The Nerd Girl

Chapter Four

> for starlightt, bc not only is she the cutest thing ever, but i swear december is one of the most inspirational wattpad books i've ever read.

> "People think you're like a car in a body shop. You go in, they fix you, and you're out. It doesn't work like that. It takes constant fixing." - Demi Lovato

F O U R

- Amara -

"Come on, you'll be fine," Danny urges, gently pulling me down the hall behind him.

I can't find enough voice to answer, so I just chew on the inside of my cheek, stumbling along after Danny. He did promise me that if I wanted to be more popular, he would "help me with it." He said that if I really, truly want to look like Dillon and the other girls at school, then he'll set it all up for me.

Well, I really, truly want to look like Dillon and the other girls at school.

So, now, here I am, at his old babysitter's fashion studio. I shuffle down the long, artfully decorated corridor, glancing vaguely at the pictures that have been framed up on either side. Most of them are of an attractive brunette woman beaming at the camera, her arms burdened with some sort of plaque or award. My guess is that she's the one who will be making me over, and if all of the recognition she's gotten for her work is any indication, she ought to be very good at her job.

"In here, Amara," Danny says, tugging on my wrist until I realize that he's addressing me.

Grinning sheepishly, I follow him into the adjacent room, which seems like a movie star's private trailer—complete with one of those director's chairs situated in front of a huge, arch mirror. Standing at the vanity, examining her reflection, is the same woman from all of the pictures; same wavy brown hair, same bright blue eyes, same hundred-watt smile. She opens her arms expectantly, and I frown, unsure of whether to accept her embrace or not. But before I have to embarrass myself, Danny envelopes her into an aggressive bear hug.

"Hello, Amara," she greets me warmly, clasping my hand in hers. "I'm Penelope, but I'm sure Daniel already told you that. Anyway, I'm going to be your stylist—but, of course, you knew that, too." She laughs airily, and I get the distinct feeling that she's exclusively aware of just how fabulous a person she is. And judging by the certificates scattered around her room, she also loves to know how successful she's been in her career.

"Hi, Penelope," I stammer nervously.

"She's a little nervous." Danny speaks my thoughts, and I sigh internally. It's probably lucky that Danny's here with me, otherwise Penelope would think I was some sort of antisocial weirdo. "Just assure her that she's in good care here."

"You are, Amara, I swear." Penelope insists, her grin somehow intensifying in both glamour and sincerity. "Now, I'll need you, Daniel, to leave. And, Amara," she turns back to me, flinging her silky tresses off of her shoulder swiftly, "we can get right to it."

Danny nods to Penelope, but takes my forearm. He carefully pulls me aside, gesturing for Penelope to give us another moment alone. Once we're safely in the corner, and out of his old babysitter's earshot, he lets out a gust of air.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asks me, putting a hand to my waist.

I bite my bottom lip. "I kind of have to, Danny."

He rakes his fingers through his dirty blond hair, sucking in a breath through clenched teeth. "You don't have to. You don't have to change to look like one of those girls. You're beautiful." There's something in his tone that makes me wonder whether there's something more to what he's saying than just friendly intentions.