Mom and Grandma are already at the pharmacy, and it feels weird to think that I could just stay home today, play hooky, and they’d never know. By the time they usually get home, around six, I’ll be home from school anyway. Or I could just go over to the pharmacy around three thirty, when I’d normally be out of school. Either way, I could spend the whole day on the couch watching daytime television shows that I only get to see when I’m sick. I could order in pizza or Chinese food. I could do anything, really.
Knowing this kind of makes me feel powerful, and knowing I’d never do it makes me feel like a wimp. But since they’re not here, I decide I can wear a little more makeup than I’d normally wear to school. Usually, I wear colorless lip-gloss and a little blush. But today I put on green glitter eye shadow and my favorite new product: my Pink Lollipop Extra Glossy lip-gloss. Just these little touches make me feel more dressed up.
Mrs. Ramal honks to let me know they’re here. I lock the front door and sling my heavy backpack over one shoulder. Walking over to the car, I see that Sunny’s in the front seat and Yamir’s in the back, with the huge model of the earth next to him.
He pushes the model over to the other seat and hops out of the car. “You’re smaller than the earth, so you get to sit in the middle,” he says.
So I slide in, and I’m smooshed between the earth and Yamir. I have to fiddle around for my seat belt, and Yamir doesn’t even try to help me find it. I’m touching his thigh, and I don’t want to be. God. Why do car companies make the middle seat belt so impossible to find? Sitting in the middle is bad enough, yet they found a way to make it even worse.
“Ooh, Lu-Lu, we’re so close right now.” Yamir laughs. He’s right—we are close. I can smell onion bagel on his breath, and I try as hard as I can not to gag.
“Mah-ahm!” Sunny yells. “Tell Yamir to stop being disgusting.”
“Yamir,” Mrs. Ramal warns. “Please behave like a gentleman.”
Sunny says, “Yamir, only you would make this huge, annoying project for a stupid club.” She looks back at us. “Lucy, it’s not even for Science. It’s for Earth Club.”
“Really?” I turn to look at Yamir.
“It will also be entered in the county science fair, which I only get to enter because of Earth Club. There’s a five-thousand-dollar prize if I win,” Yamir tells us. “And that’s not all. There’s a trip to—”
Mrs. Ramal interrupts him and says, “Sunita, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if you joined some after-school club. I’d like to see you take an interest in something meaningful.”
Sunny turns to look back at me again, and she bursts out laughing.
“It’s not funny,” Mrs. Ramal says. “I have been thinking this for a while, and now is the time I’ve chosen to say something. I would like you to join some activity.”
Now both Sunny and I are laughing, but I’m not even sure why.
“Lucy, you could do it too,” Mrs. Ramal adds. “If your mother says it’s okay.”
Until recently, I took art lessons. That was my extracurricular. And Sunny does Indian dance. But I guess Mrs. Ramal thinks we should do a school thing.
“Yeah,” Yamir says, sticking his tongue out at the back of Sunny’s seat. Then he smiles all good-boy-like at me.
Yamir Ramal really knows how to start the day off wrong.
On our way into school I tap Sunny on the shoulder, right in front of the Juicy Juice machine. “Sun, I have to tell you something,” I mutter.
Her shoulders perk up. “What? And are you wearing perfume today?”
“No, it’s my Pink Lollipop lip-gloss. Doesn’t it smell delicious?”
Sunny nods.
I let out a long breath. “Okay, I have to make this quick—first period starts soon. I think the pharmacy might be going out of business.” It hurts to say that out loud. I love Old Mill Pharmacy. I love the memories I have from all the time I’ve spent in the store—like when I was little and Grandpa used to push me around in the shopping carts after the store closed. And when Grandma would make Claudia and me root beer floats at the counter, even though Mom really didn’t want us to have soda.
Sunny’s response is slow, almost like a delayed chemical reaction. First her eyes bulge and her mouth opens, but no words come out. And then she gives me a look. “Really?” She looks around and then whispers, “Why?”
