I So Don't Do Makeup (4 page)

“Hi, Josh. Whatcha doing?”

“I'm at the mall.”

“Seriously?” I mouth to Junie,
He's here!
Then I point to my face, my eyebrows up and questioning.

You're fine
, Junie mouths back. With both index fingers, she points to her own face.
Not like me!

“What are you doing at the mall?” I ask Josh while
staring at myself in the mirror. Do I
really
look close enough to normal for a boyfriend encounter?

“Sherry,” Lacey says, “I'll touch up your makeup when I'm done with Junie.”

I mouth
Okay
.

“Nick and I are here doing recon,” Josh says. “Trying to figure out who to interview for our video.”

“You're with Nick?” I'm watching Junie as I repeat the info.

She gets a wild-eyed, caged-animal look.

“Are you and Junie free? Wanna meet us at Jazzed-Up Juice?”

“Uh, oops, I have another call coming in. Uh, it's The Ruler. And you know I have to answer those. I'll call you right back. Bye.” I snap my phone shut. “Junie, they want to meet at Jazzed-Up Juice.”

Junie looks like she's gonna throw up.

“What should I say?”

“No!” she screeches. “Say no!”

“Hold still.” Lacey's got a glob of foundation on a sponge wedge.

“You can't avoid Nick forever,” I say. “Can you keep your head turned or something, and I'll block you?”

Junie sighs.

“China clay is the best concealer ever invented.” Lacey sponges Junie's cheeks, forehead, nose and chin. Then, with the pads of her fingers, she quickly pats the concealer on evenly. “I swear it could cover
cracks in a sidewalk.” Next, with a huge brush, she dusts on powder. “Cool, huh?” Lacey says, stepping back to admire her handiwork.

“It's incredible!” I say. It's not a miracle, but it's a massive improvement.

Junie makes faces in the mirror, checking out how she looks with a frown, a smile, her eyebrows raised, her head turned. “I do look less, uh, damaged.”

“So?” My eyebrows and shoulders jump up in a question.

“Yes, we'll hit Jazzed-Up Juice.”

I text Josh to say we'll be there in five, then switch spots with Junie. Lacey gives me the same makeup treatment. When she's done, I say, “A million thank-yous.” Because I look fantastic. Truly.

Then, arm in arm, Junie and I skip down the aisle to Jazzed-Up Juice. Well, more like I'm skipping and dragging while she's shuffling. Partly I'm skipping because I'm looking A1. Partly I'm skipping because I'm meeting Josh. If I were meeting Nick, I'd be shuffling too.

Nick and I just don't click. He's always giving me a hard time. Which, of course, I so don't deserve.

Skip, skip, skip. Drag, drag, drag. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle
. Past Brittani's Baubles and Movie World and the amazing Sequins, where I will one day buy my prom dress.

“I'm so torn, Sherry.” Junie tightens her grip on
my arm to slow me down. “I'm excited about seeing Nick, but at the same time, I don't want to see him at all because of my face.”

“Love
is
strange.” I can say this with experience. Josh and I have been an item for over three months.

Junie and I are jaunting along at a steady pace, when into my brain leaps a creative thought about my BFF. “Junie, we could easily direct attention away from your skin and in a beautiful, colorful way.” I stop skipping, drop Junie's arm and start scrounging around in my purse.

Junie halts mid-shuffle and regards me. Warily.

It takes a few minutes to find what I'm looking for because in some ways, my purse resembles a black hole. But eventually, I pull out a small, rectangular plastic container. “Thickly applied eye shadow!” I point toward the restrooms. “We can zip in here, and I'll brush your lids with a couple of coats of navy and dark gray.”

Junie grabs my elbow and motors me away from the restroom entrance, spitting out a word with each step. “Sherry, I am not ever taking any chances with you and makeup and my face again in this lifetime. Ever.”

Humph. We jaunt along in silence after that. Probably Junie is feeling sorry about her unkind remark to me. The makeup incident was not my fault!

Josh and Nick are waiting for us at Jazzed-Up
Juice, where they scored a table and four plastic chairs. Josh spots me and holds up a cup. He waves us over, pointing to the middle of the table, where the drink he already bought me sits. No doubt it's Strawberry Swirl, my fave. The boy knows my taste.

