and Lisa had both had the opportunity to witness Mrs. Lake’s frequent lectures to Stevie about looking after her clothes, which often included a reminder about where the iron was kept in the house. It wasn’t a fact that had ever appeared to have sunk in. Except today. Stevie looked almost crisp.
“You okay?” Carole asked, genuinely concerned by the transformation in her friend.
“Sure, why would you ask that?”
“Well, the—”
“What about your
hair
?” Lisa asked, noticing for the first time that Stevie’s normally straight dirty blond hair was now a mass of curls.
“I borrowed my mother’s curling iron. Isn’t it cool?”
“Yeah, your hair …,” Carole added, still absorbing the changes.
“It only took about half an hour once the hair wasdry,” Stevie said. “I guess I’m going to have to get up a little earlier in the morning, but it’s definitely worth it.”
Up early? Stevie’s usual idea of being up early was being out of bed five minutes before it was time to leave the house. She was often seen running down the street still combing her hair or pulling a sweater over her head.
“I guess I just sort of got tired of the way I was looking,” Stevie said. “There’s nothing wrong with a change every now and then, right?”
“Nothing wrong with a change,” Lisa agreed. But this was more than a change. This was an entire taste transplant, and it didn’t seem like Stevie.
The final touch was when Stevie invited her friends up to her room, one of their favorite places to gather. She opened the door to a spotlessly clean room, then turned to Lisa and Carole.
“Y’all come in now?”
I T WASN ’ T THAT it hadn’t been a fun time with her friends, Stevie thought, but sometimes it was just nice to be alone. Carole and Lisa had both had to leave very early that Sunday morning. Lisa, of course, had homework to do. She always had homework to do. Lisa could find homework to do even over summer vacation.
Carole was spending the morning with her father. That was one of the really nice things about Carole and her dad. Not only were they father and daughter, but they really liked being father and daughter and spending time together. That day, Carole had said, her father wanted to take her to a nearby Civil War battlefield. Carole had promised Lisa she’d bring her any material they had about horses in the battle.
Stevie had nothing to do. She had no homework—or at least she only had homework she could more or less ignore. Her parents were going antiquing and then having lunch with a classmate of her father’s from law school. The Lake children had been invited to come along, but none of them really liked this man. In fact, Stevie wasn’t convinced her father liked him much, either, but that was what they were doing with their Sunday.
It was only seven o’clock. Stevie’s brothers were still asleep. Stevie was essentially alone. She’d finished breakfast and her friends had helped her clean up before they left. She was going riding, but not until late morning. She had time for whatever she wanted.
It was high time she did some laundry. Mr. and Mrs. Lake expected their children to wash their own clothes. They could get help with tough stuff like ironing or washing on the delicate cycle, but they were essentially in charge. For Stevie that generally meant a monthly project. When the stack of dirty clothes in her closet became taller than she was, she’d bite the bullet and get the job done.
She went back up to her room, made the bed, tidied up the bathroom, folded the towels she and her friends had used, and put them back on the rack. Then she turned her attention to her closet.
When she opened the door, she was nearly bowledover by dirty clothes tumbling out of the overstuffed space. She stood back and let the clothes fall where they would. Then she shook her head in dismay, disappointed in herself for letting the situation get so bad.
“Dirty clothes don’t make a good
“You okay?” Carole asked, genuinely concerned by the transformation in her friend.
“Sure, why would you ask that?”
“Well, the—”
“What about your
hair
?” Lisa asked, noticing for the first time that Stevie’s normally straight dirty blond hair was now a mass of curls.
“I borrowed my mother’s curling iron. Isn’t it cool?”
“Yeah, your hair …,” Carole added, still absorbing the changes.
“It only took about half an hour once the hair wasdry,” Stevie said. “I guess I’m going to have to get up a little earlier in the morning, but it’s definitely worth it.”
Up early? Stevie’s usual idea of being up early was being out of bed five minutes before it was time to leave the house. She was often seen running down the street still combing her hair or pulling a sweater over her head.
“I guess I just sort of got tired of the way I was looking,” Stevie said. “There’s nothing wrong with a change every now and then, right?”
“Nothing wrong with a change,” Lisa agreed. But this was more than a change. This was an entire taste transplant, and it didn’t seem like Stevie.
The final touch was when Stevie invited her friends up to her room, one of their favorite places to gather. She opened the door to a spotlessly clean room, then turned to Lisa and Carole.
“Y’all come in now?”
I T WASN ’ T THAT it hadn’t been a fun time with her friends, Stevie thought, but sometimes it was just nice to be alone. Carole and Lisa had both had to leave very early that Sunday morning. Lisa, of course, had homework to do. She always had homework to do. Lisa could find homework to do even over summer vacation.
Carole was spending the morning with her father. That was one of the really nice things about Carole and her dad. Not only were they father and daughter, but they really liked being father and daughter and spending time together. That day, Carole had said, her father wanted to take her to a nearby Civil War battlefield. Carole had promised Lisa she’d bring her any material they had about horses in the battle.
Stevie had nothing to do. She had no homework—or at least she only had homework she could more or less ignore. Her parents were going antiquing and then having lunch with a classmate of her father’s from law school. The Lake children had been invited to come along, but none of them really liked this man. In fact, Stevie wasn’t convinced her father liked him much, either, but that was what they were doing with their Sunday.
It was only seven o’clock. Stevie’s brothers were still asleep. Stevie was essentially alone. She’d finished breakfast and her friends had helped her clean up before they left. She was going riding, but not until late morning. She had time for whatever she wanted.
It was high time she did some laundry. Mr. and Mrs. Lake expected their children to wash their own clothes. They could get help with tough stuff like ironing or washing on the delicate cycle, but they were essentially in charge. For Stevie that generally meant a monthly project. When the stack of dirty clothes in her closet became taller than she was, she’d bite the bullet and get the job done.
She went back up to her room, made the bed, tidied up the bathroom, folded the towels she and her friends had used, and put them back on the rack. Then she turned her attention to her closet.
When she opened the door, she was nearly bowledover by dirty clothes tumbling out of the overstuffed space. She stood back and let the clothes fall where they would. Then she shook her head in dismay, disappointed in herself for letting the situation get so bad.
“Dirty clothes don’t make a good
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