PG01. My Life in Pink & Green

by Lisa Greenwald

  He gives me an obnoxious look, and I realize the Yamir I know is still there. “Well, excuse me, Luce-Juice. My father is the CEO, president, and owner of Ramal Printing, and I have helped him out a few times. For your information.”

  As Yamir is typing and designing and readjusting, I suddenly get very nervous. “Yamir, Sunny. Um, do your parents know you’re doing this? Are you guys allowed to use all the business equipment?”

  Sunny and Yamir look at each other, and then I get even more nervous. The last thing I need is for Mr. and Mrs. Ramal to find out and for me to get in trouble. Then the pharmacy would lose some of its best customers!

  Sunny and Yamir keep looking at each other, not saying anything.

  “What? Guys, just tell me. I don’t want to do this anymore. Let’s just forget it. Okay?”

  Then the two of them burst out laughing. Laughing like they’ve never seen something funnier in their whole lives.

  “What? Guys, stop. Come on.”

  “Lucy,” Sunny groans. “Why are you such a nervous wreck all of a sudden?”

  “Luce-Juice, of course they know. They love your store.” Yamir goes to put his arm around me, and then pulls it away awkwardly. “And I know how to use the equipment. I do it all the time.”

  “Okay, okay.” I smile. It’s hard to believe how nice and helpful Yamir is being with this. I want to give him a hug. But that would be weird. “That’s all I was asking.”

  Finally, hours later, I have a brochure.

  It’s the kind that’s folded in thirds. The Ramals even have a folding machine that does all that work for you. It’s really pretty too—pale pink and pale green with old-fashioned-looking writing on the front.

  “Thank you so much, Yamir,” I say. Yamir printed up a hundred to start with, and he even gave them to me in a Ramal Printing box so that they’re easy to carry home.

  “No prob,” he says. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

  I nod. “Yeah, but thanks anyway.”

  Sunny walks to me to the door. “Are you going to be able to walk home with that box?”

  “Yeah, it’s not heavy.”

  Sunny says, “I really think this is gonna be awesome, Luce.”

  I sigh. “I hope so.”

  Beauty tip: Bangs are a good solution for people

  with large foreheads.

  aren’t overly thrilled with the brochure idea. They think it’s a little obnoxious and it might be taking advantage of people. But the only reason they think that is because I’m a kid.

  But I’m a kid who knows how to do this stuff.

  Plus, it’s not like I’m forcing people to be my customers. I left a few brochures on the table in the Relaxation Room, and other than that, I’m just gonna hand them out to people.

  Mom and Grandma wouldn’t be happy with anything anyway. They’re just in their own world of depression, and nothing will help. Every time I bring up the spa idea, and getting the grant, they just shrug at me like I’m out of my mind.

  It’s Saturday, so I’m hoping some of my regular customers are going to come in. I was so excited to give everyone the brochures, I couldn’t even sleep last night.

  All day, I’m waiting and waiting, staring at the door, hoping to see Courtney Adner or Kristin or even Erin. Finally, around one, I see Kristin and Erin coming in.

  “Hey, Lucy,” Kristin says. “Erin has something to ask you.”

  These girls have the weirdest friendship in the world. Why can’t Erin just ask me herself? “Okay,” I say. Erin’s staring at the floor like she’s scared to look at me. I don’t get it.

  “So . . . I was made a bridesmaid in my cousin’s wedding,” she mumbles, her fingers touching her forehead like she’s trying to spread out her bangs. It takes her, like, an hour just to get the words out. “And my cousin is forcing me to get my makeup done and my hair done, and I hate stuff like that.” She stops talking for a second. Kristin elbows her. “So, can you, like, do my makeup? And do you do hair also?”

  “Sure about the makeup,” I say, all excited and jumpy inside about being able to hand her my fancy brochure. “And I can do hair, but I’m not amazing at it. I can try, and if you don’t like it, you can always go somewhere else.”

  “Okay, cool,” Erin says, turning to look at Kristin, who is jumping up and down with excitement.

