Dating Games #1 Read online

  Emma tried to at least appear to be listening, but all she could think about was that she was going to look like a boy when Amy finished. Flat chest and short hair—what a combination. She might as well kiss the DG good-bye too, because why would Isaac want to go out with a girl who looked like a boy?

  A couple hours later, Amy announced that she was finished. “Let’s go in the bathroom so you can see yourself.” She reached for Emma’s hand. “Come on, sweetheart.”

  Reluctantly, Emma let Amy lead her to the bathroom, and after the lights were turned on, she braced herself to look into the mirror. In surprise, she reached up to touch the feathered layers of shimmering golden hair that framed her face. She looked completely different. Like someone else—and even slightly glamorous.

  “You’re gorgeous,” Amy proclaimed.

  Emma leaned forward, peering more closely. “I don’t look like me.”

  “You look like a new and improved you,” Amy said. “See how those highlights make your eyes sparkle? And that wispy cut is perfect for your heart-shaped face. You look absolutely adorable, Emma.”

  Emma turned and looked at Amy now. With her flushed cheeks and her dark hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, she looked slightly tired. “Thank you so much!” Emma hugged her. “I know that Devon is watching your kids so that you could do this for me, but I want to offer to babysit for you myself, as my own personal thank-you. You just name the time and day and I’ll be here.”

  Amy blinked, then nodded eagerly. “That’s an offer I won’t refuse.”

  Just then Devon and the kids returned, and the house got noisy and crazy, with everyone crowding into the bathroom to see Emma’s new haircut.

  “It’s so perfect.” Devon ran her fingers through Emma’s short hair. “You look like a fairy princess.” She turned to Amy. “Nice work!”

  Emma thanked Amy again as Devon insisted it was time to go home and continue with their makeover. This time Emma made no protests. Oh, she had no illusions. Even if Devon worked more magic with facials and makeup, there was nothing she could do about Emma’s boyish figure. As Devon drove them back to her house, Emma got quiet. She knew that curvy figures were what usually caught the attention of high school boys.

  “Do you honestly think this makeover will make any difference with Isaac?” Emma started feeling hopeless again as they went into Devon’s house. It was one thing to change her hair, but as she looked down at her usual uniform of old jeans, a T-shirt, and Converse tennis shoes, she wondered how they could ever transform her into anything even slightly eye-catching.

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Look at me.” Emma paused at the foot of the stairs, waving her hand down her torso. “I’m not exactly a femme fatale, if you know what I mean.”

  Devon laughed, slapping Emma on the back. “That’s what I love about you, Em. So down to earth. Anyway, we’re not done with you yet.”

  “But what if it’s all for nothing?”

  “Don’t worry,” Devon assured her. “Getting Isaac’s attention isn’t dependent on this makeover alone. I think it’ll be a pretty good start, but I plan to work on him too.”

  Emma blinked. “You’re going to work on Isaac?”

  “Don’t worry.” Devon led the way into her room. “I will work very gently. So gently he won’t even know what hit him.”

  Emma felt nervous now. Devon was a fun girl, but she was not known for being gentle or subtle. If anything, Devon was outspoken and risky. What if she messed this up for Emma? After all, Isaac was an intelligent guy. What if he saw right through Devon’s matchmaking tactics? For that matter, what if he saw through Emma too?

  5

  Bryn was somewhat surprised to see that the call coming in on her cell was from Devon Fremont. It wasn’t like Devon didn’t know her number, but until yesterday’s idea for the Dating Games, Bryn had never had much of a conversation with her. And despite what seemed like Devon’s recent attempt to take over their little clique, Bryn still thought of Devon as the “new girl” and was slightly suspicious. At the same time, though, Bryn was curious. “Hey, Devon, what’s up?”

  “I need your help,” Devon told her. “With a little project.” She giggled like this was a joke.

  “What kind of project?” Bryn pushed her computer aside. She was supposed to be working on a research paper but had gotten distracted by some impromptu online shoe shopping instead. Bryn wished she hadn’t become such a slave to fashion this past year, but sometimes she just couldn’t help herself.

