Read Making Pretty for Free Online

relationship advice from my divorced-four-times father isn’t wise.
    â€œYou should do the pink hair too,” I say. I don’t know why thatcomes out, except I’m so hyperaware of my new look that I’m having trouble thinking of anything else to talk about.
    I want him to know I can talk about other things: favorite street performers in Washington Square Park, least favorite books from school this year, whether beer tastes like urine or like wheat, what kind of music the band on his T-shirt plays and if he prefers to listen to them on his headphones when he’s walking around the Village or if he’d rather blast them on speakers at home. But all I can talk about is the shade of pink now adorning my head.
    â€œYou think I could pull it off?” Bernardo says. He reaches for my hair, picks a clump up, and puts it against his face like we’re going to really check and see how he’d look with pink hair. Almost pink.
    â€œAre you too scared?” I say. Roxanne giggles. She and Arizona are staying quiet but focused. Bernardo’s friends watch us from their bench. Someone near the fountain is playing terrible accordion. Bernardo gives me a long look.
    â€œI’m scared, but also awesome,” he says. I can feel Arizona rolling her eyes next to me. It doesn’t matter that I can’t see her. She’s my sister; I know what sentences she’ll love and which ones she’ll hate. I know her opinions before she tells them to me. That hasn’t changed.
    She’s gone from finding him sweet to finding him lame. I can feel it. She has her Stepmothers Look on her face. Judge-y and sure. I’d bet money on it.
    â€œI don’t know what scared but awesome means,” I say.
    â€œIt means let’s do it. Let’s dye my hair pink.” He winks but doesn’t smile. The accordion player is attempting a version of “HappyBirthday” to no one and Arizona is shaking her head no, no, no . I think he might be serious.
    â€œRight now?” I say.
    â€œOh my God yes right now yes!” Roxanne says, a flurry of words and breathiness. She rushes forward like a puppy let off leash at last.
    â€œYou don’t have to do this. I was pretty much joking.” I’m shy around him, even though the guy has been watching me all spring and is now willing to dye his hair for me. I don’t know him; he’s still a stranger and a cute boy, and now that he’s seen fun Roxanne and Arizona’s new body, I don’t know why he likes me.
    â€œIt seems like you might be worth it,” he says.
    I laugh. More or less. It’s mostly a snorting cough of embarrassment and surprise, but I’m smiling, so it vaguely resembles a laugh. He has an accent I can’t quite place except that I assume it means he’s lived in New York his whole life and probably has a parent or two who speaks Spanish.
    Bernardo sort of salutes his friends across the path and shakes hands with Arizona and Roxanne. They introduce themselves, and he raises his eyebrows at Arizona’s name.
    â€œArizona and Montana,” he says. “This a joke?”
    â€œSisters,” I say. I touch Arizona’s elbow on the word and want to exchange a smile with her, give one of those we-love-being-sisters looks, but she’s not having it. She is too busy wrinkling her nose and adjusting the straps of her tank top and probably planning her escape route.
    â€œOur mom was a hippie. So our dad was briefly a hippie too. He’slike that,” Arizona says. For someone who doesn’t want to talk, she’s saying way too much.
    â€œAnd now?” Bernardo says, which is sort of the million-dollar question, to be honest.
    â€œOur dad sort of dates a lot. And sort of changes a lot when he dates. But he’s a good guy,” I say. There’s a break in conversation where I’m supposed to say what’s up with my mom too, but I don’t.
    â€œWe