I’m not exactly sure what the look is Grant is giving me, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was along the lines of you belong in an insane asylum. “Did you finish the paper for Ms. Adams?”
“Yeah …” I stretch my arms over my head to elongate my body. I see Alyssa do it a lot during pageants when she’s tired. Every guy within a twenty-foot radius can’t help but stare at her, much to the chagrin of the pageant moms. But Grant turns back to Josh to talk about sports.
I decide to up the flirting. I take a piece of paper from my pocket and throw it on the ground. “Oops,” I say as I turn so my back is facing them and bend down to grab it. I do it slowly, so he has time to fully get the effect of my butt.
I pause for a few seconds to make sure he had plenty of time to get a good look. I turn around … to find that Grant and Josh have left.
“Where did they …?” I say to a stunned Benny. “What happened?”
“Yeah, that was real helpful, Lex,” he says dryly. “They left the second your back was turned. Was that even serious?”
“Did you not just see me flirting with him?”
“Is that what that was?” He nudges me playfully.
“Please, he just can’t handle my sweet moves.” I’m refusing to let Benny know how completely horrified I am right now. I grab his hand as we head to class. “I’m sure Grant’s totally picking out an engagement ring right now.”
Or a straitjacket.
I get to thinking on my way to lunch that, yes, I did humiliate myself in front of Grant and Josh, but I survived it. I haven’t really heard any murmurings about my mental health as I’ve walked down the hallways between classes. And so what if they think I’m crazy? What’s the worst thing that could happen?
I see Hannah and Brooke ahead of me.
“Hey, guys!” I say enthusiastically as we enter the cafeteria. I don’t know why I have this rush of confidence, but I want Benny to see me talking to people that I’m not used to hanging out with. Maybe then he’ll have the confidence to simply say hi to Chris. That’s all I’m asking for. One “hi,” no butt-in-the-air required.
“Oh, hey,” Hannah replies before looking away from me.
Hannah’s father works at the SuperStore with my mom. While my mother works the customer-service desk, he’s a senior vice president at the corporate office. Needless to say, they do not run in the same circles.
“Did you have a good weekend?” I ask loudly.
Hannah turns around to make sure that I’m still speaking to her. “Yeah, I guess.”
Brooke sticks her slim hip out and impatiently taps her fingers against her lunch tray, which has a bottle of water and a banana on it.
“Did you have fun at Josh’s party?” I ask.
They both exchange looks, probably forgetting that they mentioned they were going fourteen times while I was waiting on them at The Cellar.
“It was fun. I posted some pictures on my profile if you want to see them,” Hannah offers, probably not sure what else to say.
Brooke looks at me without an ounce of interest. I believe “dead eyes” would be the best description. “Yeah, then you can pretend that you were there.” She turns on her heel.
Hannah opens her mouth, but decides against saying anything else. She gives me a little shrug and heads to the table with the Chosen Ones.
Cam has her eyebrow raised as I approach the table in the corner that she, Benny, and I have sat at every semester. “Why were you talking to Hannah and Brooke?” she asks.
I look at Benny. “To prove that you can talk to someone and it won’t kill you.”
Benny ignores me and continues to eat his fruit salad.
And then I see him. Chris. Walking into the cafeteria.
“There he is.” I motion toward the front of the room.
Benny glances up briefly.
“You have to say hi to him. You promised.”
He hesitates. “Okay, I’ll say hi. But if I do, you have to wear makeup tomorrow to school. And lip balm doesn’t count. I want mascara, eye shadow.”
He’s still on this?
“Fine. But if you want mascara, I want a full-blown conversation. At least two questions.”
“I’ll do three questions if you wear your hair down,” he counters.
Cam keeps looking between the two of us like we’re speaking a foreign language.
“Fine.” I gesture my hand in Chris’s direction. “Go on.”
“Now?” Benny’s eyes are wide with horror.
“Yes, now!”
