“Hey there, guys and gals! It’s 7:30 in the morning in Pearl, Texas! Wake up, rinse off, and enjoy this beautiful day! The weather is looking sunny and clear with a high of 96 and a low. . .” A hand creeped out of the patchwork quilt to snooze the radio DJ’s tacky voice. “How ‘bout five more minutes. . .” She dreamily said.
Another ten minutes later, a dancing song popped on half-way through, awakening her. She crawled out of the small wooden bed, crinkled her nose, and yawned. “Now, where did I put those glasses!” she thought. They were obviously sitting on her dresser next to her puny vase of jasmine she picked from her mother’s garden. She finally noticed and put on her boyish tortoise-shell glasses.
Her window was the only sign of other human existence; it was somewhat swallowed by the deep chestnut wood of her attic bedroom. When the young girl looked out the window, she noticed her father, out in the garden, watering the tomato plants while her mother eyed the cucumber patch she knew would make great pickles come summer.
Alright, enough with this she, and the girl, and that kind of stuff. I might as well introduce you to our heroine, Ivalynd Alice Sycamore. However, she goes by Ivy. She’s a girl with what you’d call “spunk.”
She had pin-curled hair a color best described as “cinnamon.” Her glasses covered up her eyes, but you could still see the green behind her thick frames. She had a freckled face, chapped lips, and an oval-shaped head.
She lived on a farmhouse painted blue with her mother, father, older brother Charlie, and her very own beagle, Estelle Margaret Sycamore. Or, Stella. She was the type of person who preferred skirts over jeans, stories over sports, and records over the news. But, the most important thing to know about Ivy is that she was a writer. Between her wild imagination and her blue typewriter, about anything is possible. While other girls busied themselves with dances, bubblegum, and boys, Ivy was busy mentally watching princesses and princes going on daring adventures against evil witches and monsters.
As she looked out the window, she realized something marvelous: “Saturday.” she whispered. It was the best day of the week. On Saturday she and her friends Lilly and Luna Valley met up in town. She smiled, yawned, scratched her head, and began to get ready.
Her white vanity was definitely close to an elephant in the room, since it was brand new and dainty next to the striking contrast of the brown-colored room. She sat down on the matching white stool, and began to take out her velcro rollers. Soon, the thick curls began to fall into place. She applied some of her mother’s blush on her cheekbones, set her face with fancy drugstore powder, and applied a sheer pink to her lips. She finished her hair with a tortoise-shell comb and a generous amount of hairspray.
Now, for an outfit. Certainly not her sunday best, but the three girls all knew their tradition was a special occasion, so she went with a brown a-line skirt, light blue blouse, and a matching brown peter-pan collar cardigan. A string of faux pearls and black loafers finished her look. She grabbed her plaid pocketbook and was down the stairs.
Now, people say to never ask what’s in a woman (or girl, for that matter)’s purse. But I must indulge in telling you the contents of Ivy Sycamore’s purse. A Pencil & Pad of paper, Colored Pencils, Chapstick, Phone Pad, Breath Mints, Two Dollars, A Polaroid camera, Library Card, An extra hair comb, and a Drugstore Coupon.
Ivy was ready to tackle any breath-freshening situation that came her way. She could write down an idea, snap pictures of criminals, or buy lipstick in one bag! And just to be clear, she was definitely the kind of girl who liked to be prepared, unlike others she knew, who just carried nickels in their pockets.
As she headed out the back door, her mother called out, “Honey, ask the Luna’s if they’d like to come tonight! We’re making fried chicken and apple pie!”
Ivy nodded, smiled, and waved goodbye.
The black velvet material her loafers were made out of were covered in dust by the time her rickety red bike reached the Valley’s yellow farmhouse. A few seconds after she knocked on the door, two blonde figures stood in front of her. People who didn’t know the Valley girls very well might say they looked alike, but that is very untrue.
Luna Valley was short, stout, and had strawberry blonde ringlets that shaped her round face perfectly. She had bright blue eyes, long eyelashes and rosy cheeks. She was clever, blunt, humorous, and very cheery. Today she was wearing a light pink dress with a big white petticoat, pearls, pink slippers, and a pink hair ribbon. I’m not sure if there is any other 14-year old that could pull off her frilly look, but for her it just simply worked.
Lilly Valley, on the other hand, was of a medium height and somewhat skinny. She had extremely light blonde hair that was curled just like her sister’s. Her personality was mature and wise and the type to most likely become a socialite, but she was very good at being a nice, heartfelt friend. She had a strong jaw, a slim nose, but the same blue eyes as her sister. Some of her best features included her perfectly shaped reddish lips, her fair skin, and her great sense of style. Lilly was wearing a green tweed dress and black heels. Her outfit was simple yet very stylish.
Since the Valley’s farmhouse was nearer to town than the Sycamore’s, they ditched their bikes and just walked on the road into town, only one or two blocks away.