My alarm goes off fifteen minutes early the next morning. I groan and throw my arm over my head, knocking several curlers onto the floor. The sound jabs me awake and I bolt upright, sending the pile of Shadow Man research I’d been working on, sliding off the bed. Today’s the day!
I yank the pink sponges from my hair, leaving a trail all the way to the bathroom. There’s no doubt in my mind that gorgeous, flowing waves of hair, rather than the usual chaotic frizz, will greet me, and I race to the mirror with high hopes—then stare, open-mouthed, at my reflection. It looks like a family of squirrels has moved in. “Nooooo!”
This isn’t hair. This is a situation. “MOM!”
Her hand covers her mouth as she pokes her head in the door. “Oh…”
“What am I gonna do?” I whine, tugging at the brush that’s being swallowed alive.
Mom steps fully into the doorway, calm and measured, assessing the options. She squirts hair gel onto her hands, then works her fingers through the tangles. The straight line of her mouth tells me it’s not doing the job.
“Wait here.” She disappears down the hallway, hopefully to retrieve a magic wand.
“You are a monster, and you’re crazy if you think Amelia Davis will let you into the Peaks looking like this!” I growl into the mirror.
Mom returns and thrusts a package into my hands. “I was saving this for Christmas, but maybe you could use this now.”
Sagging onto the toilet seat, I pull open the bag. Inside is a blue knit beret and matching mittens. I hug them to my chest. “I love it. Thanks.”
The beanie is surprisingly cooperative as we wrestle it down over my head, cramming in fistfuls of out-of-control curls. I take a deep breath and check my reflection.
“Okay,” I shrug. “This is…good. Mostly.” The top looks flatter now; everything below the ears has gone rogue. My hair is not exactly frizzy, but springs of wild coils stick out in every direction. “Is one good hair day too much to ask?”
“Get dressed,” Mom says, squeezing my shoulders. “It’s not that bad. I bet it will relax even more over breakfast. I can always braid it later if you need me to.”
I sigh. Wednesday Addams’ braids would be great—neat and even—straight. Like Amelia’s. Mine, though, would look more like two gnarled twigs somebody shoved behind my ears. “I’ll let you know.”
I drag myself down the hallway toward the clothes I laid out the night before: my best tan corduroys and a navy-and-white striped sweater. It’s not something Amelia Davis would wear, but it makes me feel like I might survive this morning with my dignity intact. Scattered notes fill the rug beside the bed. One picture peaks out from under the spread. The cabin—where I’m meeting the Peaks—tonight.
Mom waits for me downstairs with a brush in one hand and a curling iron in the other.
“You’re going to make it even curlier?” The whine in my voice sounds a bit like Lincoln Loud.
“Let’s try to redefine the curl with some heat. It can’t hurt.” She gestures toward the stool.
By the time she’s done, it looks less like a small tornado hit my head, and more like an overexcited poodle.
“Thanks, Mom, you’re the best.” I hug her—tight. If she knew about the initiation tonight, she’d never let me go, and the plans I’ve made while they’re away leave a bad taste—like medicine disguised as chocolate.
After I board the bus, I fumble in my pocket for the lipstick stolen from Mom’s cosmetic drawer. I’m not allowed to wear makeup until I turn fourteen, but Mom uses this to color her cheeks sometimes when she doesn’t want to bother with serious makeup. On each cheek, over each eyelid, and down my nose, I press circles into my skin, and even though I don’t have a mirror, I’m pretty sure it looks amazing, or at least noticeable.
Outside the bus window, buildings blur by; the images morphing together. I swipe at my eyes to stop my mind from obcessing over tonight and the cabin’s connection to the Shadow Man.
The bus pulls to the curb to pick up another load of kids, and I straighten my back, wondering if Stuart will notice. He pauses at my seat and stares. The look on his face tells me he’s completely shocked at my transformation from a Coder to a Peak in just twenty-four hours.
“What did you do?”
My stomach tighten, but I lift my chin, anyway. “I’ve added a bit of color to my cheeks, that’s all.”
Pulling off his glove, he lowers himself into the seat like he's afraid I'll bite.
“What’re you doing?!” I slap his hand away. How dare he touch my face.
“Don’t you think you should smear it around a little? You look like the McDonald’s clown.”
