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“And a bunch of cheesy romance movies told you this?” Scarlett asked.
I nodded, totally serious, as I said, “Ella wants a movie-worthy moment, so that’s exactly what I’m going to give her.She’s All That, Pretty in Pink, Clueless, Grease, Can’t Buy Me Love, Mean Girls.What do all of them have in common?”
Scarlett frowned. “I see where you’re going with this, but I still don’t like it. Thorne would tell you to be yourself.”
“Right, and I will. The thing is, I probably would’ve done this before now if I’d had a clue how to dress or what would make me look good. I’m not changing who I am. I’ll still be the same kid that would rather spend time staring at the stars through my telescope than drinking beer at a party. I’ll still be me. Just . . .”
“Barry 2.0,” Penelope finished for me.
“Exactly! And with the whole mask and costume thing, it’ll be easier for me to be bold and confident. It’ll feel safer somehow.”
“A makeover could be fun.” Scarlett held Penelope’s gaze, and I could practically hear them having some sort of telepathic conversation before she nodded and said, “Okay, so what’s the plan?”
“I need your help for the makeover because I have zero fashion sense and no idea what girls like or what will look good on me.”
“Done.” Penelope grinned. A mischievous glint entered her eyes, and for the first time since I hatched my plan, I was nervous.
“Thorne’s already been helping me with my mental game, giving me advice and whatnot, so it’s up to me to step it up. The night of the ball is when we’ll do the big reveal and put everything into play, but until then, we could work on wardrobe. Stuff like that.”
“Ooh, I like the idea of a big reveal,” Penelope said.
“And you’ll keep your new look even after the ball?” Scarlett asked.
“As long as I don’t look like a total moron, yes.”
“Wait till Thorne finds out. He’ll want to help, too.” Scarlett reached out and removed my glasses. “Oh man, just think of the possibilities. We’ll need your prescription to order contacts, maybe some new lenses. And Thorne probably has some of the best stylists in the country to help.”
“Yes! Call him right now and fill him in,” Penelope said, and all at once, they started chattering about the possibilities while I sat back in my chair, listening as the phone rang and Thorne picked up, watching them, my chest and heart full. Only months ago, I barely had a friend to my name. And look at me now.
I smiled to myself as I stared down at the desk, knowing no matter what, they’d have my back. Which made it a whole lot easier to take a leap. Because at least I knew I had a soft place to fall.
Chapter 12
BARRY
Istoodinthemiddle of the massive outdoor shopping center, surrounded by dozens of high-end clothing stores, everything from unique boutiques to Louis Vuitton and Gucci. A sense of overwhelming dread crawled over my skin, and my feet itched to turn and run. I hated shopping. It was part of the reason I hadn’t done it in so long.
“I see that face, Barry, and you can forget it.” Scarlett placed her hands over my shoulders, forcing me to look her in the eyes.
“What face?”
“The one that looks like you’re headed to the gallows.”
I mashed my lips into a thin line, trying to hide whatever expression I had.
“There’s no turning back now. You wanted this, remember?” Penelope reminded me.
“You’re right.” I ran a hand over the back of my neck, trying to focus on the mission at hand. “So where do we start?”
“Well, first, it would help to know what kind of budget we’re dealing with,” Penelope said.
I slipped my hand into my pocket and slid out my mother’s Platinum American Express card. “I haven’t gone shopping in four years. She told me to go wild.”
“Now you’re speaking my language.” Penelope swiped it from my hand. “What kind of a limit does this thing have?” she asked, and I thought she was joking. Mostly.
“So the first thing we need to decide is what your style is going to be.” Scarlett started walking, and I followed while panic threatened to grip my chest. How was I supposed to know what style I wanted when I didn’t have a clue what my style was now?
I scratched my head. “Isn’t that what you’re here for?”
