(Sorry for the late posting, my sleeping habits have been pretty crazy lately)

Notes: I knew I liked Isabella before I wrote her (she's been planned since the beginning) and now I'm just in love with her. I want to give her a spin-off. I feel like I'm cheating on Jude. I think the majority of Italian phrases will be obvious, but there's translations at the end of the chapter anyway.

Extra note: I just realized that this fic is now longer than my first SBM fic Guardian Angel – they had a relationship and break up in as many words as this has been so far and Jude and Ace haven't even kissed yet, but they will* soon**

Disclaimer: Cobras, Miss Simons, Haven are Stephen King's. Street names are taken from King's works set in Castle Rock. Aesthetics Institute in Portland is a real place. That's dedication to research right there, KA-POW!

Chapter Twelve.

Planning to meet with Rebecca before we made our way over to Marie's house, I left the house an entire hour before Ace Merrill was due to arrive to tile the bathroom. I was determined that picking up my car would be our only remaining meeting over the summer – I even persuaded Rebecca to take the long route to Marie's to avoid the small chance of crossing paths with him on Main Street.

We were strolling along, arms linked, down the sleepy residential area of Willow Street. In a small place like the Rock everywhere was within walking distance or only a few minutes away by car, and because we know we'd be more than just a little early at our natural pace, we made a deliberate effort to be as slow as possible. That, of course, meant Rebecca had more time to interrogate me about what had happened the day before.

As she had previously made clear on the phone, Rebecca was thoroughly curious and excited to know all the details about mine and Ace Merrill's 'date' – her words, not mine. After giving her a disapproving glance, I debated whether or not to tell her the facts that Ace spent a good ten minutes laid on my bed, was positive I was attracted to him and that we were left in the house alone with one another for a while. I didn't think I could bring myself to reiterate the things he'd said, and settled for a summary instead:

"He was an complete jerk the entire time!" I kicked at a small rock on the path for emphasis.

"Okay," Rebecca nodded in understanding before letting a grin widen on her face, "but details, Jude. Details."

I groaned in response and wondered how much I could tell her when there were so many other things that had happened between myself and Ace Merrill that I hadn't told her about. She was my best friend, for years we had confided everything in one another. But now, with our friendship with Barbs – who was closest to Rebecca out of the four of us – I didn't know how safe it was to let Rebecca know what had been going on. Barbs was already suspicious, I didn't want Rebecca to grow suspicious of me too, especially when there was nothing to be suspicious of in the first place.

I tried to sort through the day's events, thinking of details that were okay to part with when I remembered Ace's voice, 'Fucking me with your eyes'.

Rebecca noticed my sudden blush before I could attempt to hide it. We came to a stop on the sidewalk and she grabbed my shoulders to face me, "No. Way."

Faced with her misplaced disbelief, the colour left my cheeks, "Are you kidding me? There's no way I'd-" I couldn't bring myself to finish the sentence. "That's disgusting! He's disgusting!"

"Hmm." She raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to explain.

Well, there was absolutely no chance of that happening, but since my friends know that I find it impossible to lie, they also know I'll crack eventually with very little prompting. Rebecca, having known me the longest, was the best at this and would see through any bluff I tried to make.

A thought struck me, one that had been preying on my mind the night before, and I saw an opportunity and my escape.

"I want to try a little experiment." I began, meeting her gaze straight on. Her mischievous curiosity faded, replaced by confusion, and I continued before she could protest. "I just want you to tell me how I'm looking at you."

"How you're looking at me? What are you talking about?"

"Just indulge me for a second."

I stared at Rebecca Halls, at my best friend who I'd practically been raised with, until it wasn't her I was looking at any more. Her wide brown eyes turned into an ice-blue glare. Her skin tanned and grew stubble, her jaw lengthened with a cruel smirk. Her eyelashes, eyebrows and hair all lightened to a styled strawberry blonde. Her hair became short and meticulously styled. I stared at my conjured Ace Merrill and replayed yesterday's events.

"How is it?" I asked, hoping my imagination wouldn't make Ace respond instead of Rebecca.

"Angry." It was Rebecca's voice, and the image of Ace Merrill dissolved as her words reached me. "Sort of annoyed, but like you'll get over it pretty quickly." She cocked her head to the side, "Remember in eighth grade when Miss Simons thought we'd cheated on that test because our answers were exactly the same? It's kind of the look you gave her."

