I So Don't Do Makeup Read Free

It’ll glow and sparkle and shimmer,” I say. “It’s got magic mini moisturizing beads.”
    Junie picks up the Nite Sprite Creme bottle. “The beads are filled with vitamin E and dissolve over several hours.”
    â€œWe’ll totally own Saguaro Middle School come Monday morning,” I say.
    Propped up against the bathroom wall, Brianna nods sleepily.
    We wash off our makeup, then smear thick peach-colored unscented cream from our necks to our foreheads. Total coverage. I hit Junie extra hard because of the Freckle Fade. Only her tiny brown eyes squintout from a sea of orange. Kim steadfastly refuses to join in. Which just goes to show how stubborn a Jane can be.
    I’m already snuggled in my sleeping bag and halfway to dreamland when Junie says, “My face is tingling. Are you sure this stuff is okay, Sherry?”
    â€œI’m sure. It’s from Amber,” I mumble into the dark. “Go to sleep.” I roll over. “Suck it up for beauty.”
    â€œYeah, but is your face tingling?” Junie asks. “Brianna, how about you? How’s your face feel?”
    Brianna gives a little nasally snort. She zonks out fast.
    â€œBe quiet,” Kim complains.
    Three of us dream of beauty and baby-soft skin. One of us dreams of plainness and a business degree.

chapter
two
    H igh-pitched screams rudely rip me from the middle of a delightful dream where Josh and I both have unlimited texting. When I enter the conscious world, I’m tapping on my thigh.
    More screams. From the bathroom. It’s Junie.
    Brianna, Kim and I catapult out of bed, fly over my sea green + turquoise carpet and onto tile. Because Junie screaming? This. Is. Serious.
    Is there a diamondback rattlesnake hissing toward my BFF? Or horror-movie blood dripping down the wall? Or her worst nightmare—a busted calculator?
    Junie screams again.
    The three of us sprint to her.
    No rattlesnake. No blood. No calculator.
    Her back toward us, her striped pajamas all wrinkled, Junie turns around and removes her hands from her face.
    â€œAhhhhh!” I scream.
    â€œAhhhhh!” Brianna screams.
    â€œIs that from the night cream?” Kim asks.
    In slow, slogging-through-Jell-O motion, Brianna and I turn to each other. Her face is blotchy and cracked like the dried-out Arizona desert floor. Her mouth forms a horrified O, and she points at my cheeks.
    Suddenly, my face is sizzling. I switch into high gear, cranking the faucet on full blast. Maybe cold water will soothe our ravaged skin. Brianna and I flood our faces like the Hoover Dam’s cascading over us. My eyes closed, I reach blindly into the vanity drawer and pull out a couple of washcloths. I wave one in Brianna’s general direction. Our flapping hands meet. We blot our faces and, hearts pounding, stare into the mirror.
    â€œAhhhhh!” I scream.
    â€œAhhhhh!” Brianna screams.
    â€œIt’s definitely the night cream,” Kim says. Somewhat smugly.
    Shoulder to shoulder, Junie, Brianna and I leaninto the mirror. And stare in shock at our red, scaly, peeling skin. Überugly. Poor Junie is the überugliest of all.
    â€œWhat’s going on, girls?” The Ruler’s feet scurry along the hall. She pops her head into the bathroom and ogles us. “Oh my.”
    We turn our sad puffy faces toward her like three little sunflowers in search of the sun. Well, more like three homely lizards.
    The Ruler inhales sharply. She glances at the cosmetics on the counter. “Which product did this?”
    I hand her the bottle of Nite Sprite Creme.
    She skims the ingredients. “Papaya acid is the only abrasive ingredient. But there’s so little of it….” She morphs directly into fix-it mode. “Let’s try a gentle, nonperfumed hydrating lotion. And something for the swelling.” She blasts outta the bathroom.
    The Ruler’s perfect to have around in crisis situations. She’s calm,