Chapter 12
T
he next day, I felt embarrassed. I knew Evan had no right to say what he did, but I also could have toned down the lecture a bit. The scene swirled in my brain, and each time it did, it left queasy currents pulsing in my belly. It's not that I cared what those jerks thought of me, but I preferred it when they
didn't
think about me. Now I'd be “that girl who made a scene at the bonfire.”
But it wasn't just them. I couldn't stop thinking about the way Bobby's fingers laced with mine. The whole scene gave me a rush, and I didn't know what to make of it. But before I could contemplate further, Lilly knocked on my door. I knew her knock alreadyâfour gentle taps.
“Madison's here,” she said through the thick wood.
I placed my hairbrush back on my vanity. “Okay. You ready?”
“Yeah. You sure you want me to go?” She opened my bedroom door.
“Of course.” I slid my auburn hair into a leather headband and gazed at my reflection.
“Hey, are you cool with everything? 'Cause last night was pretty intense. And I know you're still fighting with your parents about Teresa, so I really wouldn't be offended if you didn't want to deal with my issues with Madison right now,” Lilly stated with sincerity.
I stood up from my vanity and smiled. “I'm fine, really. Let's just go.”
We bounded down the steps and out the front door to Madison's waiting sedan. The candy-apple paint sparkled with a freshly washed gleam. She had only had the car three months, and I think she'd washed it more than a half dozen times.
I opened the back door and climbed in.
“Oh, I didn't know your cousin was coming,” Madison stated, frowning into the rearview mirror.
“Good to see you too, Madison,” Lilly snipped.
“Oh, it's no big deal. We're just shopping. I figured you'd already have plans.” Her blue eyes glinted with insincerity.
“Lilly's never been to Suburban Square, or any other American shopping plaza for that matter. I figured who better to initiate her.”
“Cool.” Tweetie, her Chihuahua, popped out of her giant purse.
“You're bringing your
dog
?” Lilly said with attitude.
“Of course,” Madison snapped quickly, as if every socialite needed a two-pound dog to shop with. (She may have been right.)
“Anyway,” Emily interrupted, twisting her neck to look back from the passenger seat. “Are we shopping for anything in particular?”
“Are we ever?” I asked.
“No,” Madison and Emily replied in unison.
“Shopping is a professional sport in Spring Mills,” I whispered to Lilly.
“Gee, and I thought football was exciting.”
Â
The Square was mobbed. Not surprising considering that it was an outdoor shopping complex in an upscale community, on a warm day, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. We strolled down the sidewalk past high-end children's stores, kitchen gadget shops, men's tailors and women's boutiques. Our first stop was always the makeup counters.
We strutted into the high-end shop. Its hardwood floors shined under the dangling spotlights. Tall black walls of shelves were stocked with blushes, lipsticks, powders, and foundations, representing every luxury brand found in the latest glossy magazines. A collision of perfumes filled the air with a mix of tangy fruit and flowers.
“Hi, Caroline.” Madison waved to the clerk behind the counter. Tweetie barked hello from his leather tote.
“Madison, darling! Great to see you. You know we got in some new fall colors. I just have to show them to you. You're gonna
love
them.”
The spiky-haired blond waif dashed off to fetch the bounty as I strolled to the lip wall. Every shade in nature, and several never intended for human coloring, was displayed in sticks, mattes, glosses, creams, and stains. Lilly plucked a tester of purple glitter gloss and peaked at the price.
“Twenty-six dollars! For
one
lipstick! Are you nuts?” she asked, a wrinkle popping between her brows.
“It's
gloss
, not lipstick. And, yup, that's about what you'll pay here,” I answered as I ran my finger over a tub of sheer peach.
“You can buy, like, five lip glosses anywhere else for that price.”
“Not in this brand,” Madison explained as she sauntered over. “See, the glosses you wear, what are they? Wet 'N Wild?”
She and Emily giggled. I could tell Lilly didn't get the joke.
“Anyway, the cheap glosses rub off in less than an hour. But
these
glosses,” Madison continued, as she slid the wand out of the deep mauve tube, “these will last until you eat. And even then, some stays on. Trust me, they're worth the money.”
“You have to reapply less. And they're not sticky,” Emily added.
Lilly dropped her chin and gawked at them. I knew there was no language barrier, maybe just a culture barrier built on status. Madison grew up surrounded by money; four lipsticks for one hundred dollars seemed like a bargain to her. To Lilly (and most of the world), makeup was not a major purchase. It was something you bought in the same store as your toilet paper and your greeting cards.
Just then, the sales clerk returned with a wire basket full of cosmetics.
“Is this your friend?” she asked.
We nodded.
“I'm Lilly.” She smiled meekly.
“Oooh, love the accent. Very exotic,” Caroline greeted her before clutching my cousin's face. “Beautiful skin ... You know, let me show you this new highlighter we got in. It'll really brighten up your skin tone and make those cheekbones pop.”
Caroline rifled through her basket until she found a tiny iridescent bottle.
“You know to do this right, we really need to remove all of your makeup,” she suggested. “These colors just aren't working. The pinks and purples clash with your complexion. You want to show off those freckles, not hide them!”
“I know,” Madison agreed. “Cool tones are all wrong for her.”
“She's right,” Caroline continued as she thrust Lilly onto a tall, white plastic stool. “You're an âautumn.' ”
“A what?” Lilly asked, her forehead clenched.
“Relax, honey. We don't want wrinkles,” Caroline warned with a wag of her finger.
“Maybe we should try that gold shadow,” Madison suggested.
