Let Me Fix That for You by Janice Erlbaum

Author:Janice Erlbaum
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux (BYR)

19

Monday Morning

When the doorbell rings at 7:45 a.m., I am ready by the door.

“It’s for me!” I yell. “I got it!”

I told Dad that my friend Izzy is going to start coming by in the mornings to walk with me to the bus. Of course he said yes—another new friend, hallelujah! Between Sophie and Izzy, I might even have enough people for a birthday party this year. I wonder what Dad will think when he sees what I see when I open the door.

A girl I’ve never met before stands there, her chin-length hair curled and her earrings dangling. On her feet are dainty silver flats with bows on them; around her wrist is a charm bracelet. She appears to have fashioned a crude cloak out of a fleece blanket that says GO ELMHAVEN in the school colors, light blue and maroon, and she is trying very hard to cover her entire self with it.

“Hey,” Izzy says miserably.

“Hey!” I try to control my face and react normally, but it’s a little like opening the door and seeing someone dressed in a gorilla costume. “Hey, come on in, you can put your stuff down here.”

I want to rush her through the house without a long interview with my dad, who will undoubtedly embarrass me. But he’s on the phone, so he just waves from the kitchen, and Izzy waves back, clutching her cloak around her with one hand. Agnes and Mabey pop their heads out from the kitchen and say hi, then go back to their English muffins.

“Let’s go upstairs,” I suggest.

Izzy and I tromp up to my room. Her clothes are hung up neatly in my closet, and she groans with relief when she sees them. Then she lets the cloak drop, and I get a look at her in the clothes her grandma bought her, and I groan, too—in agony.

There is a blouse. It is a pink button-down with a rounded collar and an embroidered butterfly on the chest. There is a skirt. It is lavender and knee length and it puffs out like a triangle. There are pink tights that sparkle, and for me, it is these sparkling tights that officially put this outfit into the category of “cruel and unusual punishment.”

“Oh. My…”

“I know.” Izzy is already stripping off the tights and ripping out the earrings. “I can’t believe I survived the shopping trip. I have never heaved so much in my life. Not even after that hot dog–eating contest last fall. I like hot dogs.”

I turn away to play a game on my phone while she gets dressed, which takes no time at all. Within two minutes, the Izzy I know is back, standing in my bedroom.

She’s in a faded T-shirt and her most weathered jeans. Her cruddy red sneakers have replaced the flats. Her curled hair is hidden under her cap. There’s still pink polish on her nails, and she smells like a petunia in full bloom, but otherwise, she’s back to looking like herself.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhh,” she says.

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