Best Friends...Forever? (3 page)

I decided to e-mail Peyton and Ashanti for advice, since my mother was absolutely no help. Peyton was still sick, but both she and Ashanti said the same thing: "Be yourself." Hmm, well, if they both thought it might work then I figured I might as well try it.

I wrote Vladi back and told him about going to my grandma's and what I got for Christmas. It surprised me how long my e-mail was when I finished writing. As I re-read it, I hoped he didn't think I was a loser with nothing better to do, even though I sort of was.

 

The next day, we headed over to my other grandparents' house for dinner. Grandpa Dombrowski opened the door and his face brightened as soon as he saw me. "How's my girl? Well, how's my supermodel writer, I should say." Grandpa always made me feel like I was his favorite person on earth.

"Bernie, let them in the house," Grandma said. "They'll catch their death standing on the porch. Get in here. Come, come."

Mom went over to her as Grandpa took my coat. "I hope you're hungry," Grandma said. "We're ready to eat."

"Do you need help with anything, Ma?" Mom asked.

"You don't know what you're doing in my kitchen," Grandma said, waving her off. "It's easier if I do it all. Go sit."

We sat in the bright yellow dining room. Grandma had ham, sausage, mashed potatoes, rolls, cucumber salad, regular salad, some weird-looking dish with beets in it, scalloped potatoes, and rye bread on the table. Now that was what I called "yummers town."

"Oh, it smells amazing," Dad said, taking some sausage.

We filled our plates, and for every spoonful I took, Grandma somehow managed to sneak an extra helping onto my plate. Everything tasted delicious. The potatoes were so creamy and had this amazing savory flavor to them. She would never tell us what any of her "secret ingredients" were, but man, nothing tasted like my grandma's mashed potatoes. I felt like I was going to explode when I was done.

"Ready for dessert?" Grandma asked.

"Can we have a breather first, Ma?" Mom asked.

"Okay, well, I'll clear the table."

Grandpa started to get up to help, but I said I'd do it. I followed Grandma into the kitchen while my parents and he talked about the weather.

"Glad to see you still have your appetite," Grandma said. "I worry about you modeling."

I shrugged. "I don't work much," I said.

She asked how school was, and I told her what she wanted to hear. "Um, Grandma? Do you still make potato pancakes?"

"I sure do. We had some the other night. I have leftovers. Do you want some?"

If I hadn't been about to burst, I probably would have said yes.

"Maybe later, but…are they hard to make?"

"For your mother, apparently," she said. "Well, you have to grate the potato, and I don't want you to scrape your hand off, but I might be able to teach you an easier way to make them. Maybe next time you visit?"

I nodded.

"Missing my cooking?"

"Yeah, and this…friend of mine loves them," I said.

"Friend? As in a
boy
?"

How did she know that? I nodded.

"Well, maybe next time we'll work on those, but you spend more time on your studies and less time on the boys, okay?" she said. Did all grandmothers have a thing about not wanting their granddaughters to date?

After dessert, we opened presents. I only had one thing to unwrap. Grandma told me she got me money and a gift card so we wouldn't have to struggle with a lot of extra stuff on the train ride home. I was excited; the gift card was for a bookstore. That gave me fifty dollars to spend on books. The present was a blue school sweater. I didn't like being reminded of school, but at least it was a pretty light shade of blue, considering that my Hillcrest school uniform colors made me look like a dead goldfish on a good day.

We watched a Christmas movie, and I talked to Grandpa about school. Dad said we had to head back, but I wanted to stay. Mom said next time we came to town, we could make it a longer visit. She had a project at work, which meant we couldn't spend as much time in Chicago this holiday. I bit my lip wondering if that "project" had anything to do with the possible move she was telling me about on the train. We couldn't move with things finally feeling settled for me — well,
more
settled anyway — at school with my friends. Plus I had modeling work in Grand Rapids, and there was Vladi, too. I finally felt like I belonged, and she wanted me to leave all that behind?

I didn't say much on the ride back to the apartment.

Mom touched my shoulder. "I know you wanted to stay, but next time. Promise."

I shrugged. "You always say, 'next time.' It seems like we're always rushing home or Dad's rushing back here."

"I know, but we have to leave tomorrow, and I want to make sure we have plenty of time to get ready."

"I hardly got to see the downtown all decorated for Christmas," I said.

"We did cut it short yesterday," Dad said.

Mom glanced at her watch. "I guess there's still time for us to hit a store if you want to see how Maxie's decorated the tree this year…"

"Yes! I heard this year it's a toy theme," I said.

