chapter 6

Izzy sat ina chair in her best friend Sarah’s salon, Root of the Matter, Sarah daubing her secret recipe onto Izzy’s scalp in preparation for their first day on The Great American Talent Show. (Perfectly blue hair was as high maintenance as, say… the Large Hadron Collider.) Root of the Matter was peaceful even if Izzy’s mind wasn’t. The stylists Sarah rented to hadn’t come in yet. Lassopryde played on the stereo. Outside, cars sloshed through the rain, but inside it was warm like a terrarium. Just the way Izzy liked it. Plants lined the windowsill and hung from the ceiling. Sarah’s cat, Mr. Kitty, curled up in his basket nestled among pothos plants Izzy had started for Sarah.

“We’re going to be on TV.” Izzy stated the obvious. “It’s happening.”

“Nervous?” Sarah asked.

“Of course not.”

Sarah glopped on more dye.

“It’s normal to be nervous. We’re all nervous,” Sarah said meditatively. Her collection of self-help books kept her emotionally centered, and they would center Izzy too, if Izzy read them when Sarah loaned them to her. Or so Sarah said. Izzy didn’t know. She hadn’t cracked a spine. Weren’t the titles enough? Say No to Dysfunction. You Are Worth Loving.

“The show always starts with the signature challenge,” Izzy said. “We need to show the world the beauty of gender diversity! Self-love!” She didn’t need the books. “Body positivity! The chance to—”

Sarah put a hand on the shoulder of Izzy’s plastic salon cape.

“I’m already on board, Blue. You don’t have to give me the speech.” Sarah pivoted. “You said you were looking into some stuff with the theater roof. How’d that go?”

Izzy saying fine would be lying to her friend. Telling Sarah the contractor had asked if it was supposed to be a green roof—it wasn’t—would lead to a lecture Izzy didn’t need about not making decisions that hurt her financial future even if she was trying to support the community.

Sarah wrapped a final strand of hair into foil to create a shimmer of lighter blue among the dark.

“Blue.” Sarah drew Izzy’s name out like a warning. “How’s the roof?”

“The saddle flashing is up to code.”

“Hmm.” Sarah fitted a plastic cap over Izzy’s head.

“Someone put in a lightweight seismic strap, which is good.”

Thank God Sarah didn’t know much about building. Izzy threw out some jargon that might have had something to do with roofing.

Sarah pulled off her gloves and spun Izzy’s chair around. “Isn’t that for earthquakes? What about the leaks?”

Okay, so Sarah wasn’t impressed by the seismic strap.

“Fixing up the theater is expensive. I’d be worried except we’re going to win The Great American Talent Show. Period.” She put on her best Blue Lenox smile. “Tell me how gorgeous I’m going to look when you finish with me. Are they going to shut down the show on the first day? Just say, Give Velveteen Crush the prize. They’re too fabulous.”

“You’re using humor to deflect.” Sarah had an associate’s degree in psychology. That combined with being a hairstylist made her a therapist in her own mind.

But Izzy couldn’t tell Sarah the truth. Not even Sarah. I made a stupid mistake because I thought I could be the community’s hero. I could lose everything. I’m terrified. Even Sarah had met Izzy as Blue Lenox. Even Sarah chuckled when she saw Izzy’s real name on a piece of mail. Isadora Wells. And of course, Sarah had a self-help book waiting for the moment Izzy wanted to talk about identity and vulnerability, but would Sarah really like the vulnerable, self-help-book Izzy? Blue Lenox enchanted every person she met; when you did that, you were safe in a way that banks couldn’t touch.

“You know we can be the best and still not win, right?” Sarah said gently.

“We’ve already won by being who we are!”

Sarah sighed.

Izzy had to give her something. “Okay, I’m a little nervous.”

“What are you doing for self-care?”

Izzy pictured Lillian, her body all muscle and angle. A Rodin sculpture cast out of bronze. Her light golden-brown eyes a mesmerizing contrast to her dark skin. How could someone be that striking? Izzy smiled at herself. She could picture the real Lillian looking mildly affronted. I said no scones; certainly, don’t use my body as some sort of centering prayer. What creepy self-help book did you get that out of?

“What is it?” Sarah sat on the window ledge, studying Izzy.

Had Izzy been staring into space dreaming of Lillian?

“Did I tell you I hooked up with this woman a while back?”

“Narrow it down. What woman, when?”

Izzy shook her head. “Never mind. It was… nothing.”

“No, tell me.”

Izzy’s phone rang. Hopefully it was one of the new company members with a crisis of confidence that demanded Izzy’s attention. She couldn’t possibly talk about her problems when someone needed saving. She pulled her phone out from beneath the plastic gown. The screen read Megan Wells. Her mother.

Don’t answer.Easy. Just send it to voicemail. Izzy had too much to worry about without Megan calling to invite Izzy to California for her half sister Bella’s birthday or a party in honor of Bella getting a promotion at work or whatever celebration Megan was having for the daughter she’d actually wanted. Every time it hurt. Every time Izzy ended up saying some polite version of How about you get out of my life? Every time Izzy ended up feeling like shit because (a) her mother never really loved her, Megan just wanted to seal the deal on her new life as the perfect suburban mom, and she couldn’t do that without Izzy in the family Christmas card; and (b) Izzy was too old to still care about that shit. But Izzy hadn’t read Healing Your Inner Child, and her inner child was stupid and vulnerable. Maybe she could heal her inner child if just once Megan put her first. If just once Megan wanted her, not for the Christmas card but just because Izzy mattered.