“What would you know about applying makeup?” Who does he think he is? “I watch my mom do it all the time.” I say, taking a swipe at each cheek. Now that I think of it, she does sort of rub it in…
He shrugs, but doesn’t look away. “Why are you bothering with that, anyway? You’re fine the way you are.” He shifts in his seat. “Darcie, what’s going on?”
Tilting my chin up the way Amelia Davis does, I sniff, “I’m glad you asked. Because after today, I won’t be joining you at lunch anymore. I resign from the Coders—I’ll be eating with the Peaks beginning tomorrow—maybe even today.”
He raises an eyebrow.
Keeping my gaze straight ahead and my voice low so it stays just between us, I say, “I received an invitation to an initiation ceremony today after school. The Peaks want me in their group.” I turn slightly, just enough to catch my reflection in the window. The glass warps my face, but the color stands out darker than I expected. I rub my cheeks some more. “Amelia herself handed me the invitation yesterday during math class.”
“I should have known,” Stuart groans. “The probability of a bona fide invitation to join the Peaks, coming right after you fell on your face in front of them, is less than zero. Where are they holding this so-called initiation?”
“It isn’t ‘so-called’, and it’s a secret.” I shift my body to face him. Lines of worry crease his forehead. For a second, I almost tell him everything. “Don’t worry. I told my mom all about it,” I lie, a little too quickly. “She even helped me fix my hair this morning for the occasion.”
He shakes his head. “Promise me you’ll be careful. You’re not like those girls, Darcie—they’re mean, and you’re…not.” He holds both of my arms, bringing his face close. “Things go wrong when you mix stuff that doesn't belong together.”
I drop my gaze to the floor. “It’s what I want, Stuart. You and me? We’ll still be friends…I just. I need to know that I’ll never be picked on again.” I wait for a beat before glancing back up. “Stuart?”
“Yeah?”
“We’re sure the Shadow Man is just misunderstood—he isn’t dangerous, right?”
When I get to math class, I decide to choose a desk closer to the center of the room—closer to the Peaks. I slide into the seat just in front of Amelia’s. She’s not here yet, but some of her friends are. Is it my imagination, or has the chatter around me slowed? Silence pounds, pricking my eardrums. I turn my head and offer a hesitant smile.
One girl—Chrystal, glares at me. She flips her hair and leans forward, staring at me until I look away, flicking my head back to center. Maybe this was a mistake.
When Amelia enters, the breath I was holding breaks free in a ragged exhale. I straighten my back. “Hi Amelia.”
She looks at me like I have food stuck in my teeth. For one panicked second I wonder if I brushed them this morning—or do I still look like the McDonald’s clown? Why didn’t I stop in the restroom first? I pull my lips over my braces and casually swipe at my cheeks.
“Why have you changed seats, Darcie? The initiation isn’t until tonight.” She waves a hand toward my usual seat. “Patience.”
I scramble back to the front of the room, ears ringing with the sound of silence. Maybe Stuart was right. I take a quick peek at Amelia, who gives me a wink—slow and knowing. A tight knot forms beneath my ribs. Is she…proud of me? Testing me? I can’t tell for sure, but I’m choosing to believe it’s good. Everything’s fine, I tell myself. This is just part of the process.
At lunch, I don’t make the same mistake twice. You’re not a Peak until you are a Peak. Got it. I get my lunch and head for Stuart, but will he even let me sit there after what I said this morning? When I get to the table, he grins and pulls out my chair, just like always.
All throughout lunch, my gaze keeps flicking toward the Peak table. Amelia’s high-pitched laugh is somewhat irritating, and that surprises me. She’s surrounded by boys, of course, all trying to get her attention. Every time one of them says something, she throws her head back, laughing and clapping her hands, or swatting one of them on the arm. They’re eating it up.
“She’s not really all that impressive, Darcie.” Stuart says. “Her output doesn’t match the hype. I’d take you over her any day.”
For a moment, I’m completely stunned. My face goes hot. No one has ever said anything like that to me before.
Shrill laughter shatters the moment, and the bell rings. Stuart’s words fade from my mind as the cafeteria empties. Nothing really happens the rest of the day, or maybe it's just that life happens around me while I obsess about how I’m going to make it to the cabin without getting caught.