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. I gaze into the soulful, tortured eyes of Jim Morrison as his various incarnations assess me from the ceiling and walls. He offers no comment.
    “It’ll be liberating, right?” I say to no one in particular. “Guys have it so easy. They don’t really worry about how they look. They just spray on a little Axe and go.”
    Chloe snorts. “Not all of them. I’ve dated guys who spend more time on their hair than I do.”
    I press on, undeterred, trying to convince myself as my shiny hair piles up on the floor. “In general, though, they’re less neurotic than we are, don’t you think? They worry less. Short hair will be my first step toward experiencing male power and freedom.”
    “Yeah,” Darcy says. “You’ll get to know what it’s like to live hairspray-free.”
    “Just don’t become a gel addict,” Chloe warns. “That’s not a good look.”
    After an interminable wait, Darcy says, “You ready for this? Step one in male-ification: makeover magic.” She spins me around on the swivel stool so I’m facing the mirror again. “Ta-dah!”
    The girl in the mirror instantly freaks me out. It’s me, but it’s not me. The glossy waves around my face are now gone. What’s left stands up from my scalp in boyish disarray. I stare, unable to speak.
    “Say something,” Darcy urges me. “Do you love it? I love it.”
    Chloe appears beside her in the mirror, her smile huge. “Nice work, Paul Mitchell! Gorgeous.”
    “I—wow—it’s really . . . short,” I finally manage.
    Chloe says, “Jeez, Nat. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I’m kind of attracted to you.”
    Darcy tousles my damp hair playfully. “God, it’s so flattering! Your eyes look enormous.”
    It’s true. With all that hair gone, there’s nothing to hide behind. My cheekbones are more pronounced, my eyes wider, my lips fuller and pinker. I’m all . . . face.
    “I’m such a genius,” Darcy muses happily. “Now if only I could get you to pierce your nose . . .”
    Darcy’s cell chirps and she reaches under her apron to fish it from the pocket of her jeans. She glances at the display before answering. “Granger? What do you got?”
    Chloe and I lock eyes in the mirror while Darcy paces around with the phone, going “uh-huh” and “right” and “okay.” It reminds me of waiting for a cast list to be posted, fidgeting helplessly as the thing I’ve been obsessing over is about to be unveiled.
    Darcy finally presses a button and puts her phone back in her pocket. I swivel around to face her; Chloe and I both stare at her expectantly. For a terrifying moment her expression is so serious I know it didn’t work and we’ve just mutilated my hair for no reason.
    Then she breaks into a glorious smile. “He did it! You’re in.”
    Chloe squeals.
    “Really?” My heart’s racing. “How? What did he do?”
    She holds up her hands. “The kid’s a little Einstein, man. I don’t ask for details. All I know is your name’s Nat Rodgers and they should be expecting you in the Admissions office Monday morning.”
    It’s really happening. We’re actually doing this. I feel sick and amazed and thrilled all at once. Operation Babe in Boyland is officially launched.

Chapter Five
    S unday morning we drive to Corte Madera to shop for my disguise. Luckily, Underwood has a uniform, so I just need one basic guy outfit to get me through the door. I’ve been practicing speaking in a low, manly voice, using my breath the way our drama teacher taught me back when I played Portia’s cross-dressing scene. In the car on the way to the mall Chloe and Darcy agree it’s a passably convincing register for Nat.
    “No matter what, though, you can’t slip into your normal girl voice,” Darcy warns. “You’ve got to keep it guy-like all the time.”
    Chloe puts on her blinker and steers her Honda toward the mall. “Maybe Nat should be shy. If you don’t say much, you’re less likely to get caught.”
    “Yeah, but then will I really