Bombshells by T. Elliott Brown Page A

She tugs on my skirt to make me stop. Looking up at me with big, scared eyes she says, “I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do.”
    “Don’t be scared.” I lean over and hug her. “You’ll like first grade. You’ll make new friends, and I bet you have a nice teacher.”
    “But I don’t know what to do without you to show me.” Birdie looks like she’s about to cry. “You always show me what to do.”
    Boy, does that surprise me. I never realized Birdie paid any attention to me at all. But I guess she does. Suddenly I feel older, and even responsible for how she behaves today. I stand up straight and adjust my notebook and purse on my hip. With my other hand, I give Birdie’s hand a squeeze. “Here’s the secret, Birdie. Just keep still and quiet, and do what the teacher says to do.”
    “Okay. I’ll try to be good like you. Bye.”
    At least I don’t have to face the first day of school alone, like Birdie. At seven forty-five, I knock on Stephanie’s door.
    “Hi, Mel.” Cherie, Stephanie’s sister, opens the door and stuffs her hands into the pockets of her pink chenille bathrobe. She yells for Stephanie, then looks at me as she cocks her head to the side, making the rollers in her blonde hair click against each other. “Nice hair-do.” She sniffs. “Toni?”
    I wait just inside the doorway, wondering how bad my hair really smells. I tug one of the curls under my nose. I can’t smell it, but then, my nose might be numb after last night.
    Mr. and Mrs. Starr sit at the breakfast table. They both have newspapers open and coffee mugs with the Navy insignia on them held in mid-air. Mr. Starr wears his khaki uniform, and his hat sits on the table beside the ashtray, where twin curls of smoke drift upward.
    “Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Starr,” I say.
    Mr. Starr grunts back at me. Stephanie’s mom swivels around and the red leatherette chair squeaks. “Hi, Mellie. Excited about your first day? Where is Stephanie? Stephanie! You’re going to be late!”
    “I’m going, Mom. Don’t blow a fuse.” Steph grabs my arm and steers me out the door. She’s wearing a new white blouse, a full blue skirt over a stiff crinoline, and a wide, black patent belt at her waist. She looks like a picture in a magazine.
    I tug on my blouse. It’s a little big across my breasts, and I can see the little pink rose on my bra when I look down at the neckline. Suddenly I feel like the emperor with the new clothes when he realizes he’s been tricked. But I do have new loafers with shiny pennies in the slots. Maybe those pennies will bring me good luck.
    “What’s that smell?” Steph sniffs and curls her upper lip. “That tom cat must have been hanging around last night. Pee-yoo.”
    The Toni home permanent. Thanks a lot, Mama. Gosh, I hope I don’t smell like this all day. Steph hasn’t even noticed my new hairstyle. I must look like my old, plain self. All that trouble and stink for nothing. I speed up a little and pray she won’t get another good whiff of my hair.
    “Come on,” I say. “We don’t want to be late.”
    The bus rolls to a screeching stop at the corner just as we get there. The other kids had already lined up, so we’re the last ones on.
    Steph pokes me in the back with her finger, prodding me to hurry down the aisle. “Last seat, Mellie.”
    The driver hits the gas just as I slide onto the seat. My head bumps against the back window. “Wow, a thrill ride every morning. Just like being at the Grand Prix.”
    Stephanie takes out a lipstick along with an empty powder compact. “Cherie’s. Nice to have a make-up counter in the bathroom.” With a sly grin, she carefully fills in her lips, smacks them together, and then offers the lipstick to me.
    I shake my head. “I don’t like the way that pasty stuff feels on my mouth. Did Cherie say you could have that lipstick?”
    “Well, she didn’t say I couldn’t have it.” She shrugs and drops the gold tube and compact back in her