We headed to Maxie's department store, but everyone in all of Illinois had the same idea. There was a group of people pushing to get closer to the big tree. I started to feel a little claustrophobic as I got elbowed in the side.

"This is germ central," Dad, always the doctor, said, wringing his hands. "Crowds are
not
sanitary."

"Okay, well, let's look around," Mom said, and I suggested we see the toy department. Big mistake. There were more people there, returning Christmas presents and using their gift money. Mom sighed.

"Can I go to the Little Rose cosmetics counter?" I asked. "Our counter at home is always sold out of stuff."

She nodded and went with Dad to listen to the piano player in the middle of the store.

In the cosmetics section, there was a huge ad with the new Little Rose model, who was also a former
Ingénue
model, sitting on the beach with gleamy, flawless skin and glossy lips. The model's name was Jem Jade Juliette, and they were calling her the "New Talisa Milan" in all the magazines. I thought that was kind of weird, because it seemed like it meant Talisa should move aside for her or something. Jem seemed cool in her TV interviews, though. I went to the Little Rose cosmetics counter and asked for the Taupe on a Rope lip gloss Talisa was wearing on the cover of
Young and Fun
magazine. The salesperson asked if it was for me, and I nodded.

"It's more of a color for someone with Winter Pansy coloring," she said. "And your coloring is Spring Daffodil. You might like Tink's Wink instead. It would be better for your fair complexion. More of a light rosy shade, whereas the taupe one is meant for someone with an olive skin tone."

I hated the way makeup people said "fair" as if it were a dirty word, so I asked how much the glosses were.

"Fourteen dollars."

If I bought them both, then I'd spend most of the money I had saved up. I bit my lip.

"I'll take them both."

"If you spend just two dollars more, you can get the free gift," she said.

I felt embarrassed as I asked for the cheapest item they sold. She said it was the nail enamel. Why didn't they just say "nail polish"? I asked how much it was, and it was twelve bucks.

"The gift is a free makeup bag with blush, eye shadow, and a brow pencil."

It was the same blush shade Talisa wore in the article about her. Sold.

I texted my mom I was going to the bathroom and went to the restroom to put the gloss on. It made me look dead. Mom came into the bathroom.

"Landry, I — " She stopped, inhaled, and put the back of her hand against my forehead. "You feel okay, babes?"

"I'm fine. I think it's the new lip gloss. It kinda sucks all of the color out of my face."

She stepped back. "Yeah, not your shade. Maybe if you used a lip liner or a lipstick underneath it."

"Maybe, but Talisa didn't need a lip liner with it. She just put a dab of it on and was the picture of perfection. Of course, she also has flawless olive skin and gorgeous dark hair."

"I felt the same way when I was a kid," Mom said. "I always wanted the opposite of what I had, too, but one day you'll appreciate your own skin and hair color. It's just a phase you're going through."

I hated when she said something was just "a phase" for me, but then again, Talisa did say in a magazine she grew up wanting to have a peaches-and-cream complexion, so maybe Mom was right that nobody appreciates what they have when they're younger.

"Doesn't Little Rose Cosmetics have a good return policy?" Mom asked. "We could go back, and you could exchange it."

I stared at my washed-out complexion in the mirror. The lip gloss almost made my mouth disappear. Why couldn't I look like Talisa or the girls at school who didn't even need lipstick or gloss? Why couldn't I look like anybody but me?

 

Mom took me back to the counter to return the lip gloss. She was going to go up with me, but she got a call and wandered off to take it. I felt stupid walking up to the counter with a return. The lady who had helped me before wasn't around, but there were three other women working the counter, and two were with other customers. I started to walk toward the third woman, who had streaky blonde hair, when she started writing something down. I stood there waiting, and then another customer came over to the counter to look at the eye shadow display. The streaky-haired woman went over to ask if the other lady needed something. I felt my face flush because I had gotten there first. Why didn't she offer to help me? It was obvious I needed something, since I was standing there waiting. I hated when adults put grownups first. Didn't I have any rights? The lady walked away from the eye shadows, and finally the saleswoman glanced in my direction.

"Do you need something?" she asked, sounding bored.

"I have a return."

"And
why
are you returning this?"

"It…um, wasn't the right color."

She took the gloss out of the bag and squinted. "This is completely the wrong shade for you. Did you pick this out, or did one of the girls help you?"

I wasn't sure what to say. If I admitted I picked it out myself, then she might say it was my fault and I'd have to keep the gloss, but I didn't want to lie.

"Um….I did."

"Someone helped you though, right?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Who? Because I need to talk to them, since this is obviously the wrong shade and they don't know what they're doing," she said.

I wasn't going to get anyone in trouble, so I said I didn't remember who helped me.

