Christy Miller Collection Vol 4 Part 11

"What do you mean?"

"What else would make me more attractive? I mean, I'm not stupid. I know I'm not the kind of guy a girl like you would be interested in, no matter how much I hope and dream that I could have a girlfriend like you someday."

"Fred-"

"Don't worry. I'm not trying to compete with your boyfriend like I said I was at the beginning of school. I've given it a lot of thought. I'm not your kind of guy, and I know that. What I guess I'm trying to ask is, how can I improve myself so that I could one day attract a girl like you.

Christy felt awkward. "I'm not sure. Fred."

"Yes, you are. You know what girls like in a guy. Pretend you're my big sister. What would you tell me? I mean. I'm a senior, for Pete's sake, and I've never been on a date, never even called a girl without her hanging up on me. Could you sort of give me a crash course in self-improvement?"

Christy wasn't sure how to respond. No one had ever asked her anything like this before. Still, Fred was sincere, and he really did have a lot of potential. She realized that since his dad left when he was nine, he probably didn't have any strong male role models.

"Well, you might want to try doing something different with your hair."

"Like a haircut?"

"Sure. Why don't you go to one of those places that advertises styling your hair for what looks best on you and ask them to do whatever they think would look good on you."

Fred's expression brightened. "That's a great idea! My mom's been cutting my hair ever since I was a kid. Maybe it's time for a change."

"Sure." Christy said enthusiastically, "let your mom have a little break. Ask them to show you how to style your hair while you're there. You know, you don't need a lot of hair spray or anything."

"I use my mom's gel."

"You might want to pick up some of your own hair care products too. They might even have a line for men, which would be good, because you don't exactly need the same stuff on your hair that someone, say, with a perm would need."

"This is great, Christy! You don't know how much I appreciate this. Maybe you'd like to come with me? We could go today right after school. You can tell the stylist what you think looks good on me."

"I have to work right after school, Fred. But thanks for asking."

"At the pet store at the mall, right? Not a problem. I'll come in afterward and show you the transformation."

"Don't you have to go to the football game and take pictures?"

"Not a problem. I'll ask one of the other people on the staff to go this week. I would certainly think the future of my image is more important than a few football photos. I've deprived myself too long. The time has come to take bold steps!"

In a way Christy wanted to laugh at Fred. He was acting so exuberant, yet all she had done was suggest he do something normal with his hair. She could tell it meant an awful lot to him though. And she was kind of curious to see how it all turned out.

Even though she wouldn't admit it to Jon or anyone else that evening at work, Christy was glad when she saw Fred pop into the pet store. Only he looked exactly the same. No transformation of any kind had taken place.

"Take one last look at the old Fred," he said when he approached the counter where Christy stood behind the cash register. "In an hour I will return, and you won't even recognize me."

"Have fun!" Christy said cheerfully as Fred waved and left the store.

A little more than an hour later. Fred returned right when Christy was getting ready to go on her fifteen-minute break. She planned to run down to the yogurt shop. Jon had said earlier that they had Bavarian chocolate raspberry, which was one of Christy's favorites. Fred, however, had other plans.

"Well, what do you think?" Fred turned around slowly, showing off his very stylish haircut. It was the first time Christy had ever seen him without a lot of goop on his hair. The color had changed from a greasy margarine shade of yellow to a light blond. Along with the new hairstyle, the transformation made him look nice.

"It looks great! Fred, I like it. How do you like it?"

"I feel like a different person! And I have you to thank for making the suggestion. Now I need your advice on a shirt. They're holding it for me. When do you take a break? I'd really like your opinion."

Christy hesitated but then agreed. "I have a few minutes right now, if you promise it won't take very long."

"Not a problem. It's two doors down, and they're holding it at the front register." Fred headed out the door and waited for Christy to join him.

Jon exchanged places with Christy at the register. She began to explain where she was going.

"I heard," Jon said. Then in a lower voice he added, "If they're on sale, talk him into a couple new shirts. Looks like his wardrobe could use a boost."

Christy hurried to join Fred. For the next fifteen minutes he directed her through the contemporary clothing store, pointing out an entire wardrobe of shirts, sweaters, pants, and even socks, asking Christy's opinion on everything.

"I really need to get back," Christy said. "I'm sure you can make these decisions on your own, Fred."

"Not a problem," Fred said. "I'm pretty sure I remember all the ones you liked best. You've helped me more than you'll ever know. Thanks, Christy."

"You're welcome, Fred. Oh, and if any of them are on sale, maybe you should get two. That's some advice a friend gave me."

