Browsing aisle after aisle of all those amazing books in Dinand Library, I barely suppressed a squee of excitement. It was like meeting old friends for the first time. The library drew me deeper into its heart like a siren to sailors on the open sea.

Never had I seen so many amazing language books. The Fitchburg and Leominster libraries both maintained a paltry linguistics section. When I'd found a battered cassette tape in order to teach myself German, I'd considered myself lucky.

"Gosh, Helen!" I pointed at a row of German books. "I wish I could take these home with me."

"They're all available to you if you decide to study here," she said, curling her lip. "But we have to start heading back to the dorm now. It's five-thirty."

"Just five more minutes?"

"Come on, bookworm." She led me by the hand back towards the main entrance. "We can come back tomorrow. Don't forget we have plans tonight."

I sighed. "Oh, all right."

"Just one more reason to transfer here for your sophomore or junior year," Helen said, giving me a gentle nudge out the exit. "I had to literally drag you out of there."

"Well, not literally..."

"Close enough," she said, checking her watch. "I mean, we need to get you ready."

"For what?"

"For your date, Jess!" She scoffed. "Come on, no one is that oblivious."

"Dude, Eric invited you and some other people," I said, trying to suppress nerves bubbling beneath the surface. "It's not a date."

"Yeah, so that he didn't ditch his friends or make it super obvious that he's into you."

"It's just a movie night," I said. "An awesome one, no doubt. But let's not read too much into it."

She rolled her eyes. "Hey, I've got an idea!"

Oh, dear!

"What about a makeover?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with delight.

"That's really nice of you, but I don't know."

"Come on, you've seen my handiwork," she said with a grin. "Don't you trust me?"

I cupped my neck with my palm. "I mean, what if Eric gets the wrong idea? I'm focused on final exams and graduation."

"Dude, the makeover is for you, not for him," she said with a scoff. "Come on, let me spoil you a little. You're a really pretty girl hidden under a tight bun and cheap granny clothes, no offense."

"Well, I brought only one other outfit," I said with a hint of chagrin. "And I'm pretty sure you're not going to like it any better."

She chuckled. "Luckily for you, I have lots of clothes."

"You're at least six inches taller than me. And you have a different body shape."

"We'll make it work," she insisted. "What size are you?"

"It's complicated."

"Uh...?"

"I wear a size two, four, or six in pants and skirts depending on the brand, but at least a size ten in shirts. Sometimes twelve."

"Really?" She gave me an incredulous look. "But you're slender as hell!"

"Yeah because of..." I gestured at my broad shoulders and bosom.

"Damn, girl!" She winked. "Won't be able to wear my bras, then. Luckily for you, shirt jackets are all the rage. If you don't button them, they should fit. And you could wear a cute, tight spaghetti-strap shirt underneath to accentuate your...assets."

"Won't that be a bit risqué...?"

"O-M-G!" Helen broke out into a fit of giggles. "Say that again!"

I furrowed my brow. "What? Risqué?"

"I'm sorry, Jess," she said, stifling her laughter. "But talking to you is like being in a 1930's time capsule."

I gave her an incredulous look.

"No, it's not going to be too risqué, for God's sake. Live a little, Jess."

Thanks, Mom, for all the super tutelage on fashion.

I need to break free from this cocoon before it's too late.

"All right," I said with a hesitant sigh. "I trust your judgment. Let's have a makeover."

Helen gave an excited squee. "Yay! You'll love it, I promise."

How on Earth can a girl this bubbly be a Math/Economics/Accounting major?

***

We walked down the hill towards Loyola Hall, the dorm where both Helen and Eric resided. Like most other buildings at Holy Cross, it was a multi-story brick structure, only with row upon row of identical windows.

Helen explained that she and Eric lived in "substance-free housing," where students pledged not to drink, smoke, or consume illegal drugs. They had a zero tolerance policy towards any drunken behavior and breaches of conduct could result in being kicked out of the dorm.

"Between you and me, that doesn't keep us from consuming the occasional beer with friends," she whispered. "Just, you know, we keep it under control and under wraps."

"Got it," I said with a conspiratorial smile.

"So, this is me. And you for the next two days." We stopped in front of a large iron door, where Helen punched in her key code and let me in. "My roomie's away for the weekend with her boyfriend, so you can sleep in her bed. Clean sheets are there. Folded. Neat freak. Who the hell irons linen?"

We both gave a small chuckle.