"Can I return it or exchange it?" I asked.

She glanced at my receipt. "An exchange since you got the gift. Unless you plan to return the gift."

I told her I wanted a new lip color, and she told me to go over to the lipstick display. She walked slowly over to the stand like it was tiring her out to deal with me. I watched as she kind of leaned back on her heels as she walked and sighed a lot.

She made it over to the lipstick rack, and I started to say I wanted something natural-looking when she cut me off.

"Well, not too natural, or you'll look washed out. You're so fair. You need some color to liven you up," she said. "I don't think natural is the right look for you."

I felt like asking for the dead-looking lip gloss back so I could go home and not feel worse about myself.

"Try this one on," she said, handing me a tiny disposable applicator loaded with bright pink lipstick. I couldn't wear something so obvious to school. Ms. Ashcroft would pass out and then send me to the bathroom to scrub it off.

"I don't want anything so bright or noticeable," I said.

"You
need
some color," she said. "The one you're wearing now isn't right for you at all."

It wasn't? I thought I was looking pretty good when I left the apartment. Suddenly I felt like a big puddle of nothing

"Jackie?" one of the other women said. "Can you take this call? I'll help your customer."

Jackie rolled her eyes and waddled over to the phone. The dark-haired woman who answered the phone came over to help me. Her name tag said, "Ashley."

"Okay, what are you looking for today? How may I help?"

"Well, I came in to return a Taupe on a Rope gloss that didn't look good on me. Can you help me find something in exchange?"

"Sure. What kind of look are you going for? Taupe on a Rope is super natural, is that what you were going for?"

I nodded, waiting to hear I had the kind of face that didn't look good natural. Instead, she twirled the display around, trying to look at colors.

"Are there any shades you don't like? Like peaches or browns or pinks?" she asked.

"Nothing too orange or brown, I guess. I looked dead in the taupe gloss."

"It's an impossible shade to wear. I can't think of anyone I've seen who looks good in it," Ashley said.

"Talisa Milan wears it in the new ad and on a magazine cover," I said.

"Oh, the gloss ad? Yeah, she also has on liner, lipstick, and I'm pretty sure they custom mixed the gloss for her. It's a super-sheer color in the tube, but her lips look almost bronze in the picture. So it's not just the gloss she has on."

"Seriously?"

She nodded. "The new Little Rose model, Jem, has Champagne gloss on in this ad," she said, pulling a pamphlet over. "That's all she's wearing, but her natural lips are super pigmented so it looks like a golden pink color when the gloss is just a pale gold."

"I almost asked about that color," I said. "It's so pretty."

"I think you'll find something with a little pink in it to be more flattering to your skin tone."

If she called me "so fair," I was going to walk away from the counter, not caring that I had already handed in the other gloss.

"Yeah, I know, I'm super pale," I said, squirming.

"You have beautiful skin. You're lucky. Most girls your age deal with breakouts like crazy."

"I break out a lot when I'm stressed."

"Me, too," she said. "So you want something natural — similar to what Talisa has on, but more suited for you?"

I nodded, and she pulled a couple of tubes out. The first one was a coral pink color, and it made my blue eyes pop more. Next, Ashley had me try on a pale pink.

"It's natural but not a lot of color. That would be nice for every day. Subtle enough for school."

I wasn't looking for subtle. I was looking for something that would make Kyle Eiton wonder why he hadn't asked me out yet and turn Vladi's head around so he'd never notice another girl for as long as he lived.

"If you want something closer to Talisa's, we could do a lip pencil and that champagne color gloss you liked. Or a neutral lipstick and a sheer bronze gloss."

Oh wow, what would that cost? I shrugged, and she got the tiny applicator and put a neutral pink-brown lipstick on for me.

"If we just dab it on lightly, then it looks more natural," she said. "That's what Talisa and Jem's makeup artists do."

I dabbed it on, and the color was light, but pretty. She put a dab of gloss over it, and it made the sparkles in the lipstick come alive.

"That's gorgeous. I didn't know I could look like this," I said. I felt stupid for blurting that out.

"It's pretty on you."

I stared at the two tubes on the counter.

"A bit over budget?" she asked.

I nodded.

She suggested I return the nail enamel and then just kick in the three extra dollars to pay for the lipstick. Ashley rang up the exchange and new lipstick while I waited. When she came back, she said she had thrown in a few skin care samples.

I blushed. "Yeah, I know, I'm starting to break out on my chin."

"Oh, I didn't notice. I just know how bad my breakouts were at your age, and this toner helped me."

"Thanks," I said, feeling relieved she hadn't pointed out my flaws. "You were a lot of help."