"I knew it!" I felt like I'd won a small victory and decided not to dwell too much on her thorough explanation – I'd held a grudge for months against Miss Simons back then, even though we explained we'd studied for the test together, we'd still had to retake it, separately.

"Well, this has been really enlightening for me. Thanks for that, Jude." Rebecca crossed her arms and gave me a look that said 'You're going to some length to hide whatever happened yesterday'.

"Okay, that was how I look at Ace Merrill and that is also what he thinks means I like him." I explained it slowly, somewhat aware of how happily deluded I sounded, as we resumed our walk.

Rebecca thought over what I said for a few moments before finally asking, "He thinks you like him?"

"Yeah."

"How do you know that, exactly?" Intrigue crept back into her voice.

"He said it: because of 'the way I look at him'," I hoped I wouldn't have to go further into what he actually said, and that Rebecca wouldn't ask what had triggered his statement.

Thankfully she didn't, "Maybe he likes that - maybe he's sick of girls with moon-eyes tripping over themselves to get to him."

"Maybe he likes being looked at like he wrongly accused someone of cheating on a test?" I raised an eyebrow at her until we both started giggling. "I just can't wait till I pick up the car and I don't have to deal with him any more."

It wasn't long afterwards that we were outside Marie's house on Laurel Street, the lawn hidden by a wide variety of her younger sibling's toys and three cars – Mr Picetti's station wagon, Marie's Chevy and a bright red Dodge Coronet that belonged to Isabella, Marie's eldest sister who, as far as we knew, was still attending Beauty School in Portland.

We glanced at each other and back to the Dodge apprehensively. Isabella was only three years older than us, and had been an older sister to us all in her own way – her own way being to treat us like dolls and practice her hair and make-up skills on us until she had left town last year. She also, like all the members of the Picetti family, lacked some subtlety, and had given all of us some physical complex at some point in our teen years.

Rebecca murmured, "I thought they'd be picking her up on their way to New York," as we navigated our way to the porch.

Marie opened the door before we'd fully made our way up the steps, "Welcome to the Picetti Salon, ladies," there was a band-aid on her forehead, "where beauty is pain."

We both stared at the blue strip, mouths slightly agape.

"Come for the free make-over," Her tone was still that of an amicable saleswoman until she turned to the stairs, her voice rising, "Stay for being maimed by curling tongs!"

"I told you not to struggle, bambino!" Isabella's contralto voice was instantly familiar, and was filled with the same old teasing tone.

Once again, our plans to have a study session were foiled, this time by someone who could inflict injuries. Great.

Marie turned back to us, "Barbs and Stacy are already upstairs, what's left of them anyway."

My eyes widened as I looked back at the stairs, and I whispered, "I thought you were picking her up on the way?"

Shrugging, Marie replied, "Me too."

Mrs Picetti chose that moment to enter the hallway, the two youngest Picetti children pulling at her skirt, and told us in her own way in incomprehensible broken English to 'keep it down', despite her being the loudest voice in the house. Rebecca and I both said 'Hi' and meekly waved before she clicked her tongue and disappeared back through the door.

Marie moved to the stairs, "To the torture chamber we go."

Isabella really had set up a salon, and in Marie's bedroom no less – they'd shared it before Isabella left the Rock. There were several large cases placed randomly on the floor, all containing hair or beauty products, and an array of hair-dryers and tongs laid out on the bed. The only thing missing was a salon chair and I wondered how on earth she'd managed to fit it all in her car.

I didn't notice Stacy at first, sat on the floor leafing through a book, her head covered in large hair-rollers, I had to stifle a laugh at the sight. Isabella, her thick black her swept up into a scarf, was sat next to Barbs at the vanity, painting her nails. I was glad Marie had been over-exaggerating and raised an eyebrow at her, her face remained blank as she pointed to the band-aid on her forehead. Rebecca caught sight of Stacy and laughed.

Isabella turned at the sound, a grin on her face. "Becky! Ju-" Her eyes met mine and the smile fell from her face. "Judy, what is," Her hand with the nail polish brush moved in a circle as she gestured towards me, "that?"

As soon as I saw her car I had known this was coming, known I wouldn't be able to be in the same room as her without her commenting on my hair. Marie had started to grin as she sat herself down next to Stacy, giving me an 'I told you so' look. I opened my mouth to answer but she cut me off, turning in the chair to fully face me.

"You left it that shade? And you haven't even touched up your roots! Mannaggia!" And then a scarily familiar smile appeared on her face, the one that meant the gears were turning. "This is gonna' take some time."

