Thirteen Read Free

naked thing again.
    â€œDo me,” Cinnamon said. She hiked herself onto the stool. “I want smoldering, baby.” She growled. “I am a tigress!”
    â€œYou got it,” Aimee said.
    She smoothed moisturizer over Cinnamon’s skin to provide “a good base” and explained that Cinnamon didn’t need foundation. “None of you girls do,” she said. “Enjoy it while you can.”
    She stroked green eye shadow over Cinnamon’s lids, which she said Cinnamon could pull off because of her green eyes, and used a black eyeliner around her eyes. “But only from the middle of the iris out,” she said. “You don’t want your eyes looking squinched together.”
    Cinnamon blinked at Aimee’s touch, although she was clearly trying to hold still. The eyeliner made Cinnamon’s eyes “pop,” to use Aimee’s expression.
    She finished the look with jet black mascara and something called a “color brick” on Cinnamon’s cheeks. It was a cool shimmery blush that was a mix of three different pinks.
    â€œTa-da,” she said, twirling the stool so that Cinnamon faced us like a painting.
    Dinah drew in her breath. “You are so gorgeous!” she said.
    â€œYeah?” Cinnamon said.
    â€œYou look terrific,” I said. She did, in a striking, daring, club-girl way that was perfect for her. It was a look I could never pull off. It just wasn’t me. “You look so old!”
    Cinnamon hopped off the stool and picked up a hand-held mirror. “Aw, man, I love it,” she told Aimee. “And I already know I want that color brick thing for sure. Or maybe the eye shadow!”
    â€œWould you wear the eye shadow to school?” I asked.
    â€œYes,” Cinnamon said, like, Of course, why wouldn’t I?
    â€œYour turn,” Aimee said to Dinah. She patted the stool. “Hop on up here, sweetie.”
    That made Cinnamon and me laugh. Sweetie .
    Dinah blushed. Out of all of us, she had the absolute least experience with makeup, because of having no mom or stepmom or older sisters. And because, even though she was twelve, she didn’t always act it. When it came to makeup and boys and stuff like that, she acted more eleven-ish, or maybe even ten.
    Like how she was wiggling backward onto the stool, adjusting her bottom by lifting up one cheek and then the other. When it was my turn, I’d do a quick, confident hop, like Cinnamon had. I wouldn’t adjust my bottom.
    â€œLet’s see,” Aimee said, tilting her head to study Dinah’s features. Dinah held her smile in a way that showed she knew she was being scrutinized. Round face, white skin, blue eyes—that was Dinah. My little kitty-cat girl, so not a tigress. Which was as it should be. In a threesome of friends, there isn’t room for more than one tigress.
    Aimee got to work with something called “Moon Glow,” which she said would “add radiance” to Dinah’s skin. “It has reflective particles that catch the light and bounce it back,” she explained. “Angelina Jolie uses it.”
    Dinah giggled. She jutted her chin forward to meet Aimee’s touch.
    Aimee stroked on a smoky eye shadow and lightly lined Dinah’s blue eyes with gray eyeliner. I noted how she did it, with lots of small dashes rather than one continuous line. She used a tiny brush to paint Dinah’s lips with a deep cherry stain.
    â€œThere,” she said. “What do you think?”
    Dinah looked in the mirror. Cinnamon and I leaned over her shoulders.
    â€œWhoa,” Cinnamon said when she got her words back. As for me, I remained speechless. Dinah looked…beautiful. How had Aimee done that? Was it the cherry-red lips? Or maybe it was the Moon Glow. Dinah’s skin was luminescent.
    â€œOh my gosh,” Dinah said. She put down the mirror and grabbed a Kleenex, rubbing at her lips.
    â€œWhat are you doing? Leave