  “Well, I’m giving Emma a makeover, and—”

  “A makeover?” Bryn shut her laptop. “For Emma?”

  “Yeah, you should see her.”

  “That sounds like fun.”

  “So far it’s going pretty good too. I mean, the hair and the makeup is a huge improvement. But to be honest, I’m kind of stuck when it comes to clothes.” Devon let out a frustrated sigh. “We’re on a pretty tight budget, and nothing in my closet is even close to working for her, and—”

  “You need my help,” Bryn filled in.

  “Well, you always seem really fashionable. And Emma was just saying how she likes your style.”

  “Better than yours.” Emma’s voice came from the background.

  “See, this is the thanks I get,” Devon said. “Emma doesn’t like any of the clothes I’ve been trying on her.”

  “They’re too flashy for me,” Emma called out in a pleading tone. “I’m not like that.”

  “Anyway, I thought you might have some ideas.”

  Bryn was already standing in front of her own closet. As usual, it was packed so full that it looked like it was about to explode. “Well, Emma’s a little smaller than me,” Bryn mused as she pulled out a Gap blouse that was too tight across the bust. “Especially in certain places.” Bryn held the shirt up to herself and sighed. It had been so cute back when it fit properly. “I might have a thing or two that would work for her.” Bryn tossed the shirt onto her bed. “That is, if you’re serious. Emma isn’t exactly a fashionista, if you know what I mean.”

  “She’s changing her frumpy ways,” Devon assured her. “You should see her now. Besides, if the DG is going to succeed, we need all the members to look hot. Remember?”

  “That’s true.” Bryn surveyed her own image in the mirror on her closet door. Standing straighter, she flipped a section of long, blonde hair over a shoulder. It hadn’t been that long since she’d felt like the ugly duckling. But the horrid braces had come off last year, her skin had cleared up last spring, and not long after she started working out every day, her figure had improved. It was only this past summer, for the first time since about fifth grade, that she actually began to feel pretty good about herself. Even though she hadn’t been asked out yet, she could tell that some of the guys were noticing her this year. And if the DG worked, it should be only a matter of time before she was dating.

  “Do you want to help us or not?” Devon asked.

  Bryn reached for another shirt and then a sweater. “Sure. My closet is overdue for a thinning anyway. You guys want to come over here or what?”

  After a brief discussion, it was agreed they’d come to her house. In the meantime, Bryn decided to start piling up any pieces that were too small for her. By the time Devon and Emma arrived, the mound on her bed was cascading onto the floor.

  “Emma!” Bryn walked around Emma, checking out her new hairstyle. “You look fabulous.” She touched the feathered layers of hair. “Very chic.”

  Emma’s fine brows arched. “You think so?”

  “Yes.” Bryn nodded. Then she grimly shook her head. “Well, almost.” She pointed to Emma’s old blue sweatshirt and dumpy jeans. “From the neck down, we still have our work cut out for us.”

  “Which is why we’re here,” Devon reminded her.

  Bryn pointed to the messy mound on her bed. “Have at it,” she told Emma. “Everything there has got to go anyway.”

  “Seriously?” Emma’s blue eyes got big.
r />   “Absolutely.” Bryn studied Emma more closely now. “It’s amazing, Emma. You really do look different.”

  “Different good or different bad?” Emma frowned.

  “Different as in fabulous. Like I said. But I have to admit there’s something I’m not sure about.” Bryn scrutinized Emma’s face. The lip gloss seemed a little dark and the eye shadow a little intense. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with that much makeup before. I’m not sure . . .”

  Emma’s hand went up to her cheek. “Is it too much, do you think?”

  “Hey, wait a minute,” Devon said. “I think she looks fine. Hot, even.”

  Bryn twisted her mouth to one side. “I’m not sure. I think it looks like she’s trying too hard. She’s got soft looks. Why not play those up?”

  “See.” Emma pointed at Devon. “I told you it was too much.”

  “You’re just not used to it,” Devon argued.

  “I don’t know.” Bryn frowned. “To be perfectly honest, I think we should try to soften it up a little . . . you know, a more natural look.”

