Read Beauty for Free Online Page B

sharply, whirling around to face her desk. Kemper straightened up in her seat.
    “Of course, Mr. G,” she gushed in a pitch-perfect imitation of Ashley.
    “Good,” Mr. G said evenly. “Then why don’t you answer my next question for me.” He put his hands on his hips, making it clear he was revving up for a stumper. “What was the dispute between the Southern and Northern States that caused the start of the Civil War?” It was an unfair question—calling for an essay response, versus the one-word answers he usually solicited—but Kemper wasn’t fazed.
    As she launched into a diatribe about slavery and the taxation of cotton exports, I stole a look at Hayley. She was watching me, a wide-eyed, eager expression on her face. It was the way she used to look at me, back when she actually cared what I had to say, and I couldn’t help but smile a little at her, just a little. I glanced back down at her note. Did your mom finally talk you into a makeover!?
    Something like that , I mouthed at her.
    What did you DO? she mouthed back.
    That, of course, was the one question I couldn’t answer. I turned back around without saying anything. But as Mr. G launched into today’s lecture and people kept glancing furtively in my direction, like they were sneaking peeks at a celebrity, I started to wonder the same thing. What, exactly, had happened to me? I hadn’t done anything. In fact, I’d done absolutely nothing this morning, not even put on makeup. Yet somehow I looked like I’d stepped straight off the page of a modeling shoot.
    It reminded me of when I was younger, and my mom gave me this doll for my birthday. Transformalots, it was called. The doll came completely bare: no clothes, no hair, no face. Instead, all the extras came on the side, for you to put on yourself. You were supposed to put your doll in a frilly dress and give her flowing blonde hair and cherry-red lips and voilà, she would come alive before your very eyes. But when my mom first gave me the doll, I’d stared at it, confused. “It’s blank,” I’d said.
    “Exactly,” my mom replied. “She’s a blank slate, and you get to be the one to help her transform. From nothing at all to something beautiful. It’s kind of magical, don’t you think?” At the time, I’d just shrugged. I was in the midst of a tomboy stage, and much to my mom’s dismay, dolls and dresses just didn’t interest me.
    But finally, I got it. I reached up and touched my new face. My skin was downy soft under my finger. I felt just like that doll. Like some invisible hand had tweaked here and adjusted there until— voilà —I was transformed. And my mom was right; it felt magical.
    “So,” Kemper said at the end of class, hopping onto my desk as I stuffed my textbook and notebook into my bag. “Are we in the twilight zone today or what?”
    “More like the hot zone.” Hayley came around to the front of my desk. Instead of a backpack, she was carrying the biggest purse I’d ever seen. It was bedazzled front to back in pink crystals, every inch of it covered, and judging by the handiwork, I had a feeling she’d done it herself. “Seriously, Molly. What happened to you?”
    Kemper narrowed her eyes. “More like what happened to you , Hayley? Last night? Laughing at Molly? Ring any bells?”
    Hayley flung her bag onto her other shoulder and smirked. “It was just a joke, Kemper. Relax. Molly knows that, right?” She looked over at me expectantly.
    “Um, I guess,” I said. I didn’t really, but after everything that had happened this morning, my brain seemed to be working on fumes. And before I could think of anything else to say, Hayley cut in.
    “Oh my God. That’s what this ridiculous outfit is all about, isn’t it, Kemp?” Hayley snickered. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I looked over at Kemper’s outfit. She was wearing brown ankle boots, a fringed jean skirt with a vintage-looking leather belt, and the tucked-in T-shirt and cardigan. In spite of