My Life in Pink & Green

by Lisa Greenwald

  She laughs. “Yeah, let’s not tell them yet. Let me work on it. ’Kay?”

  “Okay,” I say, suddenly feeling a nervous pit in my stomach.

  “But I can’t do it right away. I have three papers due next week.” She sighs. “I gotta go. Love you.”

  “Love you too. But look at it. Okay? We only have until the end of the year.”

  All afternoon at the pharmacy, I daydream about what would happen if we got this grant. I imagine myself on the local news, with Mom and Grandma and Claudia too. And they’re all saying how I saved the day.

  I want to save this pharmacy. But last night as I was trying to fall asleep, I realized something else. I want to be the one who saves the day, the one who makes things better.

  “Lu-Lu. Lu-Dog.” A voice is coming from the front of the pharmacy. An annoying, scratchy, boy voice. Only one person in the world can sound that annoying.

  Yamir Ramal.

  “Lu, where are you?”

  I fold my arms across my chest and walk toward the front of the store. Yamir’s standing there with his buddies. His equally annoying eighth-grade friends, Clint and Anthony. I think they’re his only two friends in the whole world.

  “So, what can you offer us, Lu?” Yamir asks. “Can we get some kind of employee discount?”

  I squint at him, pursing my lips together. He has got to be kidding. “Um, no. And for your information, times are tough for Old Mill Pharmacy. And for more of your information, I wouldn’t give you a discount anyway.”

  “Lu,” Yamir says again and puts a hand on my shoulder. “No reason to get so upset. No reason at all.” Then he breaks out laughing, and so do Clint and Anthony. They raid the snack aisle, and when they’re done they each have at least three bags of candy—the big, jumbo-size bags.

  “We want sodas from the fountain,” Clint says. “Like the good old days.”

  Clint remembers the good old days? I doubt it. Plus, Grandma’s really the only one who ever serves sodas. And I’m sure she’s having one of her daily fights with my mother right now. But I’m glad they ask—maybe my idea of the pharmacy becoming a hangout is slowly coming to pass.

  “Yeah, serve up some soda,” Anthony says.

  “Ever heard of saying please?” I smirk at them. But then I add, “I’ll go see what I can do.”

  The boys sit down on the counter stools and I walk away. I gently put my ear up to the office door. Surprisingly, I don’t hear any yelling. I knock.

  “Come in!” Mom sings.

  When I open the door, Grandma’s sitting at the computer, and Mom is organizing the office shelves. “Sweet Caroline. Ba ba ba,” they sing at the same time. They then burst out laughing.

  Grandma and Mom are singing? And not fighting? What a weird day at Old Mill Pharmacy.

  “Grandma, some boys want sodas,” I say.

  “Okay. The smaller bottles are a dollar fifty, the bigger ones are two twenty-five.”

  “No, they want fountain sodas. It’s Sunny’s brother and a few of his friends.”

  Grandma looks up from the computer; there’s a tiny sparkle in her eye. I know she’s happy about this.

  “Oh, Luce, give them a few bags of kettle corn,” Mom adds. “On the house. My treat.”

  “Jane,” Grandma says, laughing. “Maybe you’re the reason we’re struggling! You’re always giving stuff away!”

  Mom laughs and throws up her hands.

  “What can I get you boys?” Grandma asks once she’s left the office and is walking over to them. She has her Old Mill Pharmacy apron on, the one that Flo embroidered for her about twenty-five years ago. It has the pharmacy’s name on the front in pale pink curlicue script and her name underneath in matching print.

  Yamir and his friends order the sodas and hang out for a while. I know they’re just killing time before their movie starts, but that’s okay. They’re hanging out here, like I’d hoped, and they’ve spent about twenty dollars. And they actually ordered something from the counter.

  Did Mrs. Ramal force them to come here? Is this some kind of pity shopping? Or maybe Yamir’s not as completely awful as I thought. Whatever it is, I’m just glad to have a few customers.

  Business tip: Try to stay on the pulse of all

  that’s happening in your field.

  on the grant application?” I ask Claudia over the phone. I don’t mean to sound rude, but I’m not sure she’s taking this as seriously as she should.