  “This is my brochure, so you’ll know what kinds of stuff I do, and the number’s on the bottom, for you to make appointments,” I tell them. Erin looks it over.

  “Ooh! I want one, I want one!” Kristin sings. “Actually I want two—one for Cassandra.”

  I’m glad Yamir printed up a hundred, but I start to wonder if I’ll need even more than that.

  Kristin’s still jumping up and down about Erin getting her makeup done when Courtney Adner and a few of her friends walk in. That’s exactly when Kristin stops jumping up and down and tries to act all cool, reading the backs of the shampoo bottles.

  “Hey, Lucy,” Courtney says, flipping her hair behind her shoulders. “What’s new?”

  “Not much,” I say. “But actually, I wanted to give you a few of these, for you and your friends and neighbors and stuff.” I hand a couple of brochures to Courtney and one to each of her three friends.

  “Fancy schmancy,” Courtney says, and I can’t really tell if she’s making fun of me or not.

  “Well, I wanted to be more professional,” I say.

  “Makes sense,” one of Courtney’s friends says. “Well, prom season is coming up, so you’ll get a lot of business.”

  “Cool, thanks,” I say. “Here, take a few more. Pass them out to your friends.”

  They take more brochures. And then another one of her friends says, “This girl is like businesswoman of the year in training.” She smiles at me. Hearing that feels amazing, like I’m truly on my way to being the next Laura Mercier.

  By the end of the day, I’ve given out about fifty brochures, and everyone has been impressed. I feel so good about this. Like I’ve actually done something. Like having it on paper is proof. And when I think about all the people I’ve helped—Courtney, Kristin, Erin, even stupid Erica Crane—I realize I’ve actually done something here.

  And the more I think about it, the more I realize how much Yamir has helped me. But then I wonder how one day Yamir Ramal can be the most obnoxious boy on the planet, and the next he can be a super business helper and designer/ printer extraordinaire.

  How can that be possible?

  Maybe I have been wrong about him all along. Maybe he’s not even all that obnoxious. Maybe he just seems obnoxious because he’s Sunny’s brother.

  Business tip: Think of new ways to advertise:

  Local newspapers, bulletin boards, and

  community-event calendars all work well.

  if it’s the brochure itself or just the fact that I take myself more seriously now that I have a brochure, but whatever it is, the past few weeks have been so busy. It’s finally March, so it’s starting to warm up a little. Maybe that’s why more people want to venture out. I have at least three appointments every Saturday, and usually one or two on Sundays. And people even come in on Friday nights.

  Yamir had to do another printing of the brochure, and this time he printed two hundred to be on the safe side.

  All this is good. But it’s not great. Deep down, I’d hoped that with the brochure, Mom and Grandma would take me so seriously that they’d really have hope for the grant and the spa, but that hasn’t happened. Grandma’s still on the phone with Flo and Morrie all the time. She’s even cashed in a CD, whatever that means.

  Still, I don’t give up faith; after all, that’s what Grandma has always advised. Up until now, anyway. Right this second, in the pharmacy office, she’s giving me one of her “what are we going to do with you?” looks.

  “Lucy, I am so proud of you. You know that, right?”

  “Yeah, I know, Grams.”

  “Lucy, listen,” she says, still giving me that look. “I’m not going to bea
t around the bush here. I don’t want you to get your hopes up. The grant and spa thing—it’s not going to work.”

  After that, no one says anything, not even Mom. She’s sitting at the desk across the office, opening her mouth every few seconds like she has something to say, but no words come out.

  “How do you know it’s not going to work?” I ask, agitated. “First of all, you don’t even know if we’re going to get it, so it’s too soon to say it won’t work. And second of all, maybe a green pharmacy is exactly what we need to make money.” I feel like all of the anger and frustration that’s been building up inside me this whole time is finally about to bubble out all over the place, like a volcano.

  “Lucy, please calm down,” Grandma says. “I know this is hard for you. It’s hard for all of us.”

  “Well, what about all the money from people buying products after I do their makeup?” I ask. “I mean, I just started that professionally, with the brochure and stuff. You haven’t even given it time to really get going.”

