I So Don't Do Makeup (2 page)

“I'm first,” Brianna announces, pulling the chair from my bedroom into the bathroom.

I drape a bath towel across Brianna, pull her hair back in a ponytail and sponge her face with a warm wet washcloth. Then, exactly like a surgeon performing delicate surgery, I start calling out for stuff.

“Cleanser,” I announce.

Junie places it in my waiting palm.

“Astringent. Toner. Towel. Bronzer.”

During all this, Kim's hanging by the bathroom door, nervous and twitchy, ready to make a break for it if we get too close with a makeup brush.

“Before we start slapping on makeup, we gotta figure out our face shapes.” I open my magazine and smooth it flat on the counter. Then I uncurl a measuring tape. “Who wants to go first?”

“Me, me, me.” Brianna waves her arm in the air.

Such an enthusiastic subject! I measure across her jawline, across her cheekbones, across the widest part of her forehead and from her hairline down to her chin.

“This is so exciting, Sherry.” Brianna talks without moving her lips, like a ventriloquist.

I jot down the numbers on a Post-it note, then stick it to the page with all the face shape info.

Brianna leans over, her hair brushing the page, muttering her numbers under her breath. “Same width at forehead and cheekbones. Narrow chin.” Her finger pauses on one of the shapes and taps. “Oblong?” she wails. “I'm oblong? It says oblong is the worst shape!”

“I bet lots of movie stars have oblong faces,” Junie says.

“How would you know?” Brianna pushes up on her chin. “You only watch the Science Channel.”

“Bri, it's like I told you before,” I say. “All face shapes can be beautiful. We'll work with you, especially in the shading department. And you could think about getting a haircut.” I look closer at the article. “It says to avoid long straight hair, like yours, with an oblong face.”

“Oblong,” Brianna repeats. “This explains so much of what's gone wrong in my life.”

Junie's reading the magazine page, the tip of her tongue poking out between her front teeth. A sure sign of concentration for her. “So, I'm round. And I should grow my hair down past my chin and get rid of the frizziness, especially by my ears.”

“Sounds right to me.” I give her a thumbs-up.

“And you're a heart.” Junie draws the shape in the air.

“Great,” I say sarcastically. “I've always wanted a pointy chin.”

Of course, Kim has the perfect face. Oval.

I drag my desk chair into the bathroom. “Have a seat, Junie.” I flap a towel, then drape it over her. I unscrew a bottle and drip some of its contents on a cotton pad. “Freckle Fade.”

Junie plunks herself down in the chair faster than you can say Pippi Longstocking. She's always been unhappy with her freckles. And her red hair.

I start dabbing. “Amber said the solution in Freckle Fade isn't bleach. So, while somewhat drying, it
won't totally suck the moisture from your skin and leave you looking like a raisin.”

“Sounds good,” Junie says through parted lips.

“What about your eyebrows?” Brianna asks.

It's a delicate subject because Junie's eyebrows are unruly and forestlike.

Junie's hands pop up from under the towel and she smacks them over her brows. “Don't touch them. I'm not up for that much pain.”

I can see her point.

While Junie's fading, I start on Brianna, using as many products as possible. I'm especially generous with the blemish concealer. With a large flat brush, I paint blush strokes on an upward angle over Brianna's cheekbones to minimize her facial length. Junie dusts her with bronzer.

The result: amazing.

Even Kim, who's sitting on my bed, notices a difference.

With lots of instruction from me, Brianna does my face. Junie watches closely.

Eventually the three of us are made up and beautiful.

I call Kim into the bathroom. “Look in the mirror, Kim,” I say. “You've got the most perfect cheekbones.”

“And you're an oval,” Brianna says admiringly.

“How about a light dusting of blush?” I wave the brush in the air. “I'm talking überlight.”

“Okay,” she says.

I think Kim's more interested in makeup than she's admitting.

The next part of the slumber party is all about sprawling in the family room, munching on junk food and watching movies.

Late, late at night, exhausted and bleary-eyed, we roll out our sleeping bags, then trudge into the bathroom to brush our teeth.

“One more thing, guys.” I yawn. “Night cream.”

“Enough with the makeup.” Brianna yawns back at me and the fluorescent light bounces off her braces. That girl can be very cranky when tired.

