Title: All that Glitters - Part 5
By: Miki
E-mail: aya_miki@hotmail.com
Rating: G
Genre: Romance
Standard Disclaimer Apply


The next morning, I got up a half-hour earlier than usual to
fix my hair and apply makeup the way Setsuna had taught me.
Then I put on the new clothes I'd bought yesterday with my
birthday money and stood in front of the full-length mirror on
the back of my bedroom door.
	I couldn't believe the difference the makeover had made.
I looked like a new person--a more vibrant, alive person. The
rose outfit emphasized the pink color in my cheeks. It's
amazing how different you can look when you're excited.
	I couldn't wait to see Mom and dad's reaction to the new
me. Last night, I'd run up to my room when I got home and
called "Good night" through the bedroom door when I heard my
parents go up to bed. So they were in for a surprise.
	By the time I was dresses and ready, Mom and Dad were
already in the kitchen having breakfast. Sammy had early swim
practice, so he'd already left for school.
	I sneaked downstairs very quietly so they wouldn't hear
me coming, tiptoed to the swinging kitchen door, then burst
into the room. "Ta da!" I called out, making a grand entrance.
	My dad was sitting at the kitchen table, smoking his
pipe. When he glanced up at me, his pipe slid out of his mouth
and clattered noisily on the tabletop. He sat up straight and
stared at me. "Serena?" he asked.
	Mom turned around from the kitchen sink, and her mouthdropped open.
	"Serena!" she said, and then she started to smile. "You
look--fantastic!" Now she was grinning from ear to ear. "Whata change!"
	Good old Mom always comes through.	"Like it?" I asked dad, grinning.
	He leaned forward and stared at me hard. "Which part?"
he asked. "The hair, the face or the clothes?"
	"Everything!" I said. "What's the verdict?"
	"You really look different," he mumbled.
	"Yes, I know, but do you like it?" I asked.
	I turned around so he could see the new me from all
angles. He still had that look of astonishment on his face.
	"Doesn't she took adorable, Kenji?" Mom said, crossing
to Dad and nudging his shoulder with his hand. "Just look at
your daughter! Isn't she beautiful?"
	My dad picked up his pipe. "Just don't let her out ofthe house," he said.
	"What!" I cried. "Are you kidding? Don't you think Ilook great?"
	"Of course he's kidding," Mom assured me. "Aren't you,
Kenji? Tell your daughter you're kidding."
	"I'm kidding," he said. "You look nice."
	"Come on, Dad," I said, determined to tease him a
little. "just 'nice'? How about lovely, gorgeous, stunning,
good-enough-to-chew-on---"	"What was that last one?" he asked.
	"I heard that on a soap opera," I said.
	"Oh," he said. "I think I'll stick to my firstadjective. You look nice."
	I sighed. "Thanks, Dad." I guess I had to be gratefulfor small favors.
	When I got to school, I was ecstatic about everyone's
reaction to me. I heard a lot of comments whispered as I
walked down the halls, almost as many as the day I'd gottenthe Golden Girl job.
	"Wow! Look at her!"	"Talk about a glamorous job!"
	"What a difference! Is that really Serena?"	"She looks beautiful!"
	I can't tell you how good I felt! Yesterday I'd thought
that everyone was whispering that I wasn't pretty enough to be
the Golden Girl, but today I was sure they agreed that Mr.
Trent had made the best possible choice.
	Molly was waiting for me at my locker as usual, and she
saw me coming from a long way off. She'd been leaning against
my locker, holding her books to her chest. When she saw me,
she took a step away from the locker, stood up straight, and
lowered her arms. Her mouth was hanging open wide enough forinsects to fly in.
	I smiled and waved at my best friend.
	"Serena Montgomery, what have you done to yourself?" sheasked.
	My smile faded and I stopped about five feet from her.
"What do you mean?" I asked. "Don't you like the new me?"
	She stared at me for at least thirty seconds before
answering. Then she said something so softly that I couldn'thear her.
	"What did you say?" I asked. I wasn't sure what was
going on. Molly had never looked so strange.
	She looked at the floor for a moment, then looked back
at me. "I said, 'I liked the old Serena. She was my bestfriend.'"
	"But I'm still your best friend!" I said. "I haven't
changed, not on the inside. Just the outside is different.Really, Molly."
	"Okay. We'll see," she said simply.
	"What do you mean by that?" I asked, beginning to feel a
little annoyed. Your best friend is supposed to be happy for
you when something nice happens--at least that's what I'vealways thought.
	"Nothing," she said. "I know you're my friend." She
glanced up at the clock on the wall above our heads. "I have
to get to my first class. See you later."
	She turned and walked down the hall away from me.
	"Molly?" I called out. She stopped and turned back
toward me. "Your first class is American lit. You're going thewrong way."
	She stared at me a moment, then sighed deeply. As she
walked by, she mumbled, "You look fantastic, and I'm going to
kill myself." I was too stunned to answer. She stopped a few
feet beyond me and turned back. "I was kidding. About killing
myself, I mean. You really do look fantastic. I was just
worried that…well, with your new job and everything, you'd
forget all about me. But I really am happy for you."