  “It’s not enough to save the store,” Grandma says flatly. “I don’t want to take any more risks. End of story.”

  “So, well, what are your plans? Do you even have any ideas?” I ask. Right now, I wish more than anything that Claudia were here. She’d back me up. She’d help me.

  “Someone is coming to look at the store in a few weeks,” Grandma says quietly. “I’ll know more then.”

  “Selling the store is such a stupid idea! Then what are you gonna do with yourselves all day? You’ll end up like Nicole Grimmey’s mother, who’s totally depressed because she has nothing to do!” I’m yelling, and I want to stop, but I can’t. I feel like nothing I do will convince them, none of my ideas will work. I wish I didn’t care about this stuff, but I do.

  “Lucy, I hate to break this to you, but even with selling the store, money will still be tight. We have a mortgage on the store because we refinanced, and we still have bills to pay. We still have debts.”

  Mom interrupts her, “Ma, stop. She doesn’t need to know this. She doesn’t understand.”

  I can’t take it anymore. I hate when they say I don’t understand. “I do understand, for your information.” I stand up and walk toward the door of the office. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have even bothered with anything: the makeup stuff, the Relaxation Room, the brochures. It’s such a stupid waste! I could be out with my friends having fun, but instead I did all this stupid grant stuff and thought of the spa idea, and it doesn’t even matter anyway.”

  On my way out of the office, I hear Mom and Grandma calling to me to come back, but I can’t. I don’t want to. I slump down on one of the couches in the Relaxation Room and bury my head in the hood of my sweatshirt.

  Selling the pharmacy is the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard of. I mean, where will we get money to live on if we do? It’s not like the money from the sale will be enough to support us the rest of our lives. And besides, what will Grandma do all day? She said herself no one’s gonna hire her at her age.

  I imagine her sitting alone in a rocking chair, knitting or something. I don’t even know why—Grandma doesn’t knit. I imagine her hair getting thinner and her skin more wrinkly, and I imagine her really skinny. Is all of Grandma’s talk of selling the store just a sign that she’s getting older?

  The pharmacy is where my best memories come from. Like when Grandpa used to pick me up so I could sit on the counter, and he’d let me have as many cherries as I wanted, even though they were supposed to be for ice cream sundaes. And when Grandma and Grandpa would let Claudia and me come to the store after it was closed and cook us dinner on the grill as we sat on the stools and watched. Grandpa could flip pancakes and omelets perfectly; he could have been a master chef.

  The pharmacy is literally my second home. I feel safe here and happy here, and it’s a part of me. A big part of me. I think how I feel about it is kind of similar to the way some kids feel about the tree houses they build in the backyard, or their sleepaway camps, or their grandparents’ homes.

  But it’s not just a part of me; it’s a part of all of us. My whole family. It was a huge part of Grandpa too; he’s the one who bought the store, who made it what it was for all those years. And now it’s one of the only connections to Grandpa that I have.

  I just don’t get how Grandma’s willing to simply throw all of it away.

  I have to do something.

  Business tip: Give all suggestions at

  least some consideration.

  I half whisper into the phone after school the next day. I found his number in Grandma’s address book. Grandma’s next door with Mrs. Ganzi and Meredith, admiring Meredith’s newly pierced ears. And Mom’s at some antiwar protest in Hartford that she begged Grandma to go to. Sometimes it’s like she’s a kid still, begging her mom to go to things.

  “Yes?” Morrie asks.

  “Hi, it’s Lucy Desberg,” I say, trying to sound as adultlike as possible.

  “Yes, Lucy?” Morrie asks. I guess he’s not one for small talk.

  I lean back in Grandma’s desk chair, thinking of the right way to say what I’m going to say. “Remember when you talked about starting a new business? Like how we should expand?”

  “Hmmm,” Morrie says. “Yes, I did say that.”

  “I mean, like, about Gary and that money he has?”

  “Yes. Mmm-hmmm. What can I do for you, Lucy?”