“Amber promised if we leave the Nite Sprite Creme on overnight, we won't even recognize our own skin. It'll glow and sparkle and shimmer,” I say. “It's got magic mini moisturizing beads.”

Junie picks up the Nite Sprite Creme bottle. “The beads are filled with vitamin E and dissolve over several hours.”

“We'll totally own Saguaro Middle School come Monday morning,” I say.

Propped up against the bathroom wall, Brianna nods sleepily.

We wash off our makeup, then smear thick peach-colored unscented cream from our necks to our foreheads. Total coverage. I hit Junie extra hard because of the Freckle Fade. Only her tiny brown eyes squint
out from a sea of orange. Kim steadfastly refuses to join in. Which just goes to show how stubborn a Jane can be.

I'm already snuggled in my sleeping bag and halfway to dreamland when Junie says, “My face is tingling. Are you sure this stuff is okay, Sherry?”

“I'm sure. It's from Amber,” I mumble into the dark. “Go to sleep.” I roll over. “Suck it up for beauty.”

“Yeah, but is your face tingling?” Junie asks. “Brianna, how about you? How's your face feel?”

Brianna gives a little nasally snort. She zonks out fast.

“Be quiet,” Kim complains.

Three of us dream of beauty and baby-soft skin. One of us dreams of plainness and a business degree.

H
igh-pitched screams rudely rip me from the middle of a delightful dream where Josh and I both have unlimited texting. When I enter the conscious world, I'm tapping on my thigh.

More screams. From the bathroom. It's Junie.

Brianna, Kim and I catapult out of bed, fly over my sea green + turquoise carpet and onto tile. Because Junie screaming? This. Is. Serious.

Is there a diamondback rattlesnake hissing toward my BFF? Or horror-movie blood dripping down the wall? Or her worst nightmare—a busted calculator?

Junie screams again.

The three of us sprint to her.

No rattlesnake. No blood. No calculator.

Her back toward us, her striped pajamas all wrinkled, Junie turns around and removes her hands from her face.

“Ahhhhh!” I scream.

“Ahhhhh!” Brianna screams.

“Is that from the night cream?” Kim asks.

In slow, slogging-through-Jell-O motion, Brianna and I turn to each other. Her face is blotchy and cracked like the dried-out Arizona desert floor. Her mouth forms a horrified O, and she points at my cheeks.

Suddenly, my face is sizzling. I switch into high gear, cranking the faucet on full blast. Maybe cold water will soothe our ravaged skin. Brianna and I flood our faces like the Hoover Dam's cascading over us. My eyes closed, I reach blindly into the vanity drawer and pull out a couple of washcloths. I wave one in Brianna's general direction. Our flapping hands meet. We blot our faces and, hearts pounding, stare into the mirror.

“Ahhhhh!” I scream.

“Ahhhhh!” Brianna screams.

“It's definitely the night cream,” Kim says. Somewhat smugly.

Shoulder to shoulder, Junie, Brianna and I lean
into the mirror. And stare in shock at our red, scaly, peeling skin. Überugly. Poor Junie is the überugliest of all.

“What's going on, girls?” The Ruler's feet scurry along the hall. She pops her head into the bathroom and ogles us. “Oh my.”

We turn our sad puffy faces toward her like three little sunflowers in search of the sun. Well, more like three homely lizards.

The Ruler inhales sharply. She glances at the cosmetics on the counter. “Which product did this?”

I hand her the bottle of Nite Sprite Creme.

She skims the ingredients. “Papaya acid is the only abrasive ingredient. But there's so little of it….” She morphs directly into fix-it mode. “Let's try a gentle, nonperfumed hydrating lotion. And something for the swelling.” She blasts outta the bathroom.

The Ruler's perfect to have around in crisis situations. She's calm, cool and collected. Plus she's big on never running out of supplies like Band-Aids and Tylenol and real-fruit Popsicles.

“Why do I let you talk me into stuff?” Junie moans to me.

“Your freckles are definitely faded,” I say.

Junie's staring into the mirror and grimacing. “Be quiet, Sherry.”

Brianna brushes her hair forward over her face. Completely.