He shakes his head. “Can’t I at least wait until we’re done with lunch? I don’t want to go over there and interrupt him. As soon as he stands up and leaves for his locker, I’ll do it.”
“Okay.” He has a point. Plus, this way I can walk behind him and make sure he keeps up with his end of the bargain.
“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” Cam finally asks.
We fill Cam in on our negotiations. She stays silent for a little bit afterward. I’ve been secretly hoping she’d take my side in all of this. I don’t really see why I need to put makeup on. It’s not like I’m going to magically become a beauty queen and all my problems will just fade away. At least if Benny talks to Chris, it will be a beacon of hope, something for him to hold on to until we can finally get out of this town.
“Don’t you think Lexi would look hot if she got all dolled up?” Benny asks Cam.
“Did you just say ‘dolled up’?” I tease him.
Cam shrugs her shoulders. “Yeah, I’m sure Lexi would look good with makeup on, but she’s also gorgeous as is.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Benny says defensively. “I’m just saying that she believes this nonsense that she’s not pretty. So she goes out of her way to live up to this stereotype that’s only in her head.”
“I’m right here,” I feel the need to remind him.
“I know. You’re gorgeous, Lexi, you are. I hate that you’ve let other people’s opinions influence what you think about yourself. Especially when those people are delusional.”
“So you’re basically saying that if I put some lipstick on, I’ll suddenly become this super-happy person who’ll get loads of dates.” And he thinks other people are delusional?
“No, that’s not …” Benny stammers. “I meant …”
“Let’s just drop it,” I say coldly. “I’ll wear makeup to school tomorrow. The sun will set and we’ll all go on with our lives.”
Silence falls on the table. I know both of them are only trying to help, but when I spend every weekend surrounded by some of the most beautiful girls in the state of Texas, I know better than anyone that a little eye shadow isn’t going to make much of a difference in my life.
I hear a small noise escape Benny’s mouth. I look up to see Chris walking with his empty tray over to the counter, which means he’ll have to walk right by us.
“Just do it,” I encourage him. “Don’t think, do.”
His face has gone completely white. But he stands up warily.
Chris sees Benny as he walks by and gives him a slight smile. “Hey, Benny.”
He knows his name!
“Hey,” Benny says pretty casually (although I know he has to be dying inside).
He walks with Chris, and Cam and I get up to trail behind when I see Taylor Riggins approaching me, waving. I look behind me. Clearly he couldn’t be looking for me.
Unless he’s heard about my hot flirtatious moves and wants a piece.
Yeah, right.
“Just the person I was looking for.” Taylor smiles at me.
I steal a look at Cam, who shrugs her shoulders and takes off after Benny.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“So, my mom wants me to get some new clothes for college visits, and I figured we’d go to The Cellar when you were working to make it less painful on me.”
“Oh.” Of course he wants something from me. Why else would someone like Taylor talk to me? He’s gorgeous with a tall,
lean build and emerald-green eyes. He’s popular, on the football team (although in Texas, one of the requirements to being popular is to BE on the football team). He could only be coming to me for help with his wardrobe.
“Great. So when are you working?” He reaches into his bag and pulls out his phone.
“Tomorrow night from six until close, and then all day Sunday.”
“Okay.” He runs his fingers through his shaggy brown hair. “I guess we’ll come tomorrow.”
“Sounds great.” At least I know I’ll have one good sale.
“All right!” He lifts his hand up for me to give him a high five. I oblige and notice Benny in the corner.
“What happened?” I ask when I get over to him.
“Oh, you know, nothing really …” He acts coy. “Chris and I talked and he said he’d save a seat for me in study hall!” He has the biggest grin on his face.
“That’s awesome!”
“I know!” He gives me a hug. “Now what were you doing talking to Taylor ‘überhot’ Riggins?”
“Don’t get excited.” Really, Benny should know better. “He wanted to know when I’m working next so he can come get some new clothes. So he’s coming to the store with his mom tomorrow night. No biggy.”