But Megan was not calling to say she was sorry about all the years of neglect and that she’d secretly adored Izzy that whole time, and even though she loved Bella and her husband, Rick, there was a hole in her heart that only Izzy could fill. Because Megan never called to say she was sorry, hole-in-her-heart etc. Which was why Izzy shouldn’t let her inner child pick up.

Izzy touched accept.

“Honey,” Megan cooed, “I’m so glad I caught you.”

Time raced backward, the way it always did when her mother called. Izzy was scanning the high school auditorium for her mother. Megan was a singer. Of course she’d come to see Izzy starring in Grease. But she hadn’t. The next memory was Izzy standing in front of their trailer watching her mother, stepfather, and Bella driving away, little Bella blowing kisses out of the back window.

“Megan,” Izzy said.

Sarah’s face read, Really? Sarah knew the history.

“It’s Mom, honey.”

Megan said it like she had never snuck Izzy into a bar and told Izzy to tell everyone that Megan was her older sister.

“I’ve been trying to message you on Instagram. I know you’re busy. You probably haven’t checked your messages. And Facebook is for people my age.” Megan gave a nervous laugh. “So I’m glad you’re there. I saw that you got on The Great American Talent Show. I’m praying for you to win,” Megan said quickly. “Bella and Rick are too.”

Did God want her to shimmy on national TV? If there was a God, he’d understand the importance of inclusivity and body positivity. But The Great American Talent Show was probably not at the top of his list of concerns. And who was this woman? I’ll pray for you?

“I got a ticket to the studio audience.” Megan’s voice brightened hopefully. “I see you on Instagram. You’re so talented! I know you’ll make it through to the end.” The rest came out in one breath. “I get to see my daughter up there.”

Izzy’s worthless inner child jumped up and down like she’d been handed a bouquet of balloons. Mom wants to see me!

But Megan had never come to Portland to see a performance. She hadn’t even come when Izzy had toured the West Coast and performed an hour and a half away from Megan’s home. Maybe Megan was still pining for the singing career she didn’t have because she got pregnant at sixteen. Maybe she thought Izzy could introduce her to the judges and she’d get rediscovered. Maybe Izzy owed it to her.

“Um,” Izzy said. “That’s nice, but I won’t be able to spend much time with you. The show’s going to keep us busy.”

“I know.”

Right. Megan wasn’t hoping for a weekend of mother-daughter time. Izzy should not care. A drop of blue dye slid down Izzy’s cheek like a tear. Sarah wiped it away, her eyes still fixed on Izzy.

“I just want to support you. Cheer you on. That’s my girl!”

“Um… Megan… Mom…” Why couldn’t she get the words out? Megan, this isn’t your big break. I’m not going to introduce you to the producer. If you want to be on a reality TV show, audition yourself. “That’s… um… it’s nice of you. You know it’s fine if you just watch the show on TV. I don’t need you to come up…” If we’re not even going to see each other.

“We’ll at least see each other backstage after the filming. You can introduce me to your friends. Goodness, I haven’t performed for years. I love that backstage feeling.”

“Never let your makeup slide.”

That’d been Megan’s favorite advice after Don’t burn the house down while I’m gone.

Izzy, if you want the world to love you, never let your makeup slide.

“I did say that, didn’t I?” Megan’s voice rose nervously.

Sarah watched Izzy with her supportive-friend face on.

“You did. It’s good advice. Speaking of… I’m getting my hair colored. It’s time to rinse. Take care, Megan… Mom. Maybe I’ll see you at the show when they bring the studio audience backstage after filming.”

“Wait, honey,” Megan said. “If you think I want something from you, I don’t. I promise. I just want to see you, honey. I’m so proud of you.”

Izzy really had to read that book about the inner child.

“I could probably find time to hang out,” Izzy said.

“Honey, I’d love that. Just you and me.”

If Megan really didn’t want to get on the show, that probably meant Megan would cancel the trip. Bella would win some award Megan had to celebrate. Just you and me would turn into why don’t you come down to California and come to Bella’s honor society induction ceremony? But maybe this once, it’d be different.

“Thanks. I’ll see you.” Izzy hung up and turned off the volume on her phone in one motion.

“You still got ten minutes on the dye.” Sarah stood up and wiped a bit of dye off Izzy’s forehead.

“Why do I fall for it?” Izzy asked.

“Would you like her to come support you?”

“She won’t or she will and it’ll be all about her. Nothing she’s done has ever been about me.”

Sarah walked around the back of the chair and put her arms around Izzy’s shoulders.

“Well, you’re going to have so many fans in the audience, and your friends… we’re all about you, Blue Lenox.”

So even your friends don’t know your real name?For a second, the sympathy in Lillian’s eyes had felt like a warm embrace. But the truth was, Blue Lenox was the best thing that had ever happened to Izzy Wells. And Blue Lenox did not need Megan Wells for anything.