cheerleader-type from our school, had asked the question. She was in line with Rod Pick, and I didn’t want him to see me.

From the corner of my eye, I could see him past Donna and Linda in the middle lane. Annalisa must be his date. I didn’t think I’d ever liked her.

But Rod was looking right at me. I tried not to meet his gaze, but he seemed distracted anyway. It took a moment for me to realize I was standing in profile to him, and he was looking at my chest.

So, he probably isn’t going to recognize me, I decided, and that ought to have made me feel better, but it didn’t. Something seemed stuck in my throat, and I wasn’t hungry for popcorn or red vines anymore.

“Who’s the redhead?” I heard him ask Donna. “Is she with you? You’re dressed alike.”

But it was Linda who answered. “That’s our other sister, Joni!” she squealed, and for icing on the cake, she pointed at me.

Chapter 22.1 - preview on Patreon