The Nerd Girl

Chapter Four

So, with a deep breath, I settle with the phrase, "Make me... different."

"Different how?" Penelope presses, and I feel like strangling her. I'm already trying to muster up enough confidence to even show my face back at school again, and she's not helping with all of these questions. She seems to notice my discomfort, because Penelope chuckles, "How about we start with something easier; what don't you like about your appearance?"

"Everything," I mumble. "My hair is frizzy, my eyes are boring, my skin is pale, my body is plain... There's absolutely nothing spectacular about me."

"I don't think so." Penelope says immediately, folding her arms over her chest as though preparing for an argument of sorts. "Your hair is curly; do you have any idea how many girls would die for ringlets like those? People have to pay for contact lenses that color, and you've got them for free—I'm sure that counts for something, after all. And, you know, everyone is tan these days, maybe you could sport the whole 'pale look.'" She elaborates.

I roll my eyes in irritation. "Danny told you to convince me, didn't he, Penelope?"

She looks taken aback at my abruptness for a second, but that's quickly replaced with a guilty expression. She laughs awkwardly, "Uh, kind of. I'm sorry... He just really doesn't want you to change."

"Well, I do. So, go ahead. Best of luck."

She giggles, obviously impressed with my courage. "First, we're going to tackle that skin you don't like. I can help with that tan you want. I've got just the thing."

I smile and stand up, following Penelope into a connected room. She throws open the door, and I find myself in the midst of a sauna-type setting. I can see a row of tanning beds, and shelves upon shelves of various shades of spray-on tan. The floor is pristine white tile, slippery even underneath my sneakers, and I guess, judging by the clean color, that the tanning takes place in a different area.

"Er, what should I use?" I murmur, cheeks heating with humiliation at the thought of not knowing what to do now.

"Any of these," Penelope says easily. "If you're okay with it, you can slip into one of the tanning beds. If not, I think the spray is for you."

"I don't know..." I trail off.

"Go ahead and use the spray." Penelope instructs kindly. "It's not as suffocating."

Penelope picks a bottle of tan off the shelf and hands it to me. She points another door to the side and shoos me in. It's a shower-like room, each of the walls covered with pattered tiles. Nodding at Penelope's explanation, I slowly strip out of my clothes and place them outside of the shower room. I patiently read the instructions on the back of the bottle, then swallow the lump in my throat, and begin to squirt it onto myself.

The nasty, sticky liquid spurts on me, covering my arms and legs. I push down harder on the nozzle and squint my eyes when a smoother rush of spray shoots out of it. The stuff coats my entire body, turning it a weird shade of orange.

When I'm done with the stuff, I lean against one of the corners, waiting for an hour to pass.

. . .

As soon as I'm done showering, I dry myself with one of the fluffy white towels from the pile by the door. I pull my jeans back on, my AC/DC t-shirt and black jacket following shortly. I push the sleeves up to my elbows, and grin when I see that a cool tan has conquered the once pasty skin.

Nice.

I push open the door and search around for Penelope. I find her resting on a stylish blue couch against the wall, texting away on her touch phone. When I stand in front of her, she looks up at me. A proud smile instantly stretches across her pretty face and she nods in approval.