Melinda’s Journal
Wednesday, March 7
Last night was one of the most incredible nights of my life. I never knew attending a premiere could be so much fun. But this morning, when I woke up, Sarah had sent me links to a bunch of websites with pictures from the premiere. I was in a few of them, albeit in the background, but it made me uncomfortable to know that someone had put my picture online without my knowledge.
Sarah and I talked for a while about the premiere, and I shared with her the pictures I had taken. She said she hardly recognized me and Walter. Our transformations amazed her.
I tried to explain about becoming Mae Dupont for the night, but she didn’t seem to understand. But talking to her got me thinking.
I’ve always said I’m not Patrick McGregor’s girlfriend. Last night, Mae Dupont was, and I really felt like I was someone else. Maybe, if I’m going to be spending the rest of my vacation here, I should transform myself into Mae Dupont.
Melinda’s Story
I put down my journal when my phone signaled an incoming video chat. I tried to avoid rolling my eyes as I answered the call.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hey, Baby Girl. How was the movie?”
I shrugged. “Pretty good.”
“Just okay? I thought you’d be more excited about the premiere.”
“You didn’t ask about the premiere. You asked about the movie. The premiere was really fun. Pat introduced me to a ton a people.”
“Can I see some pictures?”
“If I send them to you, are you going to hang up on me to look at them?”
“I will try not to.”
I texted my mother the picture someone had taken of me standing between Pat and Walter.
“Oh, you look so grown up! All of you do!”
“Miss Kara had her stylists do my hair and makeup. And I kind of felt like I didn’t really look like me anymore.”
My mother nodded. “I can understand that.”
“I was thinking maybe I could keep not looking like me while I’m here.”
“What do you mean?”
I sighed. “When we got off the airplane? There were people trying to take Pat’s picture. Mr. Adam said that happens a lot whenever they go anywhere. There’re people just waiting to take pictures of them, like shopping or going out to eat.”
My mother nodded. “I’ve seen many of those pictures. So have you.”
“Yeah. But I don’t want to be in them. So, I was thinking maybe I could wear a little makeup like I did last night and look a little older. And then I found this thing in Meghan’s bathroom that can turn my hair pink. But I wanted to make sure it was okay with you before I tried it.”
“What about when you go back to school? Will you still have pink hair and wear makeup?”
I made a face. “Nah. Make up takes too much effort.”
“And the hair?”
I took a deep breath. “Well, it’s supposed to wash out. But I know some kids at school who dyed their hair, and it took a long time before it went away. I promise I’m not going to keep doing it, but I can’t promise it will be completely gone before I go back to school.”
“As long as it eventually washes out, I don’t mind.”
“Thank you!”
I was reading by the pool when Pat returned from his audition. I put down my phone as he sat on the deck chair beside me.
“Hey. How was the audition?”
He flashed his famous smile. “They want me to come back Friday for a screen test.”
“That’s good, right?”
He nodded. “It means I’m on their very short list of people they might like to play the role. They want to see how I interact with the other people they’re considering.”
“That’s great.”
“Yeah. But I really want this part. So, I was thinking, what if I dress it?”
“Like, wear what they wore way back when?”
“Yeah. Where would you go if you wanted to go shopping for that kind of stuff?”
I screwed up my face in thought. “Well, if it was just a couple of decades, I’d think a consignment shop or a vintage store. But that’s like really old, so maybe a costume store?”
We both began searching on our phones. By the time Shelia brought sandwiches to us, I had found the perfect place. I passed Pat my phone.
“Decades of Duds. They have a combination of authentic consignments and costumes they bought from the studios.”
“That sounds perfect. I also want to —”
Pat cut himself off when his phone sang. After a quick chat with his agent, he turned back to me. “Up for a little shopping?”
I shrugged. “I’d love to. Will your parents mind us going out?”
“Nah. Dad said it was fine.”
Something about Pat’s smile made me suspicious. “I find that hard to believe. He was really against us being alone together yesterday. How’d you change his mind?”
Pat came to sit beside me on my chair. “I might have implied that you and I would end up taking a nap together if we stayed here.”
“Patrick!” I was mortified. I pushed him away playfully.
His response was a kiss so intense, I forgot what we were arguing about. He leaned into me until we were reclining on the chair together. I was just thinking I could spend my entire afternoon in this chair when Pat’s phone sang again.
This time, I recognized the ringtone Pat used for his father. I pushed him off me.
“If we’re going shopping, I better go get changed.”
