Thirteen Read Free Page A

it!” Cinnamon said.
    â€œIt’s too red!” Dinah said. “I look like a…like a streetwalker!”
    Aimee laughed. “Sweetie, you do not look like a streetwalker.”
    She kept scrubbing. “I do!”
    â€œDinah, stop,” Cinnamon said. She grabbed Dinah’s hand. “You’re not used to it, that’s all.”
    I wasn’t used to it, either. I was confused by what I was feeling, which I recognized by its prickly claws in my stomach.
    â€œHonest, you look fabulous,” I said, trying to push the jealousy away. Jealousy was stupid and wrong, especially when it came to Dinah. I should be happy she looked so great! I was happy. I was .
    â€œAnyway, it’s just for fun,” I said. “Nobody says you have to make yourself up every day.”
    â€œYou’ve got to get that lip stain,” Cinnamon said. “That has to be your one thing.”
    â€œWell, don’t force her.” I laughed. “Dinah, it’s totally up to you.”
    She got off the stool, easing herself down until her feet touched the floor. It was downright weird seeing this beautiful Dinah. I couldn’t get over it.
    Aimee patted the stool to say it was my turn, while Dinah gravitated to one of the mirrors on the counter.
    I tore my eyes away. I hopped up on the stool and straightened my spine. Then I felt stupid and let myself slump. Then I felt slumpy and straightened up again. Ack! Why was I was so awkward in my body?!
    â€œHold still,” Aimee said. She did her thing with the moisturizer, her fingers light and birdlike, and I focused on soaking into the moment. This is your birthday treat, and you’re supposed to enjoy it , I reminded myself. It was part of my normal existence to give myself instructions like this. Maybe other people acted and lived in total naturalness. I often wondered if they did. But me? I needed an operating manual.
    â€œFor you, we’ll go with dark brown eyeliner,” Aimee said. “You have such pretty eyes. We want to emphasize that.”
    That made me feel better. Pretty eyes, I have pretty eyes. Were Dinah and Cinnamon catching this? No, Dinah was still peering at her at reflection and Cinnamon was uncapping lipsticks and testing them on her forearm. I felt a stab of irritation. I’d watched them get made over. Shouldn’t they be watching me?
    Cinnamon felt my gaze and glanced up. “Looking good!” she encouraged.
    Aimee applied a pink glitter dust called “Rock Star” to my eyelids, and she used a miniature comb to smooth my eyebrows. “You’ll probably want to pluck eventually,” she said, “but let’s not worry about that now.”
    What was that supposed to mean? Am I a hairy, over-eyebrowed beast? Or—oh god. Maybe I had a monobrow?
    â€œDo I have a monobrow?” I asked.
    â€œNot at all,” Aimee said. “Everyone can benefit from a little shaping, that’s all.”
    â€œOh,” I said. But what I thought was: Then why didn’t you mention it to Cinnamon and Dinah? Couldn’t they benefit from a little shaping, too?
    I really, really hated how needy I was feeling. It was as if it came out of nowhere.
    â€œUm…should we use the Moon Glow?” I asked.
    â€œNot with your skin tone,” Aimee said.
    I wanted to argue, but didn’t.
    She reached into a drawer and pulled out a steel something-or-other that looked like it came from the Middle Ages. It was curved at the end, with a black cushiony pad between two parts that opened and shut. Aimee put her hand under my chin and said, “Okay, look down for me.”
    I did. She clamped my eyelashes and squeezed. Ah , I thought. An eyelash curler . It didn’t hurt. She did the other eye, then stroked brown mascara on both with a fat brush. She finished up with a pale pink lip gloss.
    â€œThere,” she said.
    Dinah and Cinnamon stopped doing their own stuff and gathered