	"Thanks, Molly," I said quietly. "Your opinion means alot to me."	"Really?"
	I shrugged. "Maybe not as much as Darien Riley's, but it
means a lot." Then I laughed. "Just kidding."
	She grinned. "Thanks." Will you show me how to do myeyes like that?"
	"You bet," I answered, feeling relieved.
	For the first time in my life I felt very popular and
accepted. Everybody congratulated my and improved looks during
the day--except Mina Boyson, of course. I was standing in the
hall with some girls when she walked by. She did a double take
and her friend nudged her in the ribs and grinned.
	"What'd I tell you?" Mina's friend said, loud enough for
me to hear. "Makeup today, plastic surgery tomorrow."
	Mina apparently thought this was a very witty comment,
because she laughed uproariously. "I guess miracles do
happen!" Their cruel laughter followed me all the way down thehall.
	"She's so jealous, she can hardly stand it," said one ofmy classmates.
	"She so jealous, I can hardly stand it," I said
ruefully, and the girls around me laughed. "And for that
matter, what does she have to be jealous about?"
	"She's jealous," one girl said, "because for the first
time in her life, she didn't win a contest that depended on
her looks. She's always gotten everything she wanted. Shecan't take losing."
	After math class, I was walking down the hall and sensed
that someone was directly behind me. I turned and looked into
the face of Allan Duncan, a senior, very popular with the
girls, and the quarterback of our state champion footballteam.
	He grinned. "Hi, I'm Allan," he said.	"Hi, I'm Stunned," I said.	" 'Stunned'?"
	"That you'd think I wouldn't know who you are!" I said.
His grin widened. "I cheer you on to victory along with the
rest of Lincoln High during every home football game."
	"So that's why we're on a winning streak!" he said.
	Allan had rugged good looks, like a tough street kid in
a movie like The Outsiders. Right now, though, he was being
very charming. I wished Darien Riley could see me now. Why was
I even thinking about Darien when I was talking to someone a
whole lot more exciting?	"Congratulations," he said. "You must've had a lot of
competition, but it seemed rather ungracious of me to say,
"Well, yeah, as a matter of fact, I did beat out two hundredgirls."
	So I shrugged and said, "Oh, I don't know."
	"You're too modest," he said. "I know a lot of girls who
tried out for the job. You obviously impressed the people atTrent's."
	I didn't know how to answer that one either, and I was
starting to get flustered. I batted my eyelashes in an
exaggerated flutter, grinned, and said in my best--though it
came out like my worst--Southern belle accent. "You do say thenah-cest thangs."
	He was obviously surprised by my reaction, because hetook a step back.
	I tried to make up for my blunder by becoming more
serious. "Have you decided on what you're gong to do after
high school? Have you been offered any football scholarships?"I blurted out.
	Good grief! Even talking about the weather would've been
more subtle! Now he knows I didn't know what to say.
	"Uh, yeah, a few," he said, loping along beside me. The
he stopped in front of a classroom door. "Well, here's my
English class. I guess I'll see you."
	"Right," I said, wanting to die. "See you later."
	You blew it! You blew it! He thinks you're an idiot--andwith good reason!
	Becoming the Golden Girl had really turned my world
upside-down in a hurry. My best friend was acting weird, I
suddenly had lots of new friends who didn't notice me before,
and I was acting like a nincompoop with the most popular guy
in school. All the attention was coming so fast. I didn't knowhow to handle it.
	So when I saw Darien walking toward me after school, I
steeled myself for the worst to happen. He approached with asmile.
	"You're making quite a hit today," he said. "Everyone's
talking about you all over school."
	"Oh, yeah," I said quietly. "It's been a very--unusualday."
	He grinned. "I feel a little like Henry Higgins in MyFair Lady."
	I sighed, thinking about what Molly had said. "Just call
me Eliza," I said quite seriously, in a Cockney accent that
was a vast improvement over my Southern belle.
	"Hey, you do that accent pretty well," Darien said.
	"Thanks," I said, forcing a smile and wishing that
Darien weren't so darned cute. As he stood there smiling, I
looked into his eyes and ached because I liked him so much.
But I tried to remain cool. "What's new?"
	"Dad said to tell you that you'll be the commentator at
Trent's spring fashion show. You know, the MC." He smiled. "He
said the news would probably make your day. It's the biggest
event of the season."	"What?" I said, taking a step back. "The MC? Me? Are you
sure?"	"Sure I'm sure," he said, grinning. "Isn't that great?"
	My throat constricted all of a sudden, and I tried to
swallow, but I couldn't. "But I--I--I can't do it!" I
stammered. "I mean, I can't stand there in front of all thosepeople!"
	Darien looked confused. "What do you mean, you can't do
it? It's part of your duties as the Golden Girl."
	I took another step back. "But the Golden Girl has never
had to be an MC before!" I said.
	"This is the first year. Mr. Trent wants to showcase the
store's spokesperson--that's you--at the fashion show. He
wants to make it an annual tradition. He thinks you'll begood. And you will be!"
