Take My Advice

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

After I went to the hospital and half-heartedly chewed Bruce out for sending his friends after Scotty, I felt a little better. I couldn't be too mad at him—his actions had been sweet, although horribly misguided. Then I concentrated on feeling things out, seeing how I felt.

Amanda and Ethan were pretty tight. I didn't see any signs of an impending breakup. Did that mean I was supposed to tell Dylan how I felt, or not? It was all too confusing.

In the meantime, I became hyper aware of every single thing Dylan said, did, ate, wore . . . I was stalking him in my brain and couldn't figure out how to stop. It was embedded in my memory that he wore his blue shirt on Tuesday, the one that made his eyes pop. They weren't quite as poppy as Colby's, but that was all right. They were poppy in their own way. And on Wednesday, he drank chocolate milk. See? Stalking him. Stalking him!

As time went by and we became more and more invested in the play, I became more invested in him. All these hours we were spending together couldn't be good for me. It was getting to the point where if I went a weekend without seeing him, I'd have withdrawals.

Finally, it was the week of the play, so we were putting in more rehearsal hours than ever before. I wondered if Dylan had any idea what was going on inside me. He seemed the same as always—laughing, easygoing, relaxed. I, on the other hand, was a big ball of stupid nerves.

After practice that Wednesday, he pulled me aside back stage. "Can I talk to you for a minute, Jill?"

"Um, sure." What did he want? Something good? Something bad? What?

He reached out and took my hand, much like Gilbert took Anne's. My heart leaped up into my throat. "Listen, Jill. I know you're stressed about the play, but you're going to do great. You really are. You're a natural. I've never seen anyone take to the stage like you have. You've just gotta believe in yourself, okay? Loosen up. Have fun with it. Just imagine me off stage pulling silly faces at you the whole time, okay?"

I giggled, more as a release of tension than anything. "Pulling faces at me?"

"Yeah. Like this." He stuck out his tongue and demonstrated. "It's all going to be okay."

"Thanks, Dylan. Yeah, I think this is going to be a really good play."

"Of course it is. We're the leads. They can't possibly go wrong." He nudged me with his elbow. "You gonna be all right?"

I inhaled. "I think so. Yes."

"Okay. Now let's go get some rest so we can do it all again tomorrow."

Right after school the next day and before our evening's practice, I had an appointment with Shauna next door to get my hair colored. She had been a stylist years before, and I figured she was my best bet. I had to be a redhead, and a good one, for cheap. I couldn't afford one of those fancy-schmancy salons. I took Amanda with me, and we made ourselves comfy at Shauna's kitchen table.

"Have a snack," she urged while she draped a towel around my shoulders, and then a cape. I didn't mind if I did—she'd placed a whole plate of chocolate chip cookies within arm's reach, and they smelled delicious.

What did not smell delicious was the hair dye. As soon as she began to apply it, I was gasping and wheezing. Amanda got up to open the windows, and then the back door. Nothing we did got rid of the smell.

"This is just part of the pains we take to be beautiful," Shauna said. "The smell will fade away in a couple of days."

"If I live that long," I said, my eyes watering.