Nick pushes back his chair and stands when we get close. He kind of stares at Junie's face, but, thankfully, has a moment of social smartness and doesn't blurt out something stupid and tactless. “Junie, what juice strikes your fancy?”

Strikes your fancy? Seriously, dude, talk middle-school English.

Junie, however, giggles at his question. The two of them amble up to order, holding hands.

I slide into the chair next to Josh. He gives my shoulder a squeeze, sending neurons zinging along my arm.

“I got you a medium Pure Peach.” He smiles.

Strawberry Swirl. Pure Peach. Close enough. Josh's wearing one of his baggy ska band T-shirts. The blue letters—
TUCSON TUNES
—totally accentuate his Lake Havasu blue eyes. His shaggy light brown hair with chlorine-bleached streaks shines in the overhead mall lighting. And his megawatt smile lights me up inside like I'm a jack-o'-lantern.

“What took you guys so long?” he asks.

“Makeup kiosk. Did you see Junie's face? And
that's the new and improved version. How do I look?”

“Great, Sherry. Like always.”

I glow. And it's not the face cream.

“Just don't stare at Junie. She's pretty sensitive about it all.” I wasn't going to say anything, but I end up blurting out the whole story. “And everyone blames me. Which is totally unfair.”

He gives my shoulder another squeeze.

Nick and Junie return with their juices. She chose a green tea mixture. Smart girl, remembering the skin revitalization diet.

“Sherry, with your science grade, I can't believe you experimented on Junie's and Brianna's faces.” Nick pushes out a chair with his foot.

There he goes, giving me grief again. I force myself to get along because I don't want to mess up the double-dating thing, but I don't have to like him.

“No one knows exactly what went wrong, Nick,” I say through gritted teeth. “Don't be so quick to pin it on me.” Interesting that Junie confided in him. She's obviously tighter with Nick than I realized.

“You guys get any interviews lined up?” Junie forces a quick subject change.

“No, but we came up with a title.
Revealing Phoenix,”
Josh says.

I can tell by the way he juts out his chest that it
was his idea. Which doesn't surprise me. Josh is a well-rounded guy. He listens to music. He has loads of friends. He's a high-voltage water polo player. And he has the occasional scholastic moment.

“Our goal is to highlight a variety of slices of life in Phoenix. Josh is interested in interviewing security for the scoop on shoplifting, animals that wander into the mall, and the like.” Nick slides the wrapper off his straw, then proceeds to fold it up, accordion-style. “I'd like to tackle more hard-hitting subjects—sales, finance, the economy.”

Josh and Nick launch into a discussion of their many
Revealing Phoenix
ideas.

Yawn, yawn, yawn.

I scoot my chair closer to Josh's. Under the table, he reaches out and takes my hand. Now I don't care what Nick drones on about; I'm in hand-holding heaven.

From somewhere in the continent called my purse, my phone beeps out a text alert. I am so not letting go of Josh's hand to check my phone. So not.

“How about an interview with the information desk,” Junie says. “They handle lottery ticket purchases—” She breaks off mid-sentence and pulls her phone from her jeans pocket. She frowns. “Sherry, it's from Amber. She needs to see us immediately at the kiosk.”

I sip a little Pure Peach. I inhale a big whiff of
chlorine + laundry soap, l'eau de Josh. Our fingers are happily intertwined. And I hang there, content, immersed in this quiet moment of romance. “Uh, tell Amber I'm busy.”

My phone beeps again. I ignore it again.

Junie's phone pings with a new text. “It's Amber.” She slides her phone across the table to me.

Ack. Eek. Ike.

J
osh and Nick take off to do something video-ish. Junie and I race over to Naked Makeup.

“Amber told me you're, like, a detective,” Lacey says to me.

“'Cause of your mystery-solving experience,” Amber says, “with the rhinos when we were in San Diego.” She looks at Lacey. “Sherry even got her picture in the paper.”

Puffy with pride, I feel like the Pillsbury Doughboy. “Junie was majorly involved too.”

“Thanks, Sherry,” Junie says.

“I need your help.” Lacey's face is serious. “Desperately.”

A mother in a wrinkled T-shirt and sweatpants
pushes a stroller with her sleeping baby. She rolls up to the kiosk.

