I stood in front of my mirror, staring at myself. Why do I have so little fashion sense, and Doe already have so much? I mean, I guess I look okay. I'm wearing my pink flip flops, beige capris, and a 'Whale Done' t-shirt with poofy sleeves. It's acceptable. But Dosinia! She has this cute, white tutu-like skirt, purple, curvy-but-not-tight graphic t-shirt with braided sleeves, and an adorable houndstooth hat. It sounds crazy, but its CUTE!
I can't take it anymore. I throw a stuffed seahorse at the mirror and flop down on my bed. Maybe I should just go ask her for help, the Dosinia-isn't-a-lost-cause-yet part of me says. She'll never want to help her apparently horrible cousin! She's liable to yell at me and break my nose as fast as a hungary shark will attack. The no-way-Dosinia-is-an-awful-evil-jellyfish part of me says. But this is a chance to test if she's changed yet! You have a duty, you know. You're still a princess! Stupid duty. But she might end up slamming the door in my face, breaking the foot that I try to shove in the frame and make me look even worse because I'll be walking around with ugly crutches all day! Ugh, I really hope that doesn't happen. Then don't shove your foot in the door! And you must fulfill your duty! Okay, duty wins. But I'm blaming duty when I have a broken foot.
I took a deep breath, and knocked on her bedroom door. As I was rethinking my plan, I heard some things crashing to the floor, and then Doe's door opened. "What do you want?" She grumbled. "Well, you see, I have some-, I just thought-, well, maybe-," What's happening? I had it all planned out! But now none of it seems right. "Look, could you help me with, well, fashion?" I blurted out. "Um, what?" She said, after a moment of pure silence. "Well, you see, you have- um, you have-" I couldn't get it out! My mouth just doesn't want to compliment her! "You have really great fashion sense, and I have really terrible fashion sense, so I was wondering if you could, I guess, help me?" She stared at me like I just told her I wanted to run away to the circus and be part of a mermaid exhibit after I tell the world that there is an underwater society that I and many other merfolk on land are part of. I bit my lip, preparing for her to tell me that I have less fashion sense than a clownfish, and that no one would be able to fix it. "Um, never mind, it was a bad idea, I should just-" "Okay, but could you help me with, um, math?" She glanced at the textbook in her hand.
Wow. I did NOT expect that. "Um, okay, why don't we work on a little math over Aunt Rachel's snickerdoodles, and then we can head to the mall?" "Sure, I'll see you in the kitchen, just give me a sec." She shut her door.
What's up with her? I mean, she's being nice. Or at least not mean, rude, obnoxious, and just plain awful. I rushed downstairs to warm up some of Aunt Rachel's snickerdoodles. I got out some milk and set everything on the dining table. I sat down and started reading my magazine. I was reading "10 Ways to Know if Your Best Friend Hates Zucchini" when Dosinia walked downstairs. She had her math book and what I assumed was her homework in hand. She sat down beside me and looked at me, and I realized she was expecting me to say something. "So...um," I wasn't used to not always bickering with her, so I didn't exactly know what to say. "I guess we should start on the first question." "Okay, it says 'solve for x'. What does that mean?" I was about to snicker, but then I realized that she really didn't know what it meant. "See those x's in the problem? Well, we have to figure out what number they stand for. There are multiple steps to get down to a number sentence that says 'x=#.'" It was nice to explain it to someone else, because it was helping me clear my head of all the numbers in math and just remember how to solve a problem. We got to work, eating snickerdoodles and solving for x.
Once we were on the last question, I heard someone walk in. Only Quince or Aunt Rachel would just do that, and Aunt Rachel was at work, so when I turned around, I wasn't surprised to see Quince going for the cookies sitting on the counter. "Hello, would you say hi to your girlfriend and forget about the cookies?" I laughed. He obviously didn't hear me, because he said "These cookies are sooo good," He turned and finally noticed us. "Oh, hey princess." I walked over and whacked him on the arm. "Girlfriend before cookies next time!" I smirked. "But they are so delicious!" He said, before eating another one. "Okay, you can stay, but while you're here, would you like to help us with FASHION and STYLE?" He grabbed a handful of cookies, stuffed more in his mouth, and ran out the door, saying something about helping his mom. Yeah, right. I laughed, and turned around. Doe had a smile on and a distant look in her eye. Hm. I'll worry about that later.
"Hey, so, Doe?" I said. "Unh?" was her intelligent reply. I could now see longing in her eyes. What's going on? Gotta get her out of this state of mind. "So, wanna finish this problem and then work on my, uh, style?" She started. "Oh! Yeah, sure, that sounds great." She sounded fine, but there was a weird tone underneath. "So, should we head to the mall?" I questioned, unsure of how to start this 'makeover' thing. Apparently, I was wrong. "Oh no, we have to start with your closet. We have to get rid of the ugly or useless pieces, keep the ones that are impossible to get rid of, and take the ones that have multiple uses to the mall to experiment with them. 'Kay?" Whoa. "Um, sure, but I didn't realize fashion was that much work!" "Fashion is a 24/7 job! Ready?" "Uh..."
"Just try it on!" Doe screamed in my ear. "Ugh! I'm over looking cute, if it takes this much work!" I groaned. "Look, I've found some really cute pieces, and plenty to get rid of. We'll go to GoodSoul, sell 'em, and spend the sand dollars we get on new clothes. 'Kay?" She said, pulling me up. "Why are you being so nice to me, anyways?" I grumbled. "Because, um, lets go!" She said. Huh. I wasn't up to arguing with her, so we got the clothes, jumped in a taxi (since we both had no idea how to drive), and headed to the mall.
We were in the 5th store, and, I have to admit, she's pretty good at this. A bit, ah, critical, though. Almost everything I even glanced at was ugly, horrible, disgusting, revolting (who knew she had such a large vocabulary!) or something a clownfish would wear. So I was in charge of the money, because she did NOT get the idea of dollars and change, and she was in charge of shopping. I now own clothes for every season, mood, and style. We got plenty of makeup and accessories, too. (She gave me a tutorial on applying makeup, since I was about as good at it as I was at juggling swordfish). By the time we were heading home, we spent about $800, got me probably 2 teenage girls' worth amount of clothes, TONS of makeup and accessories, and finally, I was exhausted. When we went home, I took everything upstairs, changed into PJs, went back down, and brought some key lime bars to the living room, where Dosinia was watching 'Joy', a musical high school drama show that she has gotten addicted to.
After a while, I grabbed the remote and paused the show. There was a silence. "Why did you do all this for me? Don't say it was so you could get your powers back, because I know that's not true." She closed her mouth. "I just don't get it. You've always hated me, and I've always hated you. What changed?" She sighed. "I don't know. I guess I see you with a loving boyfriend, a perfect best friend, a great dad, an amazing aunt, and I guess I just wanted some of that. You're always so nice, so I tried it. Wanted to see if I acted more like you, I would have a better life, like yours. I've always had so much hate in me, and look where I am now? Stuck on land, no powers, and basically everybody hates me. I've never done anything good, so no one has ever said 'thank you' to me. Not once. I can't believe that. I've never done anything worth a single 'thank you'." I was stunned. She sounded so...sincere. I was speechless, but I had so much I wanted to tell her. That she did something good, that she's making great progress, that she can get there. "Thank you."