Drawing Amanda by Stephanie Feuer

looking at? That’s so you! Are you trying one of those makeover programs?”
    “Mama, I didn’t hear you come in.”
    “Oh, mija , I didn’t mean to startle you. I love what you’re looking at,” her mother said. “Such a clever girl, you are. It’s perfect, perfect.”
    Amanda looked at the cursor blinking in the chat box. She hit the keyboard.
    Justagirl: GTG. POS.
    As she typed “POS,” she thought to herself that she’d never had any reason to type that before. So rarely was a parent over her shoulder, and rarer still that she had anything of her own, or had anything to hide.
    “I was just playing around.” Amanda didn’t know why exactly, but she was relieved that her mother didn’t ask any more about the game.
    “You could look like that. I think you’re right. Do you want a new look?”
    Amanda nodded. She could imagine the Sacred Circle girls talking about that haircut.
    “Print out that picture, Manda. Let’s get you a keratin and a new haircut. I’ll have daddy’s secretary set it up for you and me. It’s time for a New York look.”
    * * *
    At first the mirrors in the hair salon made Amanda cringe. The hairstylist, whom Amanda dubbed Edwina Scissorhands for her spider black hair and leather pants, took one look at the printout of the Megaland haircut and said awesome so many times, Amanda lost count.
    She liked being fussed over this way, and sometime between the shampoo and color and the blow dry, Amanda began to believe that with this haircut she was, as Edwina said, “Not just some ordinary girl. Somebody. You walk down the street with this cut and your long legs, and people’ll think, ‘There goes somebody.’”
    Then while her mother was getting her hair cut, Amanda walked around Madison Avenue. She felt a little like she was in a costume and kept looking at strangers to see their reaction. She stopped in a store that had greeting cards, notebooks and desk supplies. She thought she might pick up something for her brothers—she wanted to give them something special this Christmas. Each time she turned an item over and saw the price tag, she put it back. Even if she saved every penny of her allowance, she wouldn’t be able to afford much more than a paperweight in this store.
    She caught her reflection in a window, fluffed her hair and twisted the little plum curl around her index finger and saw a girl who was no longer plain and spindly. She smiled and waved; it was like she was meeting someone new.

Chapter 18
    Compare and Contrast
    I T FELT LIKE THE SCHOOL HALLWAY contracted when the bell between classes rang. Inky tucked his chin to his chest and headed towards his science classroom. It was like swimming against the tide, a tide of soccer players led by Sven and his wingmen.
    Just behind the Soccer Boys, Hawk, in a voice that sounded like wheels scraping on pavement, called out, “Halloween’s coming, Artboy. Get on your inner spook.”
    The Soccer Boys from both classes laughed, saying, “Good one, Hawk” and “Truth.”
    Inky saw Amanda walking behind Hawk. She lowered her head and looked away. He thought she was embarrassed, but was it because of what Hawk had said or was she embarrassed to see him? Rungs, who was jammed in the center, shot Inky a sympathetic glance.
    Inky wanted to say something to Hawk, but nothing came to mind. He glared at her, trying to pierce her with his gaze. It worked like a camera, and seared the moment into his memory.
    “Look with intention and attention,” his father would say when Inky was younger. Inky hadn’t quite understood the words at the time, but he had still developed the technique. His inner spook.
    Inky entered the class with the image of Hawk in the hallway emblazoned on his brain. Mr. Wallingford, the science teacher, touched the ends of his moustache and introduced the day’s lesson.
    “The scientific method,” the teacher said with that reverence Inky’s mother also used for the names of the miracle drugs her company