Chapter 3
Bee
If ever my gig at Grizabella’s Café didn’t work out, I could totally make it as a cat burglar.
I was stealthy. I was agile. I was the night!
I killed it at making it up the mountain unnoticed. For once, my not-so-super power worked out in my favor.
I went through the mental checklist.
Peaked Interests Gift Shop employees gone? Check .
The single ancient security camera dealt with? Check .
Bikini on and ready to go? Double-check .
Okay. Well, that was the entire list. Now, I waited.
New Year, New Bee (NYNB for short) was officially in action. Sure, I was currently dressed only in my bikini under this trench coat and regretted not wearing thicker socks, but I wouldn’t be going outside, so I would be fine. Normally, I’d rock one of the colorful sweaters I knitted and some matching thick leggings or jeans, but I’d been in a hurry. Over the years, I grew to dress more for myself and less for others. Since I wouldn’t be noticed anyway, I might as well make myself happy.
Not all the logistics were worked out yet, but things were already lining up in my favor. Mel’s mention of the vlogger gave me an idea, and I sent her a message. She’d already responded, and she would be there for my grand reveal tomorrow. (More on that later.) For now, I took things one step at a time.
There was an upside to breaking into an establishment older than the Internet, not a lot of security protocol. The old gift shop consisted of one large room, one corner filled with a snack bar and eating area, and another for tee shirts, souvenirs, and miscellaneous ski/snowboard supplies. A few bathrooms were located at the other end of the room, and that was it. I’d probably be too excited to sleep, but if I needed to rest, I could always use one of those orange booths near that old popcorn machine that filled the air with the smell of stale popcorn and greasy butter.
I wouldn’t sleep.
A sneaky thrill tickled down my back as I stealthily crossed the snack bar and toward my final destination—the women’s room. Maybe not usually a place for changing one’s life, but it was today. The Mission Impossible theme song trilled through my brain as I hummed along out loud. I wasn’t stealing important information or dodging alarm-activating lasers, but the mission was every bit as important.
I was changing my entire life.
No more being overlooked or ignored. I would sashay down Main Street of Slippery Slopes, and people would see me. They would whisper behind hands, isn’t that Bee Perkins? No! Couldn’t be. And I would strut by with my chin held high. She used to be such a nobody. I never even noticed her. And I would pause, looking over my shoulder to serve my best face to which they would gasp. She’s so cool.
She’s unforgettable.
I stopped in front of a rack of ancient ski clothes that had been “on sale” since I was a kid. I flicked through the neon colors, cringing at the embarrassing nineties fashion. I won’t be needing one of these.
The saddest part was that I didn’t even have to try to avoid the notice of the closing shift member, Azi. He looked right at me, eyes never stopping like I was no more remarkable than the ancient wainscoting lining the walls. In fact, he knew a person came up on the last tram run, and by the time he left, he had no recollection of me nor the giant overnight bag that I’d lugged up with me. I could be preparing to rob the place, and nobody would be the wiser.
And maybe I would! Was that what it would take to finally get noticed? Maybe if not for the fact that the gift shop was an ancient tourist trap that didn’t make any money since Benny Jr. started running it. There was likely more change in my parents’ couch cushions than in the register’s till. I’d still have to live in Slippery Slopes. Getting arrested would make a lasting impression, but maybe not the vibes I was going for? That’d be plan B.
Also, stealing was wrong. Obviously.
Tomorrow, I would be unforgettable. It shouldn’t be so hard to stand out in a town of less than ten thousand people, yet there was no doubt that the collection of oddballs here in Slippery Slopes was the highest in the country per capita.
And I was aware of Florida.
I was just in the middle of grand Sound-of-Music -esque spins in the middle of the gift shop—the hills were alive with the sound of subterfuge—when I heard the old gears of The Tram coming to life.
I stopped and spun in the direction of the metallic clanking, my body rigid and ears piqued. The sounds came from the doors that dumped tourists into the gift shop before they could go out to the lookout and spend more money to use the binoculars.
The tram was coming up? But I made sure that there were no more rides scheduled for tonight.
This was so not the plan. Who would be coming up here now? Unless …
My heart dropped. What if there was a robber, and I just happened to pick the one night they were going to do it? It was New Year’s Eve, for crying out loud! What was wrong with people?
I hid around the corner, swallowing a lump in my throat as I waited to see who was coming. It took years for the ancient box to make its way to the dock. Another decade for the single occupant to come out with an icy breeze.
A massive looming shape appeared, as tall as a Sasquatch and as wide as a refrigerator. The lights backlit him, so I couldn’t make out who it was, but I wasn’t going to stick around to find out.
This situation was not ideal.
“Did you shut down the lights when you closed up?” a deep voice asked into a walkie-talkie. The radio on the other end cracked something I couldn’t make out. “Well, everything is still on up here.” He sighed, annoyance rigid in the set of his shoulders. I tucked myself further back into the darkness.
The giant went to the camera I had skillfully disengaged with my new cat burglar prowess and tech-wit.
“And somebody unplugged the camera.” More static and indecipherable talk. “Yeah. Yup. I’ll sweep the perimeter.”
Oh, that sounded fancy. I would be stealing that— sweep the perimeter .
Benny Jr. must be on to me. Maybe I wasn’t as stealthy as I thought in this last-minute strategy to change my life. An urge to quit this all had me almost stepping forward and giving myself up. I’d been caught.
But then I thought of Jane Smith.
I recalled how my boss had forgotten about me and how my best friend was moving on in his life. (Not that it was Deckard’s job to keep track of me.) Or how my parents rarely checked in with me. All the tiny little microaggressions of a town I’d grown up in.
I wouldn’t be a ghost in my own life.
I stepped back into the darkness. I re-engaged stealth mode as I crept silently on creaking floors to the back hallway with the bathrooms. If he was looking for an intruder, I’d just lay low until he got bored and left. Hopefully, whoever was here would have the decency to assume that the women’s room was off-limits.
And if anybody did go in there? Well, I’d just have to attack him and hide the body.
Just kidding, just kidding. I’d figure out a way to get him out of my hair.
Speaking of …
I had a plan to stick to. And phase one of that plan involved a haircut. Aside from the colorful outfits nobody noticed, I often wore my long chestnut hair in fancy braids or twists. It flowed down to my lower back at this point when not done up. And what was the most dramatic thing a lady experiencing a life change could do?
Give herself bangs.
Yes, that was right—a haircut up here at the top of the mountain. If I was going to change everybody’s perception of me, I had to start with the physical traits.
I set down my overnight bag and nodded at my reflection in the mirror. My brown eyes gleamed with excitement. I pulled out the small black kit from my bag, spread out a towel around my shoulders, and pulled out my tools.
Big moves started with big actions.
I snapped the scissors twice to test the metal tongs just pulled from the utensils’ drawer.
I’d seen a video where a girl cut her own bangs, so I was fairly certain I could figure it out. I sectioned my hair in half vertically, the opposite of pigtails, so that my long hair stuck straight out of the top of my head. I bobbled my head back and forth so the ponytail spilled like a fountain around me.
“Here we go.” I let out a breath and brought the scissors to my head. “New Year, New Bee: Act One.”