The Art of Getting Stared At by Laura Langston Page B

this is about. I’m nothing like Kim and I never will be.” And thank God for that.
    She puts the beret back. “That’s why you dress like a slob.”
    Her words suck the oxygen out of me. “I don’t dress likea slob. My clothes are never ripped. They’re always clean. I shave my pits. I wear deodor—”
    She shakes her head. “I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to figure it out. You go out of your way to be plain because Kim goes out of her way to primp.”
    My palms are suddenly sweaty. I rub them against my jeans. “Don’t be stupid. It has nothing to do with Kim. I refuse to obsess about my looks. I never have and I never will.” Losing my hair is different. Anybody would freak over that. No girl wants to be bald.
    â€œRight.” She laughs. “You obsess just like the rest of us. Only you obsess about being different.”
    If she only knew.
    â€œI’m telling you, Sloane, if you buy a hat and the rest of
    you looks like shit, people will stare for all the wrong reasons. You need to look halfway decent for the video.”
    She’s right. I hadn’t thought of it because I hadn’t wanted to think about being in front of the camera. “So help me find a hat and I’ll look at jeans.”
    â€œ Buy jeans. And some blush.”
    â€œLook.”
    Lexi crosses her arms and glares at me.
    â€œOkay, fine. Buy.” I reach for a tweedy plum fedora with a tiny froth of feathers tucked into a wide black ribbon. “What about this one?”

Eight
    M andee is standing by the water fountain when I walk into school Wednesday morning. “You look different,” she says.
    My heart plummets. The only new thing I’m wearing is the hat. Everything else Lexi insisted I buy is on my bedroom floor. What looked good in the store mirror looked terrible in mine.
    â€œIt’s the new hat.” I tilt my head. “You like it?”
    Mandee straightens and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “It’s not just the hat. It’s something else.”
    My stomach muscles clench. I lost a crap ton more hair in the shower this morning. The spot above my neck is bigger. And the “maybe it is, maybe it isn’t” spot on my crown is more noticeable too. But you can’t tell while I’m wearing the hat. I checked. “No other changes,” I lie. “I’m still me.”
    â€œI dunno, Sloane.” She peers into my face. “It’s like you’re trying to be pretty or something.”
    I laugh. “No.” I don’t do pretty. That was obvious half an hour ago when I tried on the new super skinny jeans Lexipicked out. I looked like a try-hard. A wannabe member of the Bathroom Brigade. “I just bought a new hat, that’s all.”
    Plus two pairs of jeans, four tops, a pair of leather shoes, and some designer hairspray that’s supposed to work for sensitive, damaged hair. At the price I paid, it better keep the rest of my hair on my head too.
    Mandee looks at my feet and smiles. “At least you’re still wearing those ugly black boots.”
    I smile back. “Yep.” My feet aren’t the problem here. Or so I think until Lexi confronts me at my locker a few minutes later.
    â€œWhy are you still wearing those ugly black boots? What happened to the turquoise ballerina flats we picked out?” She eyes my old jeans like they’re radioactive. “And I thought you were going to wear the new jeans and that pretty tulip cardigan today?”
    I spin my combination. “I have a busy day remember? Isaac and I are scouting at the Embarcadero and then shooting at the zoo. I wanted to be comfortable.”
    â€œYou’re not even wearing that blush I bought for you. You need to try harder.”
    That’s harsh. I whirl to face her. “And you need to drop it.”
    Hurt flashes in her dark eyes. “Fine.” She crosses her