It was as though someone had divided the room in half down the middle. On the left piles of books and papers were strewn on the desk and even on the floor. Movie posters from Titanic and Meet Joe Black had been fixed on the wall with Blu Tack. Scattered across the desk stood a row of pictures of family and friends.

On the other side, the desk was clear of all debris and organized just so, with nothing out of place. Only a collection of velveteen mini-figures from Winnie the Pooh stood around Eeyore on her roommate's desk. Science posters hung on the walls along with the occasional inspirational cat poster.

But there wasn't a hint of clutter. The two distinct sides were striking.

"Like the former East and West Germany," I mused. "Only with roommates, not countries."

"Well, we're nice about it," she replied. "She says I can do whatever I like, as long as it doesn't cross the imaginary boundary."

"Sounds about right."

I plopped down on the pea green mattress. Pretty comfortable, actually. I made my bed while Helen took out some prospective outfits to try.

"Right, you'll need to try these on, and I'll give you an expert opinion," Helen said.

"Uh, should I change in the bathroom?"

"Not unless you're squeamish."

"I just didn't know if..."

Helen chuckled. "Just because I like women doesn't mean I have an uncontrollable impulse to jump every woman's bones."

It was my turn to blush and stammer like an idiot. My cheeks burned like forest fires. I didn't mean to offend her, but I just didn't know if the protocol was different. I'd been raised with strict rules on not showing too much of anything in front of the opposite gender.

I thought it might have been the same principle. Clearly not.

"I didn't mean--"

"No worries, Jess." Helen grinned as she handed me the first outfit. "Consider us even."

Breathing a sigh of relief, I nodded. I turned around not only to be modest but to hide my utter embarrassment at my faux pas. About sexuality, no less.

Way to go, Jess.

When I had finished donning the ensemble, Helen pursed her lips in thought and shook her head. "Nah, the legs are way too long. What's your inseam?"

"Twenty-six."

"Damn, girl! You're tiny."

"Oddly enough, I have a torso of someone much taller than me," I shrugged. "The length had to come from somewhere I suppose."

"Hmm, we may have to go with this," she said, cocking her head to the side as she switched out the pants for skirts. "Try it on and see."

The skirt fit great. But when I put on her shirt, my boobs almost popped out of it any time I moved. "I don't know, Helen. It's kind of revealing."

"Come on, show me..." she said in a suspicious voice.

I turned around, and she balked. "Actually, yeah, I kinda agree with you there. You don't want to pop a button after a slice of pizza." She raised her eyebrows. "Okay, let's go with my initial plan. A shirt jacket with a matching skirt and a spaghetti-strap shirt for contrast."

The undershirt had just enough stretch not to give me a uni-boob. Miracle of miracles! It gently hugged them instead. The outer layer fit my frame just right as long as I left it unbuttoned. For once, I didn't resemble a tent. The mini skirt fell just above my knees on my tiny legs, showing off my slender calves, toned from daily walks.

"O-M-G! It's perfect," she exclaimed. "Right, what size shoe are you?"

"Seven or seven-and-a-half."

"Just like me! Here, try these on."

She handed me a pair of black platform sandals. When I modeled the outfit, she could hardly muffle a squee of excitement.

"Now all we have to do is straighten your hair, add a bit of curl, and leave it down," she said. "Add a touch of makeup, not too much, of course. You have pretty features already."

I blushed. "Thanks."

"Hey, what are friends for, right?" she said. "Leave it to me. It'll be perfect."

After she'd done my hair, makeup, and added some finishing touches, she presented her work of art in front of a full-length mirror. "Ta-da!"

I gaped at my reflection before breaking out into a grin. The new, long hairdo softened my look, making my face less severe. The makeup evened out my pale skin and accentuated the green and brown flecks of my hazel eyes. The clothes hugged my curves without revealing too much.

Damn, I am kinda pretty.

"See, what did I promise?" She squeezed my shoulders from behind, staring at her creation. "Tasteful but gorgeous."

"You're a genius," I whispered, twisting from side to side. "I can't believe it's me."

Helen chuckled. "Glad to assist. Now I need to get a move on. It's already six-thirty!" She rushed around the dorm room, putting together a stellar outfit in no time flat. "Just relax. Enjoy. Read a book if you want."

"Thanks, Helen. You're the best."

When she left, I couldn't help but chuckle at my reflection. I'd never made such a bold change in my life. The exact opposite of Mom's look.

I felt powerful. Strong. In charge of my own destiny.

And damn, did it ever feel good.