“Business isn’t good anymore. People just go to, like, big stores where they can buy groceries and clothes and their prescriptions all at the same time.”
“But those stores don’t usually give the personal touch,” Sunny insists. “And my dad says a lot of those stores are bad to their workers.”
I shrug. I know she’s trying to make me feel better, but I don’t know what else to say. Sunny and I walk through the hall silently. After a few minutes she asks, “How can you be so calm about this?”
“I’m not calm. I’m just tired, so it seems like I’m calm,” I tell her. It’s a relief to tell Sunny this, but it does make me tired talking about it.
“Well, I’m going to tell my mom to shop at the pharmacy every single day from now on. She already gets prescriptions there, but I’m gonna tell her that she has to buy at least one thing there a day. Even if it’s just gum.”
“Thanks, Sunny,” I say. “Oh, but guess what? I do have some cool news!”
“What?” Sunny’s shoulders perk up again.
“So this girl Courtney Adner,” I start. “She’s in high school, you probably don’t know her. I only know her because of Claudia. But anyway, she came into the pharmacy after she had this really bad hair situation at a salon on the night of homecoming, and—”
“Lucy! Get to the point!” Sunny says.
“And I fixed her hair. Right there in the pharmacy! I knew these two products would work, and they did!”
“You gave her a makeover?”
I throw my hands up. “Yeah! I guess so!”
“That’s awesome, Luce,” Sunny says, putting her arm around me.
It’s good to hear that from Sunny, because I do feel really awesome about how I was able to help Courtney.
We get to our lockers, and I’m taking some books off my top shelf when someone bumps into me, really hard. “Move out of the way,” I hear Erica Crane say. “You’re blocking my locker.”
Very unluckily for me, Erica Crane’s locker is next to mine this year. Erica’s been mean to me for as long as I’ve known her, since we were five, but there’s never been a real reason for it. She’s just always hated me. She never shared the toys in kindergarten, and she threw my lunch in the garbage for four days in a row in third grade. And in fifth grade, when her mom forced her to invite the whole class to her birthday party, she handed out the invitations in school but “accidentally” lost mine and never found it.
It’s just a fact of life: Erica Crane hates me. Always has, always will.
“I’m not in your way,” I say. “I’m in front of my locker.”
“Shut up, Lucy,” Erica says. “And by the way, lay off the scallion cream cheese. Your breath stinks, and you have scallion pieces in your teeth.”
I turn away from her and clamp my lips shut. I grab Sunny by the arm and lead her into the bathroom so I can check my teeth.
Beauty tip: Using too much conditioner
can make hair oily and greasy.
after school. “My mom’s forcing me to join Earth Club,” she says as soon as I answer. “I don’t have a choice. It’s either that or extra classes at the Hindu temple.”
“Really? Why?”
“She thinks I spend too much time watching TV.”
“Well, you do watch a lot of TV,” I say, propping my feet up on my desk.
“Thanks. Will you go with me?” Sunny asks.
I pop a few more mini chocolate-chip cookies into my mouth. “Sunny!” I whine. “Do you understand what my life is like these days? I spend every waking minute that I’m not in school at the pharmacy.”
Sunny groans. “Lucy, please. Y
ou’re home right now, just eating cookies.”
She’s right. Sunny knows me too well. “I really don’t have time,” I say. “My grandma even said that I’m going to be stocking the shelves. Seriously, I’m like an actual Old Mill Pharmacy employee now.” Even though I complain, I don’t really hate it. I’d be proud to be an official Old Mill Pharmacy employee.
“Please, Lucy, please,” Sunny begs. “I hate doing stuff alone. You know I’d do it for you.”
She’s right about that. She would do it for me. I guess it’s not such a big deal. The pharmacy can survive without me one afternoon a week. And all the clubs give snacks, so that’s one incentive.
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll do it. But only for you. And you definitely owe me!”
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Sunny shouts.