  Devon looked dubious, or else, more likely, she was offended, although Bryn had been trying to be as tactful as possible. Why was Devon so territorial when it came to Emma? Didn’t she want her to look her best?

  “I mean, you did a great job with her,” Bryn reassured Devon. “Maybe you were doing her up the way you do your own makeup. With your auburn hair and striking coloring, it works. You can totally pull off those stronger colors. But Emma’s a blonde . . . and not so dramatic. To be honest, I think she needs a more natural look.”

  Emma nodded eagerly. “I do. I do.”

  Devon seemed to consider this and finally just shrugged. “Yeah, you might be right.”

  “Anyway, let’s look at the clothes for now,” Bryn told them. “Start going through the pile and see if there’s anything you can use. Try them on if you want.”

  But when Emma peeled off her sweatshirt and T-shirt to try on a Banana Republic sweater, Bryn couldn’t help but laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” Emma asked defensively.

  Bryn pointed to her bra. “That!”

  Emma looked down at her chest and frowned.

  “Sorry,” Bryn told her. “It’s just that’s such a pathetic excuse for a bra. Why are you wearing that?”

  Emma grabbed her sweatshirt and held it up like a shield, trying to hide the plain white sports bra. “My mom got these for me,” she said meekly. “They were for volleyball, but they’re actually pretty comfortable, and the straps don’t slip around. I, uh, I have a bunch of them.”

  “Well, you should toss all of them,” Bryn said abruptly. “Or else just use them for volleyball—and only if you don’t care what you look like.”

  Emma scowled.

  “Those bras make you look flatter than a pancake,” Bryn explained. “Seriously, Emma. You need to go bra shopping. Without your mom.”

  Emma looked totally humiliated as she pulled her shirt back on.

  “I’m sorry,” Bryn said quickly. “Me and my big mouth.”

  “But Bryn’s right,” Devon told Emma. “That hideous bra is worse than useless.”

  Emma looked up with angry eyes. “What difference does it make what kind of bra I wear?” she demanded. “I don’t even need a bra. Sure, it’s easy for you to make fun of me, but you have no idea what it feels like to be—”

  “Hey, it wasn’t that long ago that I looked exactly like you,” Bryn told her. She got an idea. “I’ll bet I have some bras that will fit you too.” She hurried over to her dresser and pulled open her underwear drawer, pawing through it and digging deep until she found several double-A bras in various colors. “Here we go.” She thrust them toward Emma. “That pink is from Victoria’s Secret too.”

  “They’re pretty,” Emma admitted. “But they won’t fit me.”

  “Just try them,” Bryn urged.

  Emma shook her head stubbornly. “It’s pointless.”

  “Come on,” Bryn encouraged her. “You can at least try.”

  “That’s right,” Devon said. “Go to the bathroom if you need the privacy, Emma. But at least try on the bras before you write them off.”

  Emma reluctantly took the bras, and after the bathroom door closed, Devon started giggling.

  “It’s not really funny,” Bryn told her. “I mean, I remember feeling just like Emma does.”

  “But look at you,” Devon said. “You’re gorgeous.”

  While Emma tried on the bras, Bryn told Devon about how she used to look. To prove her point, she opened her laptop and pulled up some photos from the past couple of years.

  “Oh, wow.” Devon looked genuinely shocked. “I thought you were just born beautiful.”

  Bryn laughed. “My dad would be happy to tell you how much the braces cost. And that’s just part of it.”

  “Well, it’s nice that you’re willing to help Emma like this. And don’t forget that helping Emma is like helping the DG.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Bryn had nearly forgotten the DG.

  “By the way, have you had any luck with Harris?”

  Bryn bit her lip. She’d also forgotten her promise to work on Harris for Devon. “Not yet,” she assured her. “But it’s barely been a day since we started the club. You can’t expect something like this to happen overnight.” Of course, now Bryn realized that she might’ve run into Harris at youth group tonight if she’d gone. He wasn’t always there, but sometimes. She was about to ask Devon if she’d ever be interested in going with her, but now Emma was back.