	"No, I won't" I cried. "Because I won't be there!"
	Darien's face fell then and it made me feel terrible,
because I knew that I was letting him down, but I couldn't
help it. I couldn't be the MC at the fashion show!
	"That's part of your job, Serena," he said, obviously
irritated. "When you auditioned to be the Golden Girl, you
should have done so with the understanding that if you were
chosen, you would represent Trent's Department Store whenever
you were called upon to do so."
	"But, Darien, there will be hundreds of people at that
fashion show! Oh, just the thought of it is making me dizzy!"I gasped.
	"So what's the problem?" Darien looked as if he didn't
know whether to sit me down and give me a glass of water orpunch me in the nose.
	"So…" I paused. "So--I get stage fright, that's what."
	Darien stared at me for a minute. "Stage fright? How did
you manage to audition so well?"
	"That's different!" I said. "It was just you and me in
the studio. A few people don't bother me. But I can't stand up
in front of a crowd!"	Darien stared at me for a moment. "You get stage fright
in front of a crowd, but not a camera?"
	"That's right," I said. "I know it must sound silly to
you, but I don't know how to explain it any other way."
	Darien reached out and took my hand. His hand felt warm
and comforting, and I was glad that he wanted to reassure me.
But there was nothing even Darien Riley could do to make me
feel better about performing in front of all those people.
	"Serena, lots of people get stage fright, even famous
people who make their living performing."	"I know," I said, feeling defensive.
	"You know who Carly Simon is? And Johnny Mathis?"	"The singers? Of course."
	"They get stage fright every time they perform," Darien
said. "I've read interviews with both of them, and they talked
about how frightened they are to be in front of people."
	"Really? Carly Simon? I really liked her. Mom says she
was always her favorite singer."
	"But they go out and do what they're hired to do--they
sing and make millions of people happy."
	"Well, I hardly think that my presence at the Trent
fashion show is going to make millions of people happy," Isaid.
	"No, but it'll make Mr. Trent happy, and he's the guy
we’ve got to please." Darien squeezed my hand, reached up, and
brushed away a stray strand of hair from my face.
	I sighed deeply. How could I turn Darien down? He was
counting on me. "Well, I'll try, Darien, but I can't promise
you anything…that I'll show up, for instance."
	Darien grinned. "Of course you'll show up," he said, "if
I have to come over to your house and drag you there myself."
	"When is this wonderful event taking place?" I asked.	"Next month," he said.
	"For spring? In February?"	"Sure. Trent's begins to get their spring clothes in
after inventory in early January," Darien explained.
	"Oh. I just don't know, Darien."	"You'll be great," Darien said.
	"What if I get the hiccups?" I asked. "You wouldn't
think I was so great if I got a bad case of hiccups right in
the middle of the show."	Darien smiled. "Why do you think you'd get the hiccups
on that particular night?" he asked.
	"Because, I have a history of getting the hiccups when
I'm nervous about being in front of a crowd."
	"But what about the time you played Ophelia?" he asked.
"That went well, didn't it?"
	"Not exactly," I admitted. "Ophelia had a very bad case
of hiccups." Darien didn't say anything. "But don't worry. No
one will be able to hear my hiccups anyway, because of the
racket my knees will make when they knock together."
	"We'll amplify your voice. You'll have a microphone."
	I stared at him. "Have you ever heard hiccups amplified
over a public-address system?" I groaned and covered my facewith my hands.
	Darien laughed and gently pried my hands away from my
face. "You won't get the hiccups! I have a foolproof method ofstopping them."
	"What's your method?"	"Never mind. It helps to have the element of surprise."
	"I just don't know."	"Don't keep saying that. Plan on being the MC in
February," he said. "And I'll see you tomorrow night at KIRQ,
all right? Oh, I nearly forgot." He pulled a piece of paper
out of his pocket. "Here's the copy for the TV spot. There'll
be a TelePrompTer, so you don't need to memorize it, but make
sure you're familiar with it."
	"I'm looking forward to the TV spot, at least," I said,
unfolding the paper.
	"Good," he said, gazing into my eyes. "So am I." He gave
my arm a squeeze.
	I watched Darien as he disappeared down the hall. I
wanted to be the MC in the fashion show to please him, but the
thought of actually doing it terrified me.
	I laughed to myself. Boy, I knew I must be pretty hung
up on Darien if I'd even consider the MC job. There was no one
else in the world who could convince me to try something like
that. Not even Allan Duncan.
	I leaned against the lockers behind me. Allan was really
cool, a football hero and very popular, but when I talked to
him, I didn't feel the way I did when I talked to Darien. With
Darien, I felt warm, comfortable feeling inside. I could be
myself with Darien. We could joke around and even act a little
goofy. But Allan was different. I would always be on my guard
with Allan, and I knew our conversation had been really stiff.
	I liked the way Darien was so understanding about my
stage fright. I just hoped that he would be as understanding
on the night of the fashion show as he was today!
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So how am I doing so far? Is anyone still reading this fic?
Anyway if you are drop a line, okay?