All through school the next day, I’m dreading Earth Club. I’m tired and I have tons of homework to do, and even the cookies they’re going to have aren’t enough to make me want to go. Still, I said I would. And Grandma didn’t seem mad about it at all; she said there wasn’t much work to do today anyway.
Mrs. Deleccio is the faculty member in charge of Earth Club. She was my and Sunny’s science teacher last year, in sixth grade, and she’s really nice.
“We have a few new members today,” she says. “Welcome, Sunny and Lucy. We’re going to finish up the recycling project this afternoon. There are still about ten classrooms that need recycling boxes, so I need people to volunteer for that, and also to volunteer to collect the recyclables from the other classrooms.”
We break into groups according to which project we want to do. Honestly, I don’t want to do either. I’m tired after a whole day at school, and both jobs sound really boring. Sunny wants to do the emptying of the recycling boxes, so I figure I might as well do it with her. And there are about ten people in that group, which means less work for me. But Yamir’s in that group too, and I have no idea why Sunny would want to be in the same group as her brother.
“Luce-Juice, go get the recycling box from Mr. Bodesti’s classroom, and empty it into this bag,” Yamir tells me, like he’s in charge. “Now!”
“Please, Yamir. Stop yelling,” I say. I have zero patience for him.
“If you don’t want to be in this club, then why are you here?” he asks me.
“Who said I didn’t want to be in this club?”
He rolls his eyes at me. “You’re weird,” he says.
“This is the most annoying part,” Evan Mass says. “But once it’s done, it’s done.”
I shrug. I’ll be happy when it’s done; he’s right about that.
“How come you guys decided to join?” Evan asks Sunny and me. Evan’s been in our grade since kindergarten. He used to be a normal boy—no big deal. But this year for some reason a lot of girls like him. I mean, he’s nice and everything. But he wears sweatpants to school every day, the kind with tight elastic around the ankle.
“My mom made my sister do it,” Yamir says, answering for us.
“Shut up, Yamir,” Sunny says. “She didn’t make me.”
“Yes, she did,” Yamir says, looking at Evan. “My sister would prefer to sit on the couch eating Pringles every day.”
“Shut up, Yamir,” I say.
I hate when he insults Sunny like this, in front of other people. It’s terrible that they’re so close in age. I’m glad there are six years between Claudia and me, instead of just one.
Evan says, “Sunny, remember in second grade when you, me, and that girl Denise had to do that pinecone art project together?”
Sunny raises her shoulders and squints like she just tasted something sour. “Yeah, I think so.”
“So, you were into this kind of stuff then,” Evan says.
Sunny just stares at him and doesn’t say anything.
Suddenly there’s all this awkwardness in the air, and I really want it to go away.
“All right. We gotta finish, guys,” I say.
As soon I say that, Sunny empties the recycling boxes into the garbage bags that I’m holding. One is for glass stuff and one is for plastic stuff. We do three more classrooms on the east wing of the school, and then, finally, we’re finished.
This experience has been painful. Painful, annoying, and boring, kind of like the pharmacy can be sometimes.
I’m only doing this for Sunny.
Business tip: When customers come in, ask them to fill
out a slip with their name, address, and birthday. Then
when the time comes, mail them a birthday coupon.
birthday party. She pretty much has the same party every single year—a sleepover at her house. Me, Megan, and Cassandra are going. And Mallory too. The new girl.
I guess she’s really not that new anymore, but I still think of her as the new girl. Not in a mean way. But when Grandma asks me about my friends and I mention Mallory, she always asks, “Oh, the new girl?” So that’s why I call her that.
Sunny’s the youngest girl in our grade. She’s just turning twelve, and some kids have been thirteen for months already.
It always feels like Sunny’s birthday sneaks up on me. When her birthday rolls around, I wonder how it got to be the end of October already. Wasn’t it just the first day of school? That’s always what I’m thinking, every single year. I’m thinking that now too, as I’m wrapping her present.
I’m doing an extra-good job on the wrapping part. I love wrapping presents. My favorite thing is to take the edge of the scissors and press it against the ribbon to curl it. I especially love the sound it makes. And when the ribbon curls up perfectly, I feel like a real artist.
