What I Saw and How I Lied Read Online Free PDF Page A

wallflowers, one of the ones a teacher would muscle a boy to ask to dance. Here, I could be anybody. Here, I didn't have to be me.
    I opened my closet door.
    Gloom. What I needed was tulle and net and petticoats and shoes dyed to match my dress. I had cotton dresses and white anklets and saddle shoes.
    What I needed, of course, was a fairy godmother. But I wasn't Cinderella.
    I didn't even have to touch my hair to know what a mess it was. I hadn't washed it after swimming in the ocean that day. It was thick and wiry with salt, not glossy and groomed the way it should have been, like the bouncing pageboys out the window.
    I wandered into Mom and Joe's room through the connecting door. Mom had gotten dressed in a hurry and had left her compact behind, open on the mirrored vanity. A dress was flung on the bed, something she'd rejected. High-heeled sandals were kicked off underneath it. A towel stained with powder was draped over a chair; bobby pins were flung like jacks on the dresser.
    I opened the closet. Shoes kicked off and left on the floor all crazy, nylons in a little silky ball. A woman's closet. Not like mine, which smelled of salt water and perspiration.
    Her perfume rose from the dresses and the beach-wear. I passed my hand along the dresses. Lots of them were new; Joe had followed through on his promise to buy her clothes. I pretended to hesitate, but there was only one dress I really wanted.
    It was spring-green silk with violet flowers scattered on it, and if that combination sounded ugly, it wasn't. The funny thing was, I didn't think it looked so swell on Mom. The pale green color didn't suit her. I liked the deep V of the bodice and the pleated sash. It would fit me, I knew it. But I needed one of her bras, and tissues to stuff inside. Plenty of tissues.
    I flung the dress on the bed alongside the other one. I felt greedy as I pulled out a lace brassiere that stood up at attention in the drawer. I didn't look in the mirror while I slipped my arms through the straps and stuffed it until there was no gap between the material and my skin. Then I slipped into the crinoline petticoat, all stiff and crackling with purpose.
    I was just adjusting the tissue in the bra when the door opened and my mother and Mrs. Grayson walked in. I had my hand right in the cup.
    Mrs. Grayson's eyebrows arched over her dark eyes like blackbird wings. My mother had a cigarette in her hand with a long ash. I watched as it dropped to the carpet.
    We all froze, like we'd been flung into our poses like a game of statues. Then they laughed.
    Mrs. Grayson put a fist to her mouth, but her laugh came out like a little yelp. They leaned against each other and giggled like girls.
    I looked in the mirror. My hair was frizzy. My arms were skinny and I was too tall. I looked like a dog on its hind legs. I felt tears spurt into my eyes, and my humiliation was complete.
    "No, no," Arlene Grayson said. "We're not laughing at you, petal. We were just surprised, that's all." She clicked over to me on her high heels. "You look pretty. You just need a few ... touches."
    I smelled their cocktails and their hair spray and their confidence in their own allure. "She's in such a hurry," Mom murmured to Mrs. Grayson.
    "Weren't you?" Mrs. Grayson asked. "I was. We need to fix her hair, Bev." She was all cool and soft, like iced sweet butter. She tucked my hair behind my ears. "We should wet it down."
    My mother looked at the green dress I'd flung on the bed. "I know one thing. She doesn't need a girdle like I do for that dress."
    "Look at that waist," Mrs. Grayson said. She placed her hands around my waist. "Those were the days. Come on, Bev, let's fix her up."
    Mom hesitated, but I knew she wouldn't refuse Mrs. Grayson. They pulled me forward, digging for lipsticks and combs. I felt part of a conspiracy, a conspiracy I'd always watched from the sidelines, girls pulling their friends into powder rooms, or pinning broken bra straps.
    They dragged me to the sink and