I hurried to my room and quickly found the dress I wanted to wear: a turquoise V-neck sundress with a flirty skirt that flared out when I turned. I brought it into the bathroom and removed the can of foam I had found in Meghan’s cabinet. After talking to my mother, I had texted Meghan to ask if I could use it. She not only gave me permission but also gave me some tips on applying it.
I hopped into the shower to wet my hair. After turning off the water, I squirted a large amount of foam onto the top of my head. I combed the color through my hair and almost instantly I could see it becoming the color of bubble gum. I piled my hair on the top of my head and applied more foam, combing it into the underlayers. Eventually, I had to use my hands as if I were scrubbing with shampoo, but finally, I was confident I could no longer see any traces of my brown hair.
I washed the glittery pink from my hands and used the blow dryer to style my hair. After changing into my dress, I examined myself in the full-length mirror in the closet. I wasn’t Melinda. And I loved Mae’s new look.
There was a knock on the bedroom door. “Everything okay in there?”
I returned to the bedroom to find Pat standing in the doorway. “Yeah.” I turned in a slow circle, searching the room. “I was just looking for my purse.”
I found it on the desk. I grabbed my phone and shoved it in, then turned to Pat. “Okay. I’m ready. Let’s go.”
“What did you do?”
I sighed. “I don’t know if you can understand.”
Pat sat on the floor just outside my room. “Try me.”
I sat in the doorway against the opposite wall to face him. “As soon as we leave this house, you’re going to be Patrick McGregor. And there will be people trying to take your picture. And they’re going to see me with you and think you’re babysitting me or something. And I don’t want that. I don’t want Melinda associated with Patrick McGregor. So, I thought maybe while I’m here in LA, I would just be Mae every time we leave the house.”
“Since when does Mae have pink hair?” Pat reached out to play with a lock.
I shrugged. “I didn’t want to look like me. My mom said it was okay. Do you like it?”
“I love it.”
He leaned in to kiss me, but I quickly got to my feet. Stepping over him, I headed toward the stairs, turning to face him as I danced down the hall.
“Then let’s get going. I need to buy more pink hair.”
I was impressed by the size of the vintage clothing store. Although it looked small from the outside, there were a lot of clothes packed into the small space. I glanced at the directory just inside the door. After Pat paid the parking meter, he joined me. I pointed to the map.
“Seventies are in that corner.”
I took Pat’s hand and dragged him through the more modern clothing to the disco era in the back corner. “How can I help?”
Pat frowned. “I think I want jeans and short sleeves. Can you find me a shirt?”
I squinted at him. “Medium?”
“I think so?”
I leafed through the rack. Although the plastic divider said I was in the medium section, the shirts had numbers on the tags that made no sense to me. With a shrug, I focused more on what I thought might look good on Pat.
He selected several pants to go with the shirts, and eventually his arms were overloaded. I shook my head at him.
“I think you should go try those on.”
Pat made a face. “I don’t think —”
I didn’t let him finish. My brother was the same way. He hated dressing rooms. He would rather bring things home to try them on then return anything that didn’t fit. What a waste of time.
I walked over to a clerk organizing clothes in the forties section.
“Excuse me. My friend needs to try on some clothes?”
The clerk nodded. “Of course. Follow me.”
The dressing room was located in the space under the staircase. The clerk unlocked the door and walked away. Pat disappeared into the room.
I played on my phone while I waited. I wanted to see if I could find any pictures of how Pat should be dressing. A few minutes later, he walked out, looking remarkably similar to the picture on my screen.
“How exactly did people wear this?”
I giggled. “Well, you definitely look the part.”
“It’s not too tight?”
I smiled. “I think it looks perfect.”
Pat tried on many more outfits. None of the jeans fit him as well as the first pair, and while the shirts all looked good, the first one he had tried on was his favorite.
“You almost done?” I had lost track of how many times he had gotten changed.
“Almost. I just want to try on these athletic shorts.”
Pat was in the room for a long time. Eventually, I figured I should check on him. I knocked on the door. “How’s it going in there?”
“Um, I think there’s something wrong here.”
“Lemme see.”
Pat opened the door, but he didn’t come out. I peered in, finding him staring at himself in the mirror. The first thing I noticed was that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Absently, I wandered into the room, the door automatically closing behind me. Then, I saw Pat’s shorts.
They were so short, his boxers were sticking out of the bottom. They also looked a little tight. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“I think those are meant for my brother.”
Pat looked offended. Still frowning at the mirror, he tried to convince me they were the right size. But I wasn’t listening. I quickly took a picture and sent it to Walter.
Pat spun around. “What are you doing?”
“I’m just, uh, looking up what people wore.” I switched to my browser. “You know. In the ’76 Olympics.”