“Yes! With the bronze liner!”
“And the mocha gloss.”
“But with the coffee pencil, just to plump them up.”
“Brown mascara?”
“No, brown-black.”
“And some eyebrow shadow.”
“With a slightly higher arch.”
Madison and Caroline shifted into a language that was incomprehensible to most people, Lilly included. Yes, Lilly wore a lot of makeup, but it was clear she had no training. Having lived with her mother, I knew she didn't have a positive influence when it came to makeup application. Mrs. Sanchez wore blue eyeliner and matching cobalt shadow. I was lucky Lilly didn't coat herself with fuchsia frosted lipstick on the first day of school. My mom, on the other hand, preached the less-is-more method. Her makeup bag consisted of an SPF moisturizer, lip gloss, mascara, and tweezers.
“Mariana,” Lilly whispered, swatting at me with the back of her hand. Caroline was already soaking cotton balls with makeup remover. “They're expecting me to pay for this,
verdad
? Because I don't think my mom's monthly checks are going to cover it.”
Caroline paused immediately and glared at us. Then Madison gently placed her French-manicured hand on Lilly's shoulder.
“It's on me. Consider it your welcome present.”
Lilly looked at Madison, and after a few moments, they both smiled. It was the first time the two of them had expressed anything other than forced civility toward one another. I took a deep breath, and my smile spread from ear to ear. Finally, Lilly was getting a glimpse of my real best friend. Sure Madison had her over-the-top, spoiled princess moments, but she was also the most generous person I knew. She couldn't go into Philly without putting money in the hands of every homeless person we passed. And she was loyal to the core. She'd take a bullet for me if she could, just as I would for her. It was like I was finally getting my life back.
Nearly an hour later, Lilly was sporting a newly improved cosmetic look, which cost Madison's dad about two hundred dollars (not including Madison's charges, like a state-of-the-art eyelash curler and a hydrating Tahitian facial mask). We headed to a local café, predictably bustling with a mix of students and soccer moms. The smell of coffee and chicken soup filled the air, and the buzz of classic rock poured from the sound system. It was a typical Saturday.
We plopped down at a small round table, meals in hand. Emily and Madison ordered veggie wraps, while Lilly and I split a turkey club and a chicken Caesar salad (with the full-fat dressing). I already knew Madison wouldn't eat more than a morsel while in public view. I think Tweetie's travel water dish and dog chow constituted more nourishment than what her owner consumed on a daily basis.
“I can't get over how pretty your eyes look. Maybe I should wear more makeup,” I stated as I stared at Lilly's freshly lined lashes, her lids were shaded in deep neutral tones.
“No. I like that you don't wear makeup. It's your âthing,' ” said Emily as she chewed.
“Consider yourself lucky. If I didn't wear cover-up, I'd look like one of those âbefore' pictures in the acne infomercials,” Madison joked.
I scanned Madison's peachy complexion. It looked airbrushed it was so perfect.
“Madison, you know you don't have a single pimple.”
“Thanks to Dr. Cohen. God bless him.”
Half our high school saw a dermatologist. Our parents had such stellar medical coverage that a visit to a doctor and prescribed medication cost less than buying an over-the-counter treatment at the local pharmacy.
“Madison, you know, thanks for paying for all that stuff. It was really nice of you... .” Lilly said, as she caressed her polished cheek.
“Hey, it's the least I could do.” Madison grinned.
Just then, the bells jingled above the café doors. I swiveled my head and saw Betsy Sumner stroll in with Evan and Chad behind her.
I elbowed Lilly and gestured toward the door.
“Oh, hey, Betsy!” Lilly called, waving wildly at her friend.
I kicked her shin under the table.
“Um, do you not see who she's with?” I whispered.
“Oh,” Lilly grumbled as she caught a glimpse of Evan.
“What? What's going on?” Emily asked, twisting her neck toward the entrance.
Betsy was already strutting toward our table. Her friends stayed in the doorway.
“Hey, Lilly!” Betsy cheered as she approached. “Um, Mariana.” She stared at the wall as she addressed me.
“Hi, Betsy.” Lilly smiled. “You know Madison and Emily.”
“Oh, hi.”
Madison and Emily faked grins, and Tweetie growled on cue as if she could sense Betsy's insincerity (good dog).
“Hey, by the way, don't worry about Evan. I think we're gonna eat somewhere else. I don't want any trouble.”
“Trouble? Why would we start trouble?” Madison asked, shaking her head.
“Because of what happened last night.”
Madison blinked at her.
“At the bonfire,” Betsy stated, stretching her eyes.
My friends' faces shot toward me as I bit my lip. I hadn't yet told them what had happened. I was trying to forget about it altogether (and trying to avoid an argument for not inviting them).
“Anyway, they said they'd let it go. I mean, you were just defending your cousin
.
” Betsy glared at me. “So don't sweat it. They're still cool with
you,
Lilly.”
She smirked, swished her dirty blond waves over her shoulder and spun towards the door. I caught Evan snarling at me like an opposing football player. If he had had a torch, he would have used it.
“What the heck was that?” Madison asked.
“It's nothing,” I mumbled, shoving a forkful of lettuce into my mouth.
“It kinda looked like something,” Emily added.
I glanced at Lilly. She shrugged, then turned her focus back to her sandwich.
I told Emily and Madison the whole story. Everything from my spontaneous decision to attend the bonfire to my retelling of Evan's Sunday school horrors to overhearing him ridicule Bobby. They listened, in stunned silence, until the end.