"Good advice. I'll be back over to show you my final choices. Thanks again!"

Christy could have antic.i.p.ated Jon's teasing reaction when she returned to her station behind the counter. "Perhaps you should consider fashion consulting," Jon said without looking up from the register where he was ringing up a subtotal. "Might pay more than pet store wages."

"All right, get all your jokes out now. I was only trying to be helpful. The guy asked me for my opinion."

"Let's face it, Christy. If you've discovered a natural flair for fashion consulting, perhaps we should consider opening a booth here for poodle owners. We'll supply you with swatches of colored yarn, and you can advise which color of puppy sweaters would look best on their little poodles."

Christy knew this was particularly funny to Jon because, even though he loved all kinds of animals, his respect for poodles had slipped through a crack. Jon thought all poodles were a freak of nature and not worthy to even be called dogs, let alone members in good standing in the animal kingdom.

"You know, it might help promote some business, Jon," Christy said. "It would be especially delightful for me to see long lines of customers in our store with each of them holding a poodle. Lots and lots of poodles. Yes, that's what this store needs. We could put a sign in the window: "We Cater to Poodles."

A sly grin stretched across Jon's lips. "I'm going on a break. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Christy hoped Fred would pop in and out during the time Jon was gone, but Fred didn't show up. Jon still had his little grin on his face when he returned, and his hands were behind his back.

Trying to sound stern, Jon said, "Now I want you to take this, go in the back, and get busy marking all those jars of fish food. Don't come back up front until it's done." Then he produced from behind his back a large plastic cup from the yogurt shop bulging with a mountain of her favorite: Bavarian chocolate raspberry.

"Oh, if I must," Christy said with a sigh, accepting Jon's thoughtful gift. "You really are too hard on me, you know. You keep treating me like this-" Christy held up the yogurt for emphasis-"and I might think you're afraid I'll quit on you one day."

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of." Then snapping back to his teasing, Jon ordered, "Now get to work!"

Christy had just spooned the first mouthful of yogurt onto her tongue when she heard Jon say, "Sure, you can go see her. She's in the back."

A moment later, Fred-the new, improved Fred-stepped into the back room, decked out in a stylish outfit. Christy quickly swallowed the yogurt, nearly choking on it, and said. "Fred, you look great!"

"You like it? This was the blue shirt you liked. I bought it in green too."

Fred truly had gone through a transformation. Now standing before her was a nice-looking, stylish guy. She knew this was a breakthrough for him, and in a way she felt pleased with herself for helping in the metamorphosis.

"I owe it all to you, Christy." Fred said enthusiastically.

Just then Christy heard Jon say, "Go on back. Christy is receiving all her guests in the back parlor this evening."

Before she could turn her head, Fred, in his exuberance, threw his arms around her and said. "You'll never know how much you mean to me, Christy!"

Startled by the hug, Christy pulled away and turned to see Doug standing behind her with Jon right behind him.

"Hi." Christy turned to greet Doug. She could feel her cheeks burning. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh-oh." Fred took a step backward. "Is that brick wall your boyfriend?"

"Only in my dreams," Doug said.

"Oh, you too?" Fred relaxed his posture and extending his arm to offer Doug a handshake. "I'm Fred."

"Doug." Doug returned the handshake. "I should mention, in all fairness though that Christy's boyfriend is my best friend. He's the brick wall you should be worried about."

Christy couldn't believe this was happening. Did Doug think something was going on between her and Fred? He wouldn't say anything to Todd, would he?

"Fred is on the school yearbook staff with me," Christy said, hoping Doug would forget he ever saw Fred hugging her. "He was here doing some shopping and stopped by to see me."

Fred beamed a crooked-tooth smile at Doug. "She's transformed me into a new person!"

At that moment, Christy had to admit that Fred's transformation didn't seem too evident. He still had the same personality and the same way of grinning so close to your face that it made you want to turn away.

"New hairstyle, new clothes." Fred stretched out his arms for them to get a full view. A price tag still hung from the inside of the right sleeve. "I'm a brand-new me."

"Looks like you're still 30 percent off, buddy," Christy heard Jon say. She wasn't sure if Jon was referring to the price tag or making a subtle hint to Fred that he still was a little bit off.

Picking up a box knife, Jon sliced through the plastic line on the price tag and handed it to Fred. "You know, this price tag reminds me of something. Now what was it? Does it happen to remind you of anything, Christy?"

"As a matter of fact, it does. The fish food. I'll get right at it, Jon."

Jon smiled at the guys and said, "Fish food. I know it's a rather demeaning task for our oh-so-popular fashion consultant. But the truth of the matter is I pay her to do this sort of thing."