Every time I curl the ribbon like that, I always think of my mom. Her hair is so spirally curly that it kind of looks like it was curled with the edge of the scissors. I wish my hair looked like that. People like Mom and Claudia and everyone else who has spiral curls are so lucky.
The wrapping is complete with curlicue bows and ribbons and all the trimmings. I never wrap presents at home since the pharmacy has a huge selection of wrapping paper. And even though I’m doing a top-notch wrapping job, I bet Sunny will be way more excited about what’s inside.
I got Sunny exactly what she wanted, what she’s been talking about since last April: dangly, beaded earrings. Claudia has a pair, and they’re from Italy. Claudia got them from her annoying best friend who travels all over the world and gets whatever she wants.
When Sunny saw Claudia wearing the earrings, she freaked. Really freaked. She begged Claudia to let her try them on. Claudia said yes, of course. She’d never be rude to Sunny the way she sometimes is to me. After that, Sunny talked about them constantly. And even though I don’t see the big deal, I decided to get them for her for her birthday. Claudia told me I could order them online, and even though they’re pretty expensive, Mom and Grandma said Sunny was worth it. I ordered them before all the going-out-of-business money talk started. I bet Grandma and Mom regret letting me buy them now.
But one thing is for sure—my present will definitely be Sunny’s favorite.
“Look at that wrapping job!” Grandma says, walking into the pharmacy office. “You’re hired for holiday time. You’re practically a professional gift wrapper!”
It’s good to know she thinks the pharmacy will still be open come holiday time.
I’m waiting for Mom to drive me over to Sunny’s when I hear someone say, “Is that the girl?”
I’m the only girl in the store right now, so they must be talking about me.
I don’t know if I should let on that I heard them, or if I should just go about my business until they come over to talk to me.
La-di-da. I sit there in one of the flimsy prescription-area plastic chairs, holding Sunny’s gift, pretending I didn’t hear anything. Then I see shadows standing over me. When I look up, I see Courtney Adner with a few of her friends.
“This is my hero,” Courtney says to the other girls. “She’s the one I’ve been talking about.”
“Hi,” I say to them, smiling.
“Lucy, those products were amazing! Especially that Natural Color solution. It was like magic,” she says. “Seriously.”
“It really is great stuff,” I tell her. I’m so happy the products worked. I knew the Fix-a-Frizz was a success, but that couldn’t do the job by itself. And I’m even happier that she just called me her hero.
“How old are you?” one of the girls asks me. “You saved my friend from horrible hair humiliation at homecoming. You’re like a hair-care prodigy.”
“I’m twelve.”
“She’s Claudia Desberg’s sister,” Courtney says.
“Ahhhh, now it makes sense.”
I chat with Courtney and her friends for a few more minutes, and I have to admit it’s kind of nice to have these high school girls oohing and aahing over me. Who doesn’t like that? And I feel so happy knowing that my hair advice really helped her. She went to homecoming and looked amazing, and that was partly because of me!
Is it bad that I sort of hope more people will come in with hair emergencies so I can help them too?
After we’re done talking, Courtney and her friends raid the makeup aisle and then the hair-product aisle, and I realize that this is one of the best days the pharmacy has had in a long while, thanks to Courtney Adner and her hair disaster.
I’ve always been . . . interested in making women look
as beautiful as possible while making them look
like themselves.–Laura Mercier
that I’m the first one to get to Sunny’s house. I like to be the first one there, to get settled before the others arrive. I don’t feel like any old guest at Sunny’s parties. I’m a VIP.
Sunny’s mom opens the door, and she’s wearing her red KISS THE COOK apron over her clothes. Sunny’s house always smells like a combination of curry and coconut. “I’ve been baking nonstop for you girls,” she says as I walk inside. “Sunny asked for cupcakes and a birthday cake, plus I had to make my oatmeal-chocolate-chip cookies just for you.” She winks at me.
PG01. My Life in Pink & Green Page 3
