Desperate, Mallory turns to Stacey McGill.
"Please," Mallory begs. "I want to be just like you."
Stacey needs the distraction, needs to forget her own life, and the clutter pushing her out of it, taking over her control. So, Stacey and Mallory spend the late-mornings holed up in Stacey's bedroom, cosmetics and clothes and hair products and shoes scattered around them, overflowing from the dresser, desk, and armchair. Stacey sweeps dusty rose eyeshadow across Mallory's lids, grits her teeth and hisses "hold still!" when Mallory blinks and smudges the liner.
They don't discuss the boxes piling up all over Stacey's house. They don't discuss Mrs. McGill's fast approaching wedding date, or that at the start of August, Stacey will not be packing to join the Pikes in Sea City. She'll be much too busy sorting through and packing away and sealing up every content of her Stoneybrook self, and then will watch the movers carelessly toss that self into a moving truck headed for Maine. Stacey doesn't want to live in Maine. She doesn't want to live in a Bed and Breakfast either. Stacey has little faith in her mother's choice in men and even less faith in her mother's business sense. After all, Maureen McGill sunk her boutique in just five short months. And, Stacey would love to move back to New York, except her stepmother failed to meet anyone's expectations, and so, it's best that Stacey not even visit.
So, Stacey needs the distraction.
Stacey does what she can for Mallory. She identifies the three essentials for sophistication - appearance, attitude, and boys. At least, Mr. and Mrs. Pike allow Mallory to wear make-up and Stacey's discarded clothes fit, more or less. Now, if only the Pikes would do something about Mallory's frizzy, tangled mess of hair. And, if only, they would get her contacts. Mallory really can't afford to wait two more years. As far as Stacey's concerned, Mallory Pike needs more help than Stacey can possibly give in a month and a half.
As for boys, Mallory can't move beyond Ben Hobart.
"I'm comfortable with Ben," Mallory tells Stacey.
"You aren"t supposed to feel comfortable," snaps Stacey. "You're supposed to feel sexy." Stacey twirls in her mother's lilac and fuchsia silk robe, then sits down at the dressing table. "That's the mark of a grown up - feeling sexy." Stacey smiles knowingly and dabs perfume behind her ears. "That's how I always feel with Jason. Sexy and desirable."
"I don't think I've ever felt that way with Ben,"
"Then, obviously, you're doing something wrong,"
So, Mallory leaves Stacey's house and heads straight to Ben's teetering in a pair of Stacey's unwanted platform sandals, wearing a gray tank top and more make-up than her parents allow. The platforms rub her raw between her toes and the tank top sags in the chest. Mallory doubts she'll ever fill anything out like Stacey. Mallory doubts she'll ever be anything like Stacey at all.
At the Hobart's, Ben locks the door to his bedroom. Since Mallory's return from boarding school, all he's interested in is how quickly he can take off her shirt and bra. Mallory would object, but Stacey told her not to. And, if anyone knows about being grown up, it's Stacey McGill.
But Mallory certainly doesn't feel grown up getting felt up by Ben Hobart. Instead, she feels vaguely sick. And, she certainly doesn't feel grown up when she slides her hand beneath the waistband of his jeans. Instead, she feels like bursting into tears or throwing up. Sometimes, she feels like doing both.
Stacey assures her this is how things are done. Everybody does it and Mallory should shut up about it.
Mallory never realized that thirteen came with so many strings. She thought it would be easy, uncomplicated, and she'd simply roll over in the morning, a new and lovely Mallory Pike. But, the steps and rules Stacey outlined aren't easy or uncomplicated or simple. Mallory finds it hard to believe that the other girls grew up by the same means at thirteen. Stacey assures her though. Mary Anne and Logan, Claudia and Trevor, Kristy and Bart, Dawn and Lewis, none of them were any different than Stacey and Mallory at thirteen. Mallory trusts Stacey. She has no other choice.
It's faith in Stacey and faith in thirteen that keep Mallory returning to Ben Hobart's bedroom every afternoon. It's faith that sophistication and glamour will suddenly appear that stops her from pushing Ben away when he fumbles to unhook her bra.
Something will happen, Mallory knows, and it will happen this summer.