  “I told you, I have a ton going on right now, Lucy.” Claudia slurps her drink. “Did you even bother to read the last section of the application?”

  “Ummm …” I don’t have it in front of me, so I don’t really know what she’s talking about. “Maybe?”

  “We need to come up with a game plan for how we’d like to enhance our store,” she says. “It’s more than just a Going Green Grant. You know that, right?”

  Suddenly I’m feeling nervous, like I never should have gotten excited about this and it’s all going to fall through. “What do you mean?”

  “Okay, Lucy.” She pauses, like she’s trying to find words that I can understand. “Mayor Danes wants local businesses to go green but also to expand so that big chain stores don’t totally take over. But the thing is, I’m not sure we really want to expand. A pharmacy is a pharmacy, you know?”

  “Yeah, Morrie said the same thing,” I tell Claudia. “That people like to get more than one type of item at a place. But all I could think of was the health food Mom wants to start selling and the DVD rentals, like at the grocery store.”

  “Yeah … ,” Claudia says. “Those are kind of lame—no offense. If we’re doing this, we might as well do it. Dream big. Know what I mean?”

  “Yeah,” I mumble.

  Claudia tells me to hold on, and she yells out to a crowd of people that there’s some kind of party at a place called McSaddle’s and that they’re all going over there at nine.

  Thinking about all of this, I realize that I’ve kind of expanded already without even knowing it. I mean, the Relaxation Room. The makeup. Helping Courtney Adner with her hair trauma.

  Claudia gets back on the phone and says, “I gotta go in a sec, Luce. If we can’t think of anything, we’ll just do the health food thing. I’m sure we can always change it later, if we win.” She doesn’t say anything for a second. “Listen, I just want to tell you—I think it’s a long shot that we’re going to win. I don’t want to burst your bubble or anything, but I need to warn you.”

  “Connecticut needs an eco-spa,” I say, out of the blue. Suddenly it seems like an idea that has been percolating in my brain for a while has finally come together. Finally I’ve figured out what to do with my love of makeovers! “Like the one you went to for your birthday.”

  “Yeah, I know. Right? How awesome would that be?” Claudia says, like she’s forgotten what we were just talking about. She gets distracted very easily, especially since she’s been at college.

  “No, I mean that’s what we’ll write. That’s our way to expand! That’s what we need to do to save the pharmacy.”

  “Oh, Luce,” Claudia says in her “you’re cute” tone. “That’s like way expanding. It’s opening a new business altogether.”

  “That’s what Morrie said. That we needed to really start something new. He even said his son wanted to invest!”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, and when you think about it, I practically already have a spa! The Relaxation Room! I guess I was on my way to having a spa the day I solved Courtney Adner’s hair crisis. And think of the makeup applications I could do!”

  In the background, I hear a guy yell, “Claudia. Par-tay tiiiiiiime!” She laughs.

  “Okay. That’s good! I’ll write that down,” Claudia says to me, sounding optimistic. “Can’t hurt. And if Morrie suggested it, then it really can’t hurt.”

  After we hang up the phone, I can’t stop thinking about the eco-spa. If this really happens, it will be amazing. Completely and totally amazing. All because o
f Earth Club and my exceptional eavesdropping skills that day Morrie was at the store.

  Then, after we have the spa and it’s fabulously successful, I can have my own line of makeup to sell at the spa! Maybe I’m closer to being like Laura Mercier than I realized!

  Don’t test foundation on the back of your hand. it’s a

  simple way to see what a color looks like, but the skin

  there is very different from the skin on your face. apply it

  right on your cheek. remember, the perfect color should

  practically disappear. –Laura Mercier

  Miss Popular, but ever since I did her makeup, swarms of girls have been coming in and asking me about it. They tell me they don’t usually wear makeup but they have their cousin’s wedding and they want to look good or they have a family friend’s bat mitzvah or even just a school dance.

  It’s mostly just the high school girls who are into it. The girls in my grade only wear lip-gloss, and the eighth-grade girls think they’re too cool to have their makeup done by a seventh grader.