She turned back to Barbs, quickly finishing her current job, and I glanced at the box of band aids that had been left open on the dresser. "Bella-"

"You gonna' turn down a free make-over? Y'know much they'd charge you up at The Beauty Rest to fix that?" Isabella held up Barbs hands to investigate her work, then placed the used pot of nail polish down on the vanity. She stood up from the chair, and began to look through some of her cases. "You get," she gestured to my hair again, "all nice for free and I get free work experience."

Rebecca had also joined Stacy on the floor, no doubt feeling quite pleased that she'd been overlooked. I looked at Marie again, silently asking 'Can she be trusted?' as Isabella filled her arms.

Marie smiled back, and I understood, 'No, she can't.'

Finished with the cases, her supplies gathered, Isabella ushered me out of the door. "Come on, let's cut n' dye!"

"Cut?" I paused at the top of the steps, "Dye!?"

Ignoring my anxious questioning, Isabella lead us into the kitchen, grabbed a chair and set it up on the back porch, and motioned for me to sit. I tried to at least appreciate that she wasn't doing this to me on the front porch, but didn't like the ambiguous things wrapped in a sheet she'd brought with her. She took my bag and dropped it just inside the porch door, then fetched another chair and placed it down next to the one she'd sat me on.

"As a student of cosmetology, I can not let your hair suffer any longer. The style – not to mention your bangs – have completely grown out, and that colour? Non bene." She laid her tools out on the empty chair, a hairbrush, two combs, scissors, and a few bottles of unidentifiable liquid. "Don't get me started on the condition, when was the last time you even went to a salon?"

I pointed at the few inches of roots that were showing for my answer, "Are you sure it's okay to do it for free? All that stuff in there must have cost a lot."

She laughed, "Bambino, 'that stuff' cost The Aesthetics Institute a lot."

That wasn't as much of a surprise as it should have been. After Isabella graduated highschool, she spent the next year waitressing and stealing – a fact that she'd never been ashamed of or attempted to hide from us – until she received her letter of acceptance and moved to Portland.

So my 'make-over' was not only going to be free, it was going to be courtesy of stolen goods.

Isabella clipped the cloth around my neck and began to brush my hair out. "Marie said you guys are going to that European Carnival thing this year, right?"

"Yeah, on Saturday."

The carnival was taking place in Haven on the last weekend of July for the second time – previously it had only visited Portland in the entire state, but last year it came to Haven and the whole county was abuzz with the news. The girls and I, who felt we had outgrown the Castle County Fair at the same time we noticed that most other girls our age went with their boyfriends, had ignored the chatter of the carnival and had stayed home. The next day, everyone was talking about it. Everyone's grandma was talking about it. There had been the usual fair type stuff like hook-a-duck, the strength tester and the coconut shy, but there hadn't been the usual agricultural events like sheepdog trials and horse pulling that we were used to, living in a town surrounded by farmland. Instead there had been a circus tent with acrobats, contortionists, fire-breathers and jugglers, a carousel, a funhouse, a freakshow and a ferris wheel, rows of stalls and tents with food, games or exotic wares, and a fireworks display at the end of the night. Needless to say, we had thoroughly kicked ourselves for the rest of that summer.

Brushing the hair back from my face, Isabella crept into my view, "At least you're maintaining your eyebrows." She chuckled, "Yikes, they used to be a mess."

And there's the physical complex she gave me at the tender age of eleven.

She picked up the comb, and held it against her chin, studying me from the front. "I think since you've got the brows, let's go full Audrey Hepburn and give you a pixie cut." She cocked her head to the side, "Like in Roman Candle."

That was more hair than I was currently prepared to lose, "Maybe leave something that dramatic for when I go to college." I was still uneasy that she hadn't mentioned anything about dye yet and glanced at the unmarked bottles dubiously.

"I'll be charging you next summer then," Isabella grinned.

I toyed with the ends of my hair, looking at where they rested just below my shoulders, it was getting a little longer than I liked. "I don't mind it being a little shorter."

"Oh! How about Funny Face since you keep it tied back?"

Smiling at her obsession with Audrey Hepburn, I nodded.

bambino: baby/child

mannaggia: damn

non bene: not good

This chapter was brought to you by A MINOR CHARACTER OUTSHINING THE HEROINE.

*next chapter

** hear that? That's the sound of me cackling into next Thursday