Melody

Chapter 5: Blanche's 'date'

At the salon. The hairdresser gave us a large folio to look through. We found the hairstyle.
"That's what you meant, isn't it, Mel?"
"Yeah, that's like what that girl had."
Alene held it up next to Blanche's face, "That is you, babe, definitely."
"Totally," endorsed Jackie, "Come on, let's make an appointment for you."
Blanche was unsure, but she was still being railroaded.
Next Thursday, after school, four o'clock. We all had to be there. Jackie exchanged numbers with me so she could remind me. Maybe I was being railroaded just as much as Blanche.

As we were walking away from the salon, the girls stopped and looked at me.
"Mel, you've got a real eye for girl's stuff. How come you know so much?"
I felt myself going red. "Look . . . I don't really know much at all. I guess . . . er, I like looking at girls and, and . . . how they dress and that sort of thing," I stammered.
Jackie and Alene began grabbing me by my arms, laughing and saying, "It's alright, Mel. You've been great. Between us we're going to turn Blanche into a total babe."

Thursday, sitting between Jackie and Alene as Blanche was getting her hair done. Strangely, I didn't feel at all awkward or embarrassed in this very feminine environment. I'd never been in a hair salon before this one, or even a barbers - I usually wore my hair fairly long and Mum just trimmed it up as was needed.
I was really enjoying watching the hairdressers go about their work, and I was being my usual critical self with thoughts like: "that doesn't really suit you, ma'am", "yeah, that looks good", "style okay, hair colour, maybe not", etc.
Blanche was done. She looked uncertain, but Jackie and Alene were gushing. Blanche turned to me, "What do you think, Mel?"
"Terrific," I replied with honest fervour, "it really suits you."
She seemed a little more convinced.

So was I off the hook now? No.
"Mel, Blanche's place at three o'clock on Saturday. That'll give us two hours to get her ready and looking fabulous."
"Okay, Jackie."

"Hello, girls and . . ."
"Mel, Mrs Ropati."
"Oh, you need the male opinion, do you?"
"Mel's got a real flair for what's right, Mrs Ropati."

We had fun and we got Blanche looking really good.
"Wow, that poor date of yours is going to be drooling."
"Stop it, Alene, he's not a date." But Blanche was obviously pleased with how she looked.
When we interrogated her the next day, she admitted that she had had a good time, and that her partner (not a date!) had been impressed with how she looked.