Jon made his remark in a light voice, which made Christy feel relieved. Still, she knew that even though he was easygoing, he could get upset when there was a lot of work to do or if he was short on staff. She also knew it hadn't helped that she had asked to have next Sat.u.r.day off. Jon had given it to her even though he hadn't hired anyone to take her place.

"Not a problem," Fred said. "I need to get going anyway. I saw a sale sign in the window at the Foot Locker. I'd better buy a pair of shoes now before I add up how much money I've spent. I might end up looking for a job labeling fish food too to pay for my new image!"

Christy and Jon exchanged glances. The thought flashed across Christy's mind that if Jon hired Fred it wouldn't be a problem for her to get Sat.u.r.days off permanently. Jon's look clearly said, "Don't even think about it!"

Picking up the sheet of already-marked price stickers, Christy began to affix them to the little round containers of fish food. Jon returned to the front, Fred bustled out with his packages, but Doug remained.

"Want some help?"

"Sure, thanks, Doug. You want some of my frozen yogurt?" She knew that was a pointless question. Doug loved to eat anytime, anywhere, any kind of food. Of course he would like some of her yogurt.

Good thing I took a spoonful when I did!.

Christy was about to ask Doug what he was doing there when a voice with a familiar accent called through the doorway, "Excuse me, but is your name Doug?"

Christy recognized Michael right away and then realized that Michael and Doug had never met. Why would Michael be looking for Doug?

"Yes, I'm Doug."

"And is it true that you were houseboating on Lake Shasta over Labor Day weekend?" Michael looked serious.

"Yes." Doug glanced at Christy for some explanation as to why this stranger would know they had gone houseboating.

Before Christy could let Doug know who Michael was, Michael continued with his volume escalating. "Are you the one who went Wave Riding with my little sister, Natalie?"

"Well. I...yes, I did go Wave Riding with Natalie, but..."

"Then put up your fists, man. I've come to defend my sister's honor." Michael played the part of an enraged Irishman in such a convincing manner that for a moment Christy forgot this must all be a joke.

Then she caught a glimpse of Katie hiding behind a bird cage, with her hand over her mouth. Katie seemed to be enjoying this immensely. Christy knew then that this was Katie's sweet revenge on Doug for the bop on the nose.

Doug had lifted his clenched fists to defend himself from the advancing, fiery-faced Michael. "Honest, man, I didn't do anything! Natalie and I went Jet Skiing. That's all! I'm telling you the truth!"

"That's not the story I heard from Natalie. She was a sweet, innocent wee la.s.s until she met the likes of you! Men like you need to be taught a lesson, and I'm just the one to do it."

Michael's fists were up, and he was in a boxing stance. With a swing of his right arm, slicing the air between them, Michael showed Doug he meant business.

Doug looked flabbergasted. "I'm telling you, nothing happened!" Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead.

Christy wanted to break up the whole scene before it went too far. Her idea of a joke and Katie's idea were quite different.

"Wait," Christy said, stepping forward, prepared to explain everything to Doug.

Just then Michael took another staged swing at Doug. Doug, in an involuntary reaction to Michael's swing, lifted his right forearm to block the blow. Instead, he connected with Christy's jaw and knocked her to the floor.

"Christy, are you all right?" Doug dropped to her side and gently touched her jaw.

"Oww," was all she could say. It was more of a groan than a word, since her mouth felt too numb to form any accurate sounds. Her eyelids felt like they weighed a hundred pounds each. Although she could hear everything going on around her, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't open her eyes.

"She's unconscious!" Katie squealed. "Doug, what did you do?"

"Katie!" Doug shouted. "Where did you come from?"

"She's with me," Michael said. "We saw you coming into the pet store, and we thought we'd have a bit of a go-round with you. Didn't count on this. Can you hear my voice, Christy? Can you open your eyes?"

She could hear Michael as clear as could be. but her eyelids refused to cooperate. "Ohh." was the only sound she could form with her mouth.

"What happened?" Now it was Jon's voice. She knew he would be ticked off with all the goofing around. She wouldn't blame him if he got so upset that he fired her. She felt certain this whole thing was her fault. The thought made her cry. Tears slid from under her closed eyelids, and Christy had no power to stop them.

"Look, she's crying!" Katie sounded panicked. "You guys, we'd better call 911!"

"Christy," Doug and Jon called her name at the same time. She could feel a strong hand lifting her head and someone else dabbing a tissue at the tears chasing down her cheeks. Then, as if the lock on her eyelids had been released, she was able to slowly open her eyes.