Lacey sucks in a breath. I'm sure she doesn't want to spill in front of a customer.

“Hi, Courtney!” Amber says.

“I didn't realize you'd changed jobs.” Courtney reaches into the diaper bag hanging from the back of the stroller and pulls out a blush container. “I was looking for you at the department store counter, and a girl sent me down here.”

“Yay!” Amber says. “I'm glad you found me.”

“Yeah, well, you're the only person who understands my skin tone.” She hands the blush to Amber. “This is what you sold me at the other place. Got anything similar?”

“Similar, but better.” Amber leans across the counter and starts flipping fast through containers of blush. “You will absolutely love Naked Makeup.”

And she's right. Amber finds blush and eyeliner that Courtney can't resist.

When Amber's almost done ringing up the purchases, Courtney waves a package of pink emery boards. “Can you add this to my order? Or am I too late?”

With sparkling eyes, Amber looks up from the buttons on the register. “Courtney, you're chill.”

Courtney's grin takes over her face.

Because when Amber beams on you, it's like she
invited you to the popular kids' lunch table.
And
is sharing her sandwich with you. This is why customers flock after her, following her from one end of the mall to the other, all to buy a bunch of makeup.

The second Courtney's out of hearing range, Lacey grabs my arm. “You have to help me, Sherry. This kiosk is the most important thing in my life.”

“It's true,” Amber says. “It's her dream career.”

“I still work as a cashier at Discount Mart”—Lacey drops my arm—“but that's only till the kiosk brings in enough money to support me.”

“Besides, Discount Mart's just a job.” Amber draws out the
o
in “job.”

“What happened with the lip gloss?” I ask.

Tongue between her teeth, Junie's überintent and paying attention. This is pretty much her style all day long at school. Which explains her nothing-but-As report card. The girl's professionally focused.

“Yesterday afternoon a girl bought lip gloss.” Lacey taps her long decal-decorated nails on the counter. “She had it custom-blended.”

“Watermelon,” Amber says.

“And she returned it today.” More nervous nail tapping. “Because it burned her lips.”

“Any chance it's just a bad batch of gloss?” I ask.

If Lacey shakes her head much faster, it'll fly right off her neck and knock over a poor unsuspecting
shopper. “Naked Makeup is a good, solid all-natural product. I totally stand behind it.”

Amber moves in close, so it's like the four of us are a clique. “It gets worse,” she says.

Lacey shoves her hands in her lab coat pockets.

“Yesterday morning, for a different customer,” Amber says quietly, “I mixed up a white-chocolate-plus-mint gloss. It was returned after I texted you about the first gloss return.”

Shoulders stiff and tense, Lacey says, “Same complaint as the watermelon gloss.” She opens a kiosk drawer and pulls out two absolutely adorable pink pots with butterflies on the lid. She hands them to me.

I open the pots and sniff. Watermelon and white chocolate + mint. I pass them to Junie.

She sniffs. “Did you try them?” She sets the pots on the kiosk counter.

“Yeah,” Lacey says, “on our wrist.”

I pick up the jar of Q-tips and hold it out to Junie like I'm offering appetizers.

“Only use a small amount.” Amber gestures with her head to a few spritzer bottles by the register. “And don't move far from those. They're filled with water.”

Junie and I each pry out a Q-tip. I dip one end into the watermelon pot and scrape up a smidgen of gloss. I flip to the other end and do the same for the white chocolate + mint.

I dab an iota of each on the inside of my left wrist.

Junie watches me.

I hang.

Nothing.

Then a fizzy feeling prickles my wrist. Exactly the way Pop Rocks crackle and sizzle in your mouth.

“Yowzer!” It's as if someone pressed a lit match against my skin. I lunge for the spritzer bottle. And squirt. And squirt. And squirt.

Lacey grabs some paper towel from under the counter, folds it, drenches it with water from another spritzer and places it over my wrist. “This'll help.”

“Imagine that on your lips,” Amber says.

Ack. Eek. Ike.

Junie drops her Q-tip in the cute little pink trash can.

“What is it with Naked Makeup?” I press down on the paper towel. “First the night cream. Then the lip gloss. Beauty isn't supposed to be dangerous.”