Read Online Alexis and the Perfect Recipe by Coco Simon - Free Book Online Page B

around! I started to finish entering the new data and notes on some new techniques, like hair-flipping, arm-grabbing, and lunch-inviting—not that any of them were my style.
    I chewed on my pen cap as I asked myself the question Dylan had just asked. What did I want? What was my goal with Matt? Was it that I wanted him to just notice me? He already had. But wanting him to like me back seemed major, and maybe too big of a goal. Like more than I really wanted. I think.
    My parents always tell us, when we have a big project due, to break it into smaller, more manageable chunks or goals. So if my big project is for Matt to fall madly in like with me, what would a smaller chunk be?
    Chew, chew, chew. I looked at my pen cap. It was totally mangled. I twirled it around, and itlooked like it was dancing. And then the answer came to me.
    A dance. One wonderful, dreamy dance with Matt. Then he’d see how graceful and talented I was, and I’d have the chance to really charm him.
    I smiled just picturing it, like a scene out of a Disney movie: Cinderella , Beauty and the Beast , Enchanted . One dance with the prince, and the rest is history. That was my goal.
    Relieved to now have an actual goal, I put the notebook away, then did a huge e-blast to all of the Cupcake Club’s previous clients, advertising our new flavors (s’mores being one of them), wrote out forty vocabulary flash cards, did a math crossword puzzle, reorganized my planner, and cleaned up my room.
    Later that night, when I went to brush my teeth, I nearly tripped over a pile of teen magazines that Dylan had left outside my door. “Get Him to Notice YOU!,” “7 Days to a Brand-New You!,” “Flirty Tips & Tricks to Wow Him!” the headlines screamed. Well, I certainly had my work cut out for me.

    The next morning Dylan gave me a crash course in flirtation and a real makeover. I think even myparents were happy that we were doing something together and not bickering. It was like when we were little and we used to play Barbie dolls together for hours. My Barbie would run the clothing store and Dylan’s Barbie would come in to shop. My Barbie would bargain and haggle and put stuff on sale, and her Barbie would try everything on and leave it in a pile on the dressing room floor.
    First Dylan and I looked through the magazines together to find a good new look for me. She talked about what I had heard her discussing with Meredith and Skylar, about pretty colors (no black, gray, or brown), touchable fabrics (fuzzy, floaty, silky, smooth), and patterns (floral is good; plaid, not so much). She went through my closet and also brought out some of her own(!) clothes to put together five new school outfits for me—complete with shoes and accessories!
    I have to say, she was really getting into it, and she was being a big help. I think she liked that I was agreeing with everything she said.
    Next Dylan made me shave my legs, which was gross and hard and took forever (I cut myself twice), but the result was pretty dramatic. She gave me a mud mask for my face and a quick manicure/pedicure (just clear nail polish because, she saidknowledgably, boys don’t like colored or fussy nails). Then she had me wash my hair and deep condition it, and she set it in hot rollers we borrowed from our mother. They were heavy and felt like they were pulling out my hair, but when she took them out, my hair fell in soft waves, like a Disney princess!
    Finally she taught me how to put on makeup. “The point,” explained Dylan, “is that no one should notice you are wearing makeup. You should look like yourself, only better.”
    Dylan gave me a tiny hint of pink blush to perk up my face and make me look healthy. (According to Dylan, boys respond to healthy looks. It has to do with the evolution of the species.) Then she gave me a cinnamon-and-ginger-laced pale pink lipstick with what she called “blue undertones” to make my lips