Ginnie Green, Makeover Queen

The Sleepover

Chapter Two ~ The Sleepover

The next evening after school we all gathered at my place. By all of us, I mean me, Shira Jacobson, Jules Munroe, and Kimiko Yamada. Friday night sleepovers have been a tradition since grade six when Kimiko's mother finally agreed it was something normal kids do all the time. We take turns hosting them, but it usually ends up being at my place because we have the run of the whole basement and my dad mostly leaves us alone. 

"Do you want me to order pizza?" he called down the stairs. Dad isn't much of a cook, although he does have a few specialties: spaghetti Bolognese, barbecued hamburgers, and French toast. 

"Yes!" we all yelled back. "The usual!" I added before he could ask. Two pizzas, extra sauce, pepperoni, pineapple, and hot peppers. That's our pizza. What's hilarious is that Jules picks off the hot peppers because she doesn't even like them. But she claims to love their essence - some invisible trace of them that gets left behind.  

"Let's talk about your plan," said Shira. She was sitting cross-legged next to me on one of the couches, her spine straight up and down with her usual perfect posture. 

"What plan?" asked Kimiko. She'd already changed into her pyjamas - flannel pants and a Sailor Moon sweatshirt - even though it was only five o'clock. 

"Ginnie's plan to become the next Alexander McQueen."  

"The next who?" asked Jules with her mouth full. She'd pulled out a Ziploc bag of green grapes from somewhere inside her knapsack.  

"Oh, pick up a magazine sometime," said Shira. She rolled her eyes and Jules rolled hers back. I was pretty sure Shira had never heard of Alexander McQueen before yesterday. But it didn't matter. I explained about the fashion camp in New York City, and Jules and Kimiko got really excited.  

"Oh my God, Ginnie! That's so perfect for you!" 

"You have to do it!"  

You know how your friends always know exactly what your best qualities are, and they think you're better at those things than anybody else? I couldn't help grinning at these girls I'd known since the first grade. Kimiko's face was upside-down as she dangled backwards over the arm of the couch, giving me two thumbs up. Jules's dimples were showing even with her cheeks stuffed full of grapes.  

"Thanks, guys. I am going to do it! I'm going to try, anyways." I knew my friends thought I was a style genius - and okay, yes, I thought I was, too - but I wasn't anywhere near sure that the rest of the school would think so. It's possible that I was only a genius by comparison. After we switched into seventh grade, we finally didn't have to wear uniforms anymore. But I was the only one of my friends who was happy about finally getting to pick out my own clothes. Just think about that.  

The fact is that I have a different take on style than some people. A bunch of the kids who go to my school would just look at the most popular girls and assume they're stylish and copy whatever it is they do. But I think that style is more individual. You have to express yourself and not just follow the trend. Plus trends don't look good on everyone. Not to mention, who wants to look like a clone of your friends? Or worse, like a clone of someone who isn't even your friend? 

"Do you think people will really want to pay me?" I said. "You can find a lot of things on the internet, you know. About style." 

"Not personalized advice," said Shira. "Plenty of people will pay. And their parents will give them the money." 

"They won't think it's a waste?" I tried to imagine what my father would say if I asked him for money for a makeover. 

"No way. It shows initiative. You're an entrepreneur."