I gently prod my chin. It feels tight, like a stretched rubber band. “This is so bad. I'm supposed to meet up with Josh later this aft,” I say. “There's no way I'm gonna let him see my face.”

Brianna peers out between strands of hair. “Try this.” She lurches around the bathroom. “I can actually see better than you think.” After crashing into the toilet a couple of times, she parts her hair with her fingers to make bigger eyeholes.

“I don't know, Bri…,” I say.

“That look suits you, Brianna,” Kim says.

I glare at her and she flounces back to my bedroom.

“You're worried about not seeing Josh?” Junie's voice screeches like the parrots at the zoo. “I could be permanently disfigured. Permanently. As in, forever!” Her pitch soars on “forever,” nearing a level called hysterical. “While
you
might have to put off a date for a day?” Her eyes are wild and crazed. “Look at this.” She gently clamps her index finger and thumb on a piece of loose skin and it flakes off.

No doubt about it, Junie's face was much harder hit than mine or Brianna's.

The Ruler zips back with four bags of frozen organic peas and a tube of something. She hands a bag of peas each to me and Brianna and two to Junie. “We need to get a leg up on the swelling. Hold these
bags against your face, girls, for about fifteen minutes.” She waves the tube at us before setting it on the counter. “Then liberally apply this zinc ointment. It's full of vitamins A and E and will really help with skin cell repair. I'll make some green tea for you.” She pauses, thinking, her forehead scrunched up. “With a little burdock and aniseed in it.” She heads to the kitchen to brew up the curing concoction.

In my bedroom, Junie, Brianna and I drop to the floor. Lying on our backs, we balance the frozen peas on our faces.

I close my eyes and lie there, going numb. Every once in a while, I move the peas from my left cheek to the right to my forehead to my chin. I'm an equal opportunity patient.

Junie set her phone alarm and when it beeps, I pop up, peas sliding to the carpet. “Cream time.” My frozen face has trouble forming the words.

Back in the bathroom, we dry off. I unscrew the tube and squirt out a white dollop on Brianna's hand. An herbalish scent fills the small area.

“P.U.” Brianna wrinkles her Rudolph nose. “That's disgusting.”

Any other time, I would agree, but today herbal smells like healing.

“Give me that.” Junie grabs the tube and squeezes out a mountain into her palm.

“You guys look rough.” Kim leans against the
bathroom door frame and stares at us with her perfectly oval, milky-skinned face.

She's feeling pretty superior about being a Jane.

“I'm starving.” Kim clamps a hand on her hip.

“What's for breakfast?”

We don't even bother answering, but rub the thick ointment into our pores.

Her face all greased up and ghostlike, Junie pushes past Kim and grabs her phone from where it's lying by her pillow. Thumbs dancing over the keypad, she says, “I'm Googling ‘food and skin rejuvenation.'”

Brianna and I crowd around the tiny phone screen.

“I don't know what silica is or what it has to do with skin repair, but it's in celery and leeks and we have those.” I keep reading as Junie scrolls.

Kim's still hanging out by the bathroom door, watching us and shaking her head. “See why I don't wear makeup?”

“It wasn't
makeup,”
I say. “It was night cream!”

“Oh look”—Brianna points at the screen—“all this stuff's good for our nails too.” She flutters her hands in the air. “Hey, I got these new nail gems, and longer nails would so show them off.”

Brianna's not the most focused. Pretty much every sparkly object catches her eye.

“How about something from the zinc category?”
Junie asks. “To work in conjunction with this cream.”

Kim rolls up her sleeping bag, then goes into the bathroom. She returns with her toothbrush and toothpaste, which she shoves in her suitcase.

“I'm thinking eggs, pumpkin seeds and a can of salmon.” Junie clicks from website to website.

“I don't think you guys can get normal by school tomorrow,” Kim says. She pulls up the handle of her suitcase and scoops up her sleeping bag. “My mom's on her way.” She exits my bedroom.

Brianna peeps out from behind her hair. “She's gonna open her big fat mouth about this before we even get to our lockers Monday morning.” She drops her hair back into place. “You should never've invited her.”

“Don't worry,” I say. “It won't happen again.”

“Leave me off your guest list next time too,” Brianna mutters.

I'm beginning to think Brianna is a fair-skinned friend. A little blotchiness and she's all snappy and sarcastic.