  “Well, uh, I have an idea for a new business. And one that won’t force us to close the pharmacy.” I pause, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn’t. “Ready to hear this?” I’m realizing something—Morrie really isn’t very good at making conversation. Maybe Gary isn’t either, and that’s why Mom doesn’t like him.

  “Yes, go on,” he says.

  “Well, like, we can open an eco-spa. The video store next door is closed and has been for a while, and we can expand in there,” I start. “And I’ve already been doing makeup, and I set up a Relaxation Room. And I really think—”

  Morrie interrupts me. “Lucy. I see what you’re saying.”

  I’m waiting for him to tell me why it can’t happen. And I’m waiting for him to yell at me for meddling in my grandma’s business. But he doesn’t say anything right away. It seems like hours of silence pass. I don’t know what to say.

  Finally he says, “What about this grant your grandma was telling me about?”

  “Oh, um, well, Claudia and I sent it in already,” I say. I think it’s a positive sign that Grandma mentioned the grant to him. “And part of what we had to write was how we’d expand. And we wrote about the eco-spa. But Grandma won’t believe me that it’ll work. And I think she’s gonna sell the store before we even have the chance to see if we got the grant!” I’m out of breath from talking so fast.

  “I see,” he says.

  Again, more silence.

  “So, yeah, that’s the story,” I say to fill the silence. I can’t think of anything else to say.

  “Let me make a few calls,” he says.

  “Well, do you know what I mean by eco-spa?” I ask. I’m afraid he doesn’t understand me. I’m afraid he’s not taking me seriously.

  “Yes, I do,” he says. “Read Business Monthly. They’re listed as one of the top-ten new business ventures. I’ll be in touch, Lucy. Take care.”

  Beauty tip: Drink a lot of water for beautiful, smooth skin.

  into the phone later that night. “Claudia, I need your help ASAP. And please don’t ask me why I didn’t tell you about this before I did it.”

  “What are you talking about?” Claudia sounds annoyed, like I’ve interrupted her. “And why are you yelling?”

  “Okay, so you know how the pharmacy is, like, falling apart?”

  Claudia groans. “Yeah, Lucy. I know,” she says wearily.

  “I talked to Morrie.”

  “The accountant?” Claudia asks, like it’s completely ridiculous.

  “Yeah. Remember how I told you he suggested that we start a new business?”<
br />
  “Yes, about a billion times,” Claudia says. “Lucy, please get to the point.”

  “Well, I called him. I told him about the eco-pharmacy, how we wrote it on the grant application but Grandma won’t take us seriously. I told him about how I’ve been doing makeup anyway, and about the Relaxation Room. And then he called me back, and he wants to help us!”

  “He does?”

  “Yup!”

  “How?”

  “He wants to have his son Gary invest so that Grandma sees that this is a real business that could work.”

  “Okay, you’re being serious right now?” Claudia asks.

  “Totally serious. Gary will be a partial investor, just to start, no guarantees. He said that, like, a hundred times.”

  “Isn’t his son that weirdo who always wants to go out with Mom?” Claudia asks.

  “Yeah,” I admit. “But whatever. Mom will deal.”

  “Does she know yet?” Claudia asks.

  “Nope. Morrie and Gary are coming over next week,” I say. “Can you come home? So you can be there? This is huge, Claud!”

  “Luce, flights are really expensive when they’re so last-minute,” she says.

  I guess she’s right; I wish she wasn’t at a school so far away. After a few seconds of silence, Claudia says, “Oh my God! I have the best idea. This summer, I’ll help out at the spa. Oh, and we can hire, like, cosmetology students instead of serious professionals, so we can save some money that way.”

  “Good idea,” I say. I’m so glad Claudia’s not telling me I’m crazy.

  It takes me forever to fall asleep once I go to bed. And even though I should be excited about all of this, I feel worried still.

  Beauty tip: Try not to chew on your

  lips when you’re nervous.

  you’re going to be so proud of me,” I say first thing when Sunny and I get to Earth Club.

  “I’m always proud of you, Lucy,” she says. That’s the response all teachers would give, I bet.

  “Yeah, well. Guess what?”