The Art of Getting Stared At by Laura Langston Page A

push through the doors at Anthropologie. “For our laughter video.”
    While Lexi heads off to collect her check, I wander through the clothes until I find the hats. When she returns a few minutes later, I’m trying on a brown pageboy with a fine weave of yellow and rust silk around the brim.
    Lexi meets my gaze in the mirror. “What is up with you and hats all of a sudden?”
    Alopecia is what’s up. I stare at my reflection. It actually looks okay. And it comes down far enough on both sides of my head to cover the spots. “Since I have to do this laughter flash mob thing, I think it’s time for a new look.” I struggle to keep my tone casual. “I’m getting another hat.”
    â€œYou can’t.” Lexi plucks the pageboy off my head and puts it back on the shelf.
    I’m so stunned it takes me a few seconds to realize a chunk of spray-encrusted hair is out of place and one of my spots is showing. Quickly I cover it up. “What do you mean, I can’t?”
    â€œYou aren’t a hat person.” Lexi grabs a newsboy cap in a pale blue houndstooth and wiggles it onto her head. She twists from side to side, studying her image in the mirror. “They don’t really suit your face.”
    My nerves jangle. I hadn’t expected resistance. At least not from Lexi. “A good salesperson could find the right hat to suit my face.” I survey the store. “I’ll go talk to Tannis.”
    Lexi whirls around. “Tannis has terrible taste. You know that.”
    I also know Tannis racks up the most sales of any part-timer and Lexi is trying desperately to catch up. I shrug. “Yeah. Well. I’m getting a hat. Either I pick it out or I have help. And if you won’t help me ...” I let my voice trail away.
    â€œA hat isn’t enough.” She eyes my baggy jeans and beige hoodie. “You need a do-over, Sloane. New clothes, proper makeup.”
    â€œNow you sound like Kim.”
    â€œKim’s right.”
    Heat hits the back of my neck. “I don’t think so.”
    Her eyes widen. “Whoa! Don’t take my head off.” She puts the cap down and picks up a white beret.
    I study the hats in front of me, wondering which one will do the magical trick of hiding my secret. “Then don’t turn me into a statistic.”
    She stares at me like I just beamed in from Mars. “What are you talking about?”
    â€œStatistics show most women under twenty-five spendmore time worrying about makeup and clothes than watching the news.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œI have way more depth than that.” I don’t have time for makeup and clothes. I don’t have time for my hair either. At least I didn’t until I started losing it.
    Lexi tilts her head to the left, examining the fit of the beret. “That’s just stupid.”
    â€œNo, it’s not.” I pick up a leopard print cloche and turn it from side to side. It’s kind of out there. Especially with the bright pink ribbon. I put it back down. “We all have one bit of weirdness.” When she doesn’t answer, I lean close and whisper, “Some of us would walk around in mummy bandages all year if they could.”
    She giggles. But after a minute, she says, “Come on, Sloane. You said yourself you’ve got the laughter flash mob to lead and everybody will be staring at you. It only makes sense to make the best of what you’ve got. I don’t see what the big deal is about wearing a bit of makeup.”
    â€œI wear lip gloss. I even put on mascara this morning.” At least I tried to. It’s not my fault the stuff in the tube had hardened into a lump. “Just because I don’t bathe in makeup like Kim.”
    â€œThat’s what this is about, isn’t it? You don’t want to turn into your stepmother.”
    For a second I can’t speak. I finally manage to say, “No, that’s not what