Benny gives me a mischievous look. “I’ve changed my mind — you don’t have to get dolled up for school tomorrow.”
“Thank God.”
“Instead, you have to do it for work tomorrow.”
“Are you kidding me?” I think this might be even worse. Does Benny expect that I’ll throw on some mascara and suddenly Taylor will fall for me?
“Stop it. If you wore more revealing clothing, then maybe you’d feel sexier,” Benny says with a crooked smile.
“If Taylor and I were the only people left on earth and the sole hope for survival of the human race was for us to hook up, well, unfortunately it would be the end of humankind as we know it.”
Benny leans in so he’s only inches away from me. “If you started to see yourself the way that we see you, you’d know no one could resist you.”
“If Taylor had to choose between seven minutes in a closet with me or a gaggle of hungry zombies, I’m sure he’d at least ask me to be the timekeeper for his zombie fight.”
“Ugh,” Benny groans. “Okay, I get it, I get it. So, what are you going to wear tomorrow night?”
Mackenzie’s makeup kit is essentially a giant toolbox that’s bright pink with Princess and Mackenzie stickers all over it. I open it up and start setting out the items I need for tonight.
I already have my hair in rollers and my Benny-approved outfit on my bed. I’m required to wear at least one item from The Cellar when I’m at work. Luckily, their jeans fit me well, so I’m going to wear those, and a long blue tank over a gray tank with a big belt. I have to admit, it was fun picking out a cute outfit for tonight, deciding to highlight my figure instead of concealing myself. I’ve been in a personal funk for so long, maybe Benny’s right, maybe it’s time to get back to the person I was before.
My mind wanders back to when I first became interested in clothes. I was five when I started drawing my own designs for outfits. I’d just gotten my first Barbie doll. I’d take wrapping paper, or newspaper as a last resort, and cut out outfits for her. It started simple enough, with a tube dress. Then I moved to more intricate designs (I still have this Oscar-red-carpet-worthy dress I made when I was ten out of shiny red wrapping paper. I spent hours on this floral design that weaved from around the top of the dress to the bottom. Once I finished with it, I knew that I couldn’t play with that Barbie any longer. I had to preserve her.)
I’ve seen Mac get her hair and makeup done countless times. Usually, if she’s in a grumpy mood, I have to hold her hand or play a game with her so she’ll sit still. So I think I know what to do. At least I should be able to put on some mascara and eye shadow: How hard could it possibly be?
I open up the foundation, place it on a sponge, and start to apply. Mac’s skin is a little darker than mine, but I think this should look good; it makes me look like I’ve gotten some sun. I reach in and grab the darker blush, since I’ll need it to be brighter to stand out with my now-darker skin tone.
Then I begin working on my eyes. She doesn’t have neutral colors, so I decide to try blue to match my tank. I line my eyes with dark navy, and then use a lighter color on my eyelids. I use a few coats of mascara, but poke myself in my right eye with the wand. As I blink, trying to recover from getting black junk in my eyes, tears start to form.
I run over and get a tissue to try to stop the makeup from smearing.
The timer sounds, letting me know I’m supposed to take the rollers out. I start to unravel the rollers from my hair and notice that my hair has formed into tight ringlets. I bend over and try to shake out my hair to get it to calm down. It won’t budge. I guess I now know how much hairspray is too much.
I step away from the counter and study myself in the mirror.
My hair, which I wanted to be in loose waves, looks like my muse was a deranged Shirley Temple–like zombie. Maybe if I brush it out, I think. I grab a comb and can’t even get it through my hair. Okay, it should calm down after a while. Or at least I hope.
I finally step back to study my entire face and realize I look like I’ve come out of three rounds of a heavyweight championship boxing match. The blue makes my eyes looked bruised and my right eye is red from the unfortunate stabbing of the mascara wand.