I knew Pat would see through the lie. He tried to grab the phone, but I backed away from him, right into a corner.
“Lemme see the picture.”
I deleted it, then showed him the phone. “No. There’s no picture. There’s no picture. See?”
“Was there?”
“Maybe?” Pat was moving closer, and I found it difficult to form a complete thought. His face was only inches from mine when I heard Walter’s ringtone.
Pat turned back to the mirror, asking me to find his phone in his pants pocket. It wasn’t difficult. I just had to following the ringing. Walter was sending a barrage of texts. I read through them.
“Walter said he won’t finish until at least five. And he wants to know why I’m in the dressing room with you. Especially since you’re practically naked. Although he used a lot of words I’m not going to repeat.”
Pat frowned as he grabbed the phone from me. “Gimme that. I am not practically naked.”
I opened the door, taking one last look before leaving the dressing room. “Yeah. You kind of are.”
Pat’s Story
As I drove home, I thought more and more about the screen test. I wanted this part so bad I could taste it. And I wanted to do everything I could to get it. I had a couple of ideas in mind as I went in search of Melinda.
She was playing on her phone by the pool. Shelia brought us some sandwiches while I told her about the audition and my plan. She agreed to help me, and we spent the rest of lunch brainstorming some ideas until my phone played Flower Children.
“Hey, Dave, what’s up?”
“Patrick, you were incredible. I just heard from Karen Drummond, and they want you for their screen tests on Friday.”
I waved a dismissive hand. “Old news.”
“Then I guess you don’t need the audition script?”
I sighed. “You are the best agent ever.”
While Melinda giggled at my lackluster tone, Dave grinned. “Much better. I’m going to send you the script. They also wanted me to tell you to pack some running shorts and tennis shoes, but they wouldn’t explain why. There are several Patricks, a few coaches and a handful of girlfriends. They’re planning on running the Patricks with the coaches in the morning and the girlfriends in the afternoons. So, plan on being there all day.”
I nodded. “Any sage advice?”
“Yeah. Don’t screw this up. This part was made for you.”
Dave ended the call, and a moment later, I received the script in my inbox. I turned to Melinda.
“Up for a little shopping?”
She shrugged. “I’d love to. Will your parents mind us going out?”
“Nah. Dad said it was fine.”
Melinda narrowed her eyes at me. “I find that hard to believe. He was really against us being alone together yesterday. How’d you change his mind?”
I joined her on her deck chair. “I might have implied that you and I would end up taking a nap together if we stayed here.”
Melinda’s face turned red, and she hit me playfully on the chest. “Patrick!”
I kissed her, lowering her gently onto the deck chair. I was thinking maybe we should stay there and skip the shopping trip when my phone sang Fly With Me.
I swore. “That man has amazing timing.”
Melinda gently pushed me away. “If we’re going shopping, I better go get changed.”
I thought Melinda looked fine in her jeans and tee shirt, but half an hour later, I was still waiting for her to return. How long did she need to change her clothes? Eventually, I figured I should go make sure she hadn’t gotten lost in her closet. I hustled up the stairs, knocking on Melinda’s open door.
“Everything okay in there?”
“Yeah. I was just looking for my purse.”
Melinda emerged from the closet wearing a low-cut dress the color of a tropical sea. But I hardly noticed it because I was so fascinated by her hair. It looked like glittery bubble gum as it hung past her shoulders. Although she looked amazing, she didn’t look like Melinda. Speechless, I watched her search the room, eventually shoving her phone into a small bag.
She turned to me. “Okay. I’m ready. Let’s go.”
I found my voice. “What did you do?”
Melinda shrugged. “I don’t know if you can understand.”
I had a feeling this might take a while, so I sat down right where I was. Although I doubted Shelia would notice or even care, I made sure I was just outside the bedroom. Melinda sat on the opposite side of the doorframe, facing me.
“As soon as we leave this house, you’re going to be Patrick McGregor. And there will be people trying to take your picture. And they’re going to see me with you and think you’re babysitting me or something. And I don’t want that. I don’t want Melinda associated with Patrick McGregor. So, I thought maybe while I’m here in LA, I would just be Mae every time we leave the house.”
Although I could actually understand her train of thought, one part still confused me. I tugged a lock of hair. “Since when does Mae have pink hair?”
“I didn’t want to look like me. My mom said it was okay. Do you like it?”
“I love it.” I tried to show her how much with a kiss, but she scrambled to her feet before I could get close. She stepped over me and started down the hall, turning around and walking backwards as she called back to me.
“Then let’s get going. I need to buy more pink hair.”