She glanced behind her in streaky-hair's direction and then back at me.

"Well, you came here for assistance, and I wanted to make sure you got good service."

"Thanks, I'll make sure to fill out the customer survey."

Ashley thanked me, and I walked back over to where my mom was finishing up her call.

"Did it go all right?" she asked.

"I guess. The first lady was kind of rude."

"I hate buying department store makeup," Mom said. "They always make you feel bad about yourself so you'll buy more of their products."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, why else do you think they critique you so much when you're just trying to buy gloss? You walk up feeling okay about yourself and slink away feeling like a hideous troll who can only be saved by eighty dollars or more of products," she said, laughing as Dad walked over to us.

So maybe I wasn't as "blah" as the streaky-haired woman made me feel. At least the second lady was helpful.

"More makeup? I guess it's all that modeling influence, huh? Say, kiddo, you should have told Lucy more about your
Ingénue
appearances when you were at Grandma's," Dad said.

"She didn't seem interested," I said.

"That's surprising. Her mom had been asking me all about it. I guess Lucy went to some auditions after your thing, but they said she was too short to model unless she did something called 'petite modeling.' That's strange she didn't ask you more about it."

"Well, maybe she was a little jealous Landry made it on the
Ingénue
show," Mom said.

I just thought Lucy didn't want to be bothered by me.

My dad shook his head. "Oh, I'm sure she was nothing but proud of you, sweetie."

Even my mom smirked. "Yeah, because girls
never
get jealous of each other and ignore each other."

"What did you say, hon?" my dad asked, leaning closer.

"Nothing. Just discussing how women are so supportive of one another when it comes to competition," she said.

"This is one of those times when you're being sarcastic, isn't it?" he said, raising one eyebrow.

"Landry, learn from this," my mother said. "Don't ever be that girl who can't be happy for someone else's achievement. The world is too harsh a place for women not to support one another."

Another lecture. Fun.

"I mean it," she said. "Remember how you felt when she was ignoring you and I want you to vow not to do that to the next girl you come across. There is room for everyone. Life isn't a competition."

I shrugged and I got what she was saying, but I also got how even she had noticed my cousin ignoring me all afternoon. Maybe Lucy was jealous, or maybe she was just a jerk. Either way, my mom was right, and I would never do that to someone else.

"Lucy has always been a brat. I remember when she made fun of Landry one Christmas, because Landry and her Cadia doll had matching dresses on," Mom said. "You were so precious, and you loved that doll, but after Lucy laughed, you didn't want to play with Cadia anymore."

"She made fun of your
doll
?" Dad asked.

I nodded. Sure, I had told my parents after that I was "over dolls," but I wasn't. Instead, I just felt dumb for looking like such a little kid in front of Lucy.

"I can't imagine Lucy doing that. She was probably laughing because you were so cute with your little dolly," Dad said. "I'm sure it was a misunderstanding."

I shifted. "I was sorta over dolls at that point."

Mom shook her head. "You were so excited to get the Cadia bedroom set that morning from Santa, and what you didn't know was Dad and I planned to get you the birthday party set for your next good report card that year."

"What? I missed out on the
party
set? I
hate
that Lucy. She's evil," I said, clenching my fists.

"See?" Mom said, turning to my father. "Your brat niece made your daughter grow up too fast. So next time Landry's out on a date with Vladi, remember who caused it."

"Well, I am so going to let it slip to Grandma that Lucy has a tattoo on her — wait, what do you mean 'next time she's on a date'?" he asked. "
Next
time?"

"Or whenever…if it happens, you know," she said. Mom peered into my shopping bag at my free gift. "If you're not going to use this brow pencil, I'll give it a good home," she said.

"Mo-om, I need it."

"Fine, fine, fine," she said. "Wow, this new ad is big."

"They're calling Jem the 'New Talisa,'" I said.

"See? There's that stupid competition thing again," Mom said.

Even Dad nodded. "They do it with guys, too — athletes especially. ‘This one is the next whomever' — it's dumb. Just do your best and be yourself."

Oh, man, Dad was getting in on the lectures? Maybe that was how my parents met. They were both sitting in the self-esteem section of the bookstore, and my klutzy mom tripped over my dad. Then he bought her a hot chocolate or something and they read positive affirmations to each other over cocoa.

Dad suggested we grab a famous Maxie's caramel apple before we headed home. I felt sad as we drove away from the city and to the apartment. Sure, I knew I was coming back at some point, but I missed being there — even if none of my old friends from Chicago had bothered to write back to my texts and e-mails. If my old friends could forget about me so fast, what would happen if Mom took the transfer? Would any of my Grand Rapids friends bother to stay in touch with me?