Destiny Date by Melody James Page A

Jupiter.
    Treacle’s eyes light on something else. She shoves the dragon costume back and grabs a lump of yellow foam.
    ‘SpongeBob!’ she squeals, holding it up.
    Snorting, I picture Jessica Jupiter in square pants. ‘Only if you join me as Patrick.’
    Treacle spits with laughter. ‘Do you think we can persuade Cindy to be Mr Krabs?’
    ‘Stop it!’ I wave Treacle away as I imagine Cindy with big lobster claws.
    ‘Ooh, what about this one?’ She’s found a rainbow clown costume. Long floppy shoes are dangling around its neck.
    ‘Jessica could be Ronald McDonald.’ I grab a red curly wig from the top of the rack. ‘I won’t need this,’ I giggle, pointing at my hair. An idea clangs in my head.
‘I must have
clown
genes!’
    Treacle lifts one of the shoes and points sadly at my feet. ‘Not big enough.’
    ‘Come on.’ I take the clown costume, re-rack it and steer Treacle away. ‘Let’s find a riding costume before we have Jessica dressed like a birthday cake.’
    A thousand and one costumes later, we find something even better than jodhpurs. It’s a full riding habit with a long hitched skirt for riding side-saddle. I take one look at it as Treacle
holds it up and clap my hands. ‘That is
so
Jessica Jupiter!’
    ‘Try it on!’ She shoves it into my arms and starts herding me towards the dressing room.
    I wriggle into the costume. For the first time I can imagine this might be fun. When I see myself in the mirror, I’m pleased. I look even less like a fourteen-year-old schoolgirl than when
I was Radical.
    ‘I’ve found a wig!’ Treacle bursts in. She’s twirling it on her finger. It’s black and silky, a short bobbed style.
    ‘Who’d you scalp?’ I imagine the shopkeeper weeping, bald, beside the till.
    ‘Put it on!’ Treacle orders and, as I do my best to cram the wig over my curls, Treacle pulls the dressage hat out of the Coleman Brothers bag. She balances it on top. It’s not
the finished look, but my reflection in the mirror is impressive. The veil obscures my face and the riding gear is nothing like anything I’d wear.
    ‘Star-ling!’ I lower my voice into a husky drawl, pretending to be Jessica. ‘Venus is rising. Pluto is in the house of the rising sun. This is no time to be
yourself.’
    Treacle stares at me in the mirror. ‘You
have
to do that voice,’ she squeaks. ‘It’s perfect!’
    ‘Really?’ I look at her eagerly.
    ‘Absolutely.’
    I scramble back into my street clothes and we pile the costume onto the counter.
    The shopkeeper smiles at us from behind it. He’s ninety-six years old and looks like a pixie. ‘Buying or hiring?’ he asks.
    ‘Hiring, please,’ I tell him.
    He lifts up the habit. ‘Do you want riding boots too?’ he asks.
    ‘You have
boots
?’ I ask excitedly.
    ‘With spurs if you like.’ He ducks out from behind the counter and leads us to a far corner of the shop where a million shoes are lined up in rows. He leans forward and plucks out a
pair of tall leather riding boots.
    ‘What size are they?’ I ask.
    He checks the bottom. ‘Six.’
    ‘Perfect,’ I grin.
    Treacle cocks her head. ‘Gemma wants to look
different
,’ she ventures. ‘Like she’s someone else.’
    ‘A disguise?’ the man asks.
    Treacle and I exchange glances.
    ‘Yes,’ I tell him.
    ‘You’ll need prosthetics,’ the man says.
    ‘Oh.’ I have no idea what he’s talking about.
    ‘Let me show you,’ he offers.
    He takes us back to the counter and lifts a tray from underneath. It’s lined with noses.
    Treacle bursts out laughing. ‘Do they ever get colds?’
    I’ve never seen anything so weird. There are pointy noses, warty noses, bulbous noses and skinny noses. ‘That one.’ I point at a perfect pink nose, slightly turned up at the
end.
    The man peels it off the tray and lets me try it on. He drags a mirror along the counter for me. I peer in.
    My humble fourteen-year-old nose is transformed into a haughty snout. ‘What do you think?’ I ask