I chased her all the way to the garage.
As we drove toward central LA, I pointed out a few sights. I was a little surprised when Melinda asked about hiking in the canyon when we had some free time. I thought it sounded like a lot of fun, but I never would have expected it from her.
She was fascinated by the views of the city from the hill. I had become used to it, but I tried to see it from her perspective and realized she was right. It really was kind of pretty.
I parked on the street in front of the store. As I raised the roof, Melinda pointed to the frozen yogurt place nearby.
“What do you say to a snack after we go shopping? My treat.”
“I like the way you think.” I gave her a quick kiss before we climbed out of the car. Melinda headed into the store while I paid the meter with my debit card, then I followed her in.
The place was huge. Melinda was looking at some sort of sign just inside the door. I went to look over her shoulder. She pointed to the map.
“Seventies are in that corner.”
We wove our way through racks of clothes from various decades of the twentieth century until we found the seventies section. The selection was amazing. They had everything from formal wear to underwear. Melinda searched through the shirts while I tried to find a pair of pants.
I had done as much research as I could on Patrick Barrett and one thing I had learned was that he was from a poor section of a poor city. My guess was that he wouldn’t have worn the most stylish clothing. I had done my homework and knew that jeans were cheaper than polyester pants back when Patrick Barrett was my age. Nevertheless, I couldn’t resist holding up a pair of polyester pants nearly as orange as my hair.
“What do you think?”
Melinda giggled. “I think you better stick to darker colors.”
I dug around the rack some more until I found some jeans. I even found some running shorts. Melinda picked out some oxford shirts and tees she thought would fit me. When my arm was overloaded with clothes, she insisted I go try them on. She even found a salesclerk to let me into a dressing room.
I tried on the first pair of jeans. I hated them. They flared out at my ankles until they were at least twice as wide as the leg. They also rode much higher up my waist than my regular jeans. Although the tag said they were my size, they felt a little tight. The shirt was even tighter. I raised my eyebrows at my reflection before opening the door.
“How exactly did people wear this?”
Melinda giggled. “Well, you definitely look the part.”
I squirmed a little. “It’s not too tight?”
“I think it looks perfect.”
I returned to the dressing room and tried on a few more outfits, but none seemed to fit as well as the first one. Melinda agreed that the first one was still her favorite. Finally, I tried on the athletic shorts, but something didn’t look right. I was still wearing an oxford shirt. I took that off, but it wasn’t the problem. The shorts just did not seem to fit properly. Although they were a little loose in my waist, my boxers were sticking out from the bottom.
I was still frowning at the mirror when Melinda called through the door. “How’s it going in there?”
“Um, I think there’s something wrong here.”
“Lemme see.”
I was so busy staring at my reflection that I didn’t really think about what I was doing. I reached over and opened the door and Melinda joined me in the small space. I watched her reaction in the mirror. She went wide-eyed for a split second before she burst out laughing.
“I think those are meant for my brother.”
“No, look.” I pulled on the waist. “If anything, they’re a little—Wait! What are you doing?”
I spun around. Melinda’s phone was in her hand, pointed toward me. She smiled as she pressed something on it. “I’m just, uh, looking up what people wore. You know. In the ’76 Olympics.”
Melinda was a horrible liar. I grabbed for the phone, but she danced away from me. I reached again.
“Lemme see the picture.” Fortunately for me, she had backed herself into a corner, literally. I closed the space between us as she furiously shook her head.
“No. There’s no picture. There’s no picture. See?”
She held up her phone to show me the gallery. If she had taken a photo, she must have already deleted it.
I took a step closer. “Was there?”
“Maybe?”
“Did you send it to anyone before you deleted it?”
“Maybe?”
Her smirk clearly indicated that she had. I wanted to be mad, but her face was only inches from mine. I leaned in closer. And my phone played the theme song to NeoGenesis.
I frowned as I turned back to the mirror. “My phone’s in my jeans. Can you see what Walter wants?”
Melinda dug through my pockets as I looked at myself from different angles. “So, what do you think? Should I buy the shorts?”
“Walter said he won’t finish until at least five. And he wants to know why I’m in the dressing room with you. Especially since you’re practically naked. Although he used a lot of words I’m not going to repeat.”
“Gimme that.” I grabbed my phone from her hands. “I am not practically naked.”
Melinda opened the dressing room door. In the mirror, I saw her smirk. “Yeah. You kind of are.”
Attention Hammerheads
Melinda is always trying to build her vocabulary. What were some words in this episode that were new to you? She will add them to her vocabulary journal.
Hartfield Chronicles 