  She still had on her T-shirt, but it was obvious by the shape of it that she was wearing one of Bryn’s old bras underneath.

  “Look at you,” Bryn told her.

  “They fit!” she exclaimed happily. “I mean, they actually fit—as in I’m filling them up. It’s not just air.” She held her chest out, strutting around the room. “Look at me.” She laughed. “I have real boobs.”

  “You just needed a real bra to go with them,” Devon told her.

  “Now you can try on some of these clothes,” Bryn said.

  It was unexpectedly fun seeing Emma trying on Bryn’s old clothes. Emma was thrilled each time something fit or looked exceptionally good. Who knew anyone could be so jazzed to be given castoffs? Bryn wondered why she hadn’t done something like this a long time ago. It was almost as good as shopping.

  “You really, truly don’t want these?” Emma asked Bryn for the umpteenth time as she hugged a bunch of clothes to her. “Honest to goodness?”

  “Like I said, they’re too small now,” Bryn told her. “Some of those tops are from my freshman year. I mean, they’re still cute and everything. They just don’t fit right. They’re all yours.” Bryn went over to her closet, waving her hand like a game show host. “Now I have room in here for what actually fits.”

  “And room to buy more clothes,” Devon teased.

  Bryn gave them a sheepish grin. “My dad says I need a twelve-step program for shopaholics. But really, it’s my only true vice.”

  By the time they had all of Emma’s “new” clothes bagged up, it was nearly 8:00. “You guys could spend the night here if you want,” Bryn offered hopefully. The idea had just occurred to her, but it sounded like fun.

  “Thanks, but we still have some makeover stuff to work on at my house,” Devon explained.

  Bryn nodded. “Oh, yeah, sure.” She wished they’d invite her to go home with them, but she wasn’t going to be lame and hint. “I’ve got homework to finish anyway.”

  “Thanks for your help.” Devon picked up one of the bulging shopping bags.

  “Yeah, thanks for everything!” Emma smiled happily. “I feel like I just won the clothes lottery.”

  “Hey, you helped me clean out my closet.” Bryn picked up a T-shirt that had fallen out of Emma’s bag and stuffed it back in. As she walked them to the front door, she wished there was a way to prolong their visit, but she knew it was too late. They were going. She stood by the window,
watching as they got into the car and pulled out.

  Bryn closed the blinds and sighed. She felt inexplicably lonely now. It was probably her fault since she had chosen not to go to youth group. That was because Abby was away with her family, and Bryn didn’t like going alone. As usual for a Saturday night, her parents were at their small group meeting. The big house felt quiet and empty.

  As she walked to her room, she thought about how it used to be. All the years she was growing up, her four older siblings had filled this place with noise and chaos and friends and constant activity. She had taken it for granted then. In fact, she sometimes had complained about it. But now that they were gone, either at college or jobs or just living their own lives, it was way too quiet . . . and sometimes it was a little depressing.

  She thought about calling her best friend, except that she knew Abby was at a family wedding, probably at the reception by now. Even so, Bryn texted her to say she missed her but hoped she was having fun. Then she told her that Emma and Devon had been by, making it sound like more than it was. That was probably just loneliness talking. But Abby would understand.

  Bryn opened her computer, but instead of doing homework, she went back to shoe shopping. As she was imagining how she’d look in a pair of leopard print Louboutins, she thought about Devon’s question regarding Harris. She clicked over to Facebook to check out Harris’s page.

  No one knew about it—well, except maybe Abby, if she even remembered—but Bryn used to have a crush on Harris Martin. For years while she was nothing more than a youth group wallflower, she had watched Harris, wishing he’d suddenly look at her and see beyond her plain Jane exterior. Of course, it never happened.

  At the beginning of this school year, though, thanks to her new and improved appearance, she had felt more hopeful than ever. However, she’d been caught off guard when Devon announced that she planned to pursue Harris for herself. Bryn had considered arguing her own case with Devon but decided not to. Harris might not be interested in Devon anyway. Besides that, Harris’s best friend, Jason Levine, had been unexpectedly friendly to Bryn recently.