Ch. 3 THE WEEKEND

JACKIE

"Su – Suze!" I sputtered while I tried to avoid her wand of lip gloss that she was threatening to apply on me.

Suze, who, after promptly getting fed up with my ducking and dodging, firmly grabbed my face by the chin, said, "Hold still." She then proceeded to put that stuff all over my lips, on which she had already applied lipstick and lip-liner to.

Yes. How the hell did I agree to this in the first place? Oh, yeah. Sister Ernestine impressed upon me the importance of looking up to their "school standards." Apparently, my look hadn't been "up to school standards." Did I really care if I was or wasn't looking acceptable for the Sister? Not particularly. But since I had no desire to spend the rest of my high school career having detention after school, I enlisted Suze – who always seemed to look impeccably dressed – and Cee Cee to help a girl out here.

And what'd I get? A make over - apparently, Suze felt a make over was called for; either that, or she just simply was itching to give me one.

Whatever.

The two of them had taken me shopping – where I expressly declined their offers to pay for some of my shopping expenses. We didn't go to the mall, which surprised me, but Suze informed me of her distaste in the mall – any mall, actually, which tended to give her a sensory overload. So instead we stuck to other stores. Which meant driving around, but Suze didn't mind.

Soon they all got me clothes that seemed to come straight out of Abercrombie and Fitch – and some clothes did come from Abercrombie and Fitch. In fact, my potential wardrobe was starting to look like – perish the thought – Kelly Prescott's wardrobe.

"That's what they want," Cee Cee said, disgustedly, but thank God that the two of them acknowledged that I was right, so they went easy on me, and let me pick out some clothes that were more of my style, along with the clothes that were the – ew – Kelly-ish style.

They even let me go to Hot Topic – a punk and rock 'n roll store, where I practically live – and purchase some … less extreme clothes that I liked.

However, I was astonished what a little pastel, white, and some other colors could do for me, in my otherwise diverse outfits of black on black. And Suze was some bargain hunter. I never thought I'd see the word, "Sale" so many times on a single receipt in my life.

Now, Suze seemed intent on wiping away my black eyeliner and such. Even though the make-up she smeared on me was more than I usually wear, I supremely doubted that it was going to make any difference on me – I wouldn't know, seeing as how the two of them insistently did not let me come near any mirrors until they were absolutely done.

"Are you done yet?" I pretended to growl in irritation. Actually, I was having fun doing this whole "girly" thing (but if you tell my girlfriends back in the 'hood I said this, they will torment me with the rest of my life). It was out of pride that I fake annoyance, you know? A girl's gotta keep her rep.

"Al… most…" said Suze, and with a flourish of her make-up brush, she announced, "Ta-da!"

Cee Cee brought out a mirror for me to look at myself with. Okay, I thought to myself. So what if they probably did a bad job? I'll just pretend I like it. Besides, we all had a good time, and I'm really glad I came with them.

But when I peered into the mirror, I was silenced with astonishment.

This- this can't be me… can it…?

Suze and Cee Cee had satisfied smiles on their faces, but I couldn't for the life of me care, because…

… because I was beautiful.

That's right. Mi papa always told me, when I was a little girl, that I was the most beautiful person in the world. That the stars had rained down on my hair and that my eyes were like two dark dew drops. But did I ever believe him? Never until this very moment.

"I – I - " was my stuttered reply.

"You're welcome," Suze said, with a grin on her face.

When I came home, my mother dropped the pot she was drying in the kitchen.

"Mi hija (my daughter)"

The pot fell with a loud clang on the tiled floor. She promptly picked it up, but continued to stare at me.

I tried to play it cool, of course. "Hey, Mom," I nodded, and then started to head upstairs to my bedroom.

"Stop right there, young lady," Her firm voice made my feet come to a halt. Mom's voice had that kind of command over me – and anyone else, for that matter. I shuffled over back to her in the kitchen.

Mom's eyes were looking at me, affectionately.

"No, Mom, I have not given up my 'Punk Phase,' so you can forget keeping this," I gruffly told her.

Her eyes went serious. "Hija, when will you get over this stupid thing? Just because your father gave you those music tapes - "

" – They're C.D.'s, Mom. C.D.s."

"C.D.s, B.D.s, it does not matter. No woman walks around wearing black around her eyes like she just had been in a boxing match."

"Mom," I groan. "Don't you remember Gabbie, and Alejandro, and Marta back at home? You know all mi amigas (my friends) wore that, too."

"Humph. We're here to make a new start, hija," Mom said firmly. "And that means getting rid of black eyes."

"Whatever, Mom. Fine," I appeased her for the moment. I didn't feel like fighting my mom right now.

"Now," she smiled again, in "that way." "You look so beautiful, darling." Mom stroked my hair. I smiled back at her. I kind of liked this look, too – not the way I like my old look, but in a different way. This was nice, too.

"Mom, did you always think I looked beautiful?" I know I sounded like a simpering little girl in need of an ego-boost, but I had to know.

"Jackie, you always were beautiful. You can dress a swan in crow feathers, but she will always be a swan."

I groaned at that metaphor, but I still smiled happily at her.

Then I leaned forward and hugged her. "I love you, Mom."

PAUL

I bought the No Doubt C.D. over the weekend. As I was about to pull up to the drive way, I saw a sight that sent my pulse up erratically. An ambulance.

Oh my God! I thought, as I dashed into the house, absent-mindedly leaving the parked, but still running.

The medic guys were all over the house. Gramps was strapped to one of those emergency tables.

"One – two – three. Clear!"

Shit.

The medic was trying to get Gramps's heart to start up again.

Not this… not again…