  “Good afternoon. Old Mill Pharmacy,” I say, checking quickly to make sure I took the phone off speaker. “Yes, this is Lucy.” Mom always tells me to say “This is she,” but that just sounds weird, so formal and awkward. Plus, I like my name.

  “Oh, sure I can,” I tell the person on the other end of the line. “I can do makeup any Saturday or Sunday and any afternoon after school.”

  The woman on the other end of the line tells me she wants me to do her daughter’s makeup for her sweet sixteen. She heard about me from her next-door neighbor.

  “So we’d need your first appointment of the day on Saturday. Saturday, June twelfth,” the woman says.

  I gulp. “June twelfth? But it’s only November.”

  “How old are you?” she asks me, suddenly sounding suspicious. Hmmm. Maybe her next-door neighbor didn’t tell her the full story. I’m tempted to lie, because this could be really good for business. However, she will find out the truth eventually.

  “I’m twelve,” I say. “But trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

  “Ummm-hmmmm,” she says. “Okay, mark us down for that day. My name is Amy Romero.”

  “Got it,” I say. “Well, see you then, or hopefully before!”

  After I hang up with Amy, I realize that I may not be able to keep my little business a secret from Mom and Grandma much longer. Customers are actually calling me in advance, and I’m writing the appointments down on the last page of my planner for school. I need an actual appointment book and an answering service to take calls for me when I’m in school.

  A few days later, I’m doing Lillian Bertella’s makeup for her Quinceañera. We’re in the Relaxation Room, where I’ve done all of my makeup jobs before. It goes fine, but after I’m done, Mom comes up to me.

  “What were you doing in there?” Mom asks.

  I look back at the Relaxation Room as if I don’t know what she’s talking about. I wonder if I should lie. But before I have the chance to decide, words start pouring out of my mouth: “I was doing someone’s makeup.”

  “What?”

  I swallow hard. “Like, you know, like people do it at Saks. Or at a spa.” I clench my teeth. My mom looks horrified, and I’m not sure what to do.

  “Yeaahh …” Mom drags out the word. “For what purpose?”

  “Because it’s her Quinceañera. And she wanted to look good. That’s how Laura Mercier got started,” I say. “And it’s bringing customers into the store. After I do the girls’ makeup, they buy the products!”

  “And why didn’t you tell anyone about this?” Mom asks.

  “I told Claudia.” I shrug. “She thought it was awesome. Plus, I’ve been doing this for a while now. I kinda thought you knew about it.”

  Mom shakes her head at that, like I’m completely crazy. She and Grandma must have been really distracted to never have noticed me doing it.

  “What’s going on here?” Grandma asks, walking over to us. “Jane, I need you in the back. You’ve been dillydallying all day.”

  “Lucy’s been doing makeup for people,” Mom says, her arms folded across her chest.

  “Good for you, Luce. I’m glad to see you’re keeping busy while you’re here. And I’m sure the customers all think it’s very cute.” She looks at Mom and smiles in this “oh, isn’t our Lucy dear” kind of way.

  “Cute? No. People actually make appointments with me. A mom just called about her daughter’s sweet sixteen in June!” Now I’m mad. It would have been one thing if they were angry with me. But for them to just think this is some kind of joke? No way. If they can’t even take this seriously, how will they take it when I tell them about the grant and the eco-spa we’re going to open?

  “Really?” Grandma seems a little more interested now.

  I nod. “I’ve been doing this for a while. It’s kind of weird you guys haven’t noticed,” I say, out loud this time. Mom and Grandma look at each other and shrug. “And I’m also surprised you haven’t noticed how much more makeup we’ve been selling since I started doing this. It’s bringing in a ton of business!”

  Grandma smiles “Lucy, what an entrepreneur you’re becoming.”

  “Thanks, Grams.” I smile and start walking toward the back office. “’Kay, I gotta go finish my vocab homework.”

  As I’m walking away, I hear Mom and Grandma talking, still standing by the Relaxation Room.

  “She really thinks she’s going to save this pharmacy, doesn’t she?” Grandma asks. “I like to see that kind of drive. But I hate to say, I don’t think she can do it.”