This is a disaster. Why did I think blue eye shadow would look good on me? I guess the real question is: Why did Benny think that all it would take to transform me into a Glamour Girl was a little makeup? What a joke. But not the funny, ha-ha kind of joke, the what-on-earth-possessed-you-to-be-so-stupid kind.
I glance at the clock and see that I only have twenty minutes before I have to leave for work. I cannot be seen in public like this.
I turn the faucet on and start washing my face. Even soap isn’t getting this stuff off. My once-white washcloth is now beige and blue. I turn to Mac’s kit for industrial-strength makeup remover.
After five minutes, my face is finally clean. I grab my hair and try to tame it into a ponytail, but it isn’t budging. I don’t have time to wash it. I grab a few clips to at least get it to settle down. I throw open my closet and grab last season’s fedora hat that was all the rage at The Cellar. At least my manager will be excited to see me wearing two Cellar items today.
So much for my bet. I shrug, grab some blush and lip gloss, and hope I didn’t just give myself pinkeye.
As I open the bathroom door, I hear a strange noise coming from the living room. I freeze when I realize that it’s Mom crying.
I gingerly tiptoe into the room and see her slouched over her desk.
“Mom?” I say quietly.
She jerks herself upright and automatically starts wiping away the tears. “Oh, I thought you were at work.” I notice that she’s rearranging a stack of bills like they’re a deck of cards.
“Is everything okay?”
“Fine.” She waves her hand at me dismissively. “Just a long day at work. Nothing to worry about.”
But I know there is something to worry about, and it’s been something we’ve had hanging over us for years. The pageant spending is getting out of control.
I rack my brain trying to think of something that I can say that won’t lead to a fight. What I really want to say is, Stop doing pageants!
Mom turns around and looks at me. I’m expecting her to open up, to finally admit that it’s gotten to be too much. That she can’t keep going on like this.
“Aren’t you going to be late for work?” She turns her back on me and picks up a piece of paper to read.
I stand there for another beat before I head out. I don’t know why I thought that she’d make any kind of admission to me. Or that she isn’t in denial.
I guess it runs in the family.
I’m more grateful than ever to have the distraction of work. Folding
and refolding clothes can be therapeutically mind-numbing.
“I knew it!” I hear Benny’s voice from behind me. I turn around to see him looking me up and down, shaking his head. “You promised.”
“Hear me out …” I lead him over to the shirts and start holding up different options for him to look at. The Cellar has a very strict no loitering policy. Benny comes in often to visit me and I make him try on stuff since I’m usually bored. Benny doesn’t really like the clothes here; they’re too “generic” for his liking.
“We had a deal.” He looks disappointed.
“Yeah, we did, but I’m a complete novice and couldn’t handle a simple task of putting on mascara or doing my hair.” I take off my hat to show Benny the rat’s nest that currently resides on top of my head.
“What did you do?” he says incredulously as he touches my hair. “It feels like straw.”
“Yeah, I had some issues.” I shrug my shoulders.
“Well, this doesn’t count. You have to try it again.”
“Why?” I ask. “You’re talking to Chris, so pretty much we both got what we wanted.”
Benny looks disappointed. “Not really.”
I groan. “Benny, you’re talking to him. It’s a start. What else do you want?” I hand him a T-shirt to look at as my boss, Mark, starts circling us.
He holds up the shirt and says to it, “For you to become the person you deserve to be.”
Seriously? He needs to drop this already.
“I can’t really talk right now.” I start randomly picking clothes up and straightening them. “I tried it. Epic fail. I’m not meant to be that kind of girl.”
“You could ask for help?”
“Who can I ask? My mother?” I shake my head. “Not going to happen.”
Benny continues to follow me around the store. “Oh, I don’t know. What about the hundreds of people at the beauty pageants you go to every weekend?”
“Are you for real?” But I can tell by the look on his face that he is. And he’s not going to leave me alone until I give in. “Fine. I’ll ask this weekend and I’ll wear makeup to school on Monday.”
“I want the full week.”
Revenge of the Girl With the Great Personality Page 4