  “Ma. Can we have one day without your ‘the world is ending’ speech? Please.”

  “Jane, I’ll stop with that when you face reality.”

  “Why do you want to crush Lucy? Huh? Make her feel like she can’t work toward anything?”

  “Forget it, Janie.” Grandma says this under her breath, but I can still hear her. “Just forget it.”

  Maybe my mom thinks Grandma’s pessimistic attitude is crushing my dreams, but it’s not. I know Grandma’s faith is just running out.

  That’s why I need to pick up where she left off. When they find out about the grant and the spa, they’ll see how much I can do, how much I can help. Then they’ll realize that I can save the pharmacy.

  I can’t wait to tell them. And I can’t wait for the day when adults take kids seriously.

  Business tip: Make sure to take a personal day

  when you’ve reached your limit.

  are completely grant-filled. Claudia’s papers are finally done, and we’re texting, emailing, calling, pretty much using every known form of communication to discuss the grant. She’s read over all the rules and regulations, and now she’s going to start going through it section by section, keeping me posted on her progress. She’s staying at school for Thanksgiving, so she has lots of time.

  And it seems like right after Grandma says I won’t be able to save the pharmacy, the store gets busier and busier. It’s like in elementary school, when we used to have Opposite Day. Like everything is the opposite of what Grandma said.

  I don’t want to take too much of the credit, but the Relaxation Room is where everyone waits for their prescriptions. Before the Relaxation Room, customers would come in, drop them off, and then come back later. Or they’d even pay extra for delivery, before we let Tory go.

  But now they sometimes stay and wait. They hand Mom or Grandma their prescription slip, and then they come to the Relaxation Room and either read a magazine or close their eyes for a minute. They buy a drink or a snack. Sometimes they make phone calls, and even though at first I was going to post a sign that said NO CELL PHONES, now I think it’s okay. They usually talk pretty quietly anyway.

  Mrs. Ramal will be here in ten minutes to pick me up, but a part of me doesn’t want to go to Sunny’s to hang out. Right now there are four people in the Relaxation Room. They’re chatting with one another. Two of them bought magazines, and one, a
teacher, bought a whole box of chocolates to hand out to her first-grade class tomorrow.

  “Sunny, you’re never going to believe this,” I say once Mrs. Ramal arrives and I’m in the car. “Mrs. Ramal, you won’t believe it either.”

  “What?” Mrs. Ramal turns down the Indian music she has playing. She always listens to Indian music. I’ve heard these songs so many times, I practically know all of them by heart, and sometimes I’ll even join in when Sunny and her mom start singing along. I used to ask them what the songs mean, but Mrs. Ramal would just say, “Oh, these two are in love, but they live so far from one another,” and then she’d go into a whole long story about it. It’s better to imagine a story of my own.

  “The Relaxation Room that I created is a huge hit,” I say. “Just now there were four people sitting in there!”

  “Wonderful, Lucy. Just wonderful,” Mrs. Ramal says, smiling at me from the front seat. “When I was there the other day getting Yamir his athletic-foot cream, there were people in there. Perhaps about five, even.”

  Sunny laughs. “Mom, it’s athlete’s foot. Not athletic foot.”

  I try not to laugh, but I can’t help it. Mrs. Ramal’s English is just a little bit off, so it’s funny. She moved here from India when she was seventeen.

  Mrs. Ramal shakes her head. “Athlete’s. Athletic. I don’t see a difference.”

  “Never mind, Mom,” Sunny groans, turning to face me. “Lucy, that’s so awesome!”

  “I’m just happy customers are actually in the store.”

  Mrs. Ramal looks at me through the rearview mirror again. “Lucy, I heard about you and your makeup design. My neighbor was raving about you. She wants to come in with her daughters before her cousin’s wedding.”

  “Oh, thanks.” Wow. I can’t believe how fast word is spreading.

  When we get to Sunny’s house, we have our favorite snack, sugar cookies and apple cider, and then start our magazine reading. I’ve brought over as many old ones from the pharmacy as I could find. We kick off our sneakers, spread out on her daybed, and dig in, folding down pages that we want to discuss with each other later on.