I So Don't Do Makeup

  You so don’t want to miss Barrie Summy’s other books!

  i so don’t do mysteries

  i so don’t do spooky

  For the fam, in ascending order,

  Claire, Drew, Stephen, Stan and, of

  course, Mark, who were all very

  generous about sharing their home

  and toys with Sherry et al

  acknowledgments

  In writerly areas … thank you to my gifted editor, Wendy Loggia, who makes even revisions fun; my hardworking agent, Rachel Vater, who is always there for me, despite the three-hour time difference; my talented critique partners, Kelly Hayes and Kathy Krevat, who didn’t know what they were getting into when we formed Denny’s Chicks; and my wonderful and wacky online author group, the late Florence Moyer, Misty Simon, Alli Sinclair, Danita Cahill, Kathy Holmes and Maureen McGowan. Thank you also to Eileen Bagg-Rizzo for special powers in the areas of listening, decision making and careful driving.

  And a huge shout-out to the team at Delacorte Press Random House Children’s Books for working extra überhard at getting this book in great shape and out into the world in record time: Beverly Horowitz, my publisher; Marci Senders, most creative designer; Heather Lockwood Hughes, ultra-observant copy editor; and Krista Vitola, super organizer.

  In other areas, I’d like to thank the following experts: Detective Sergeant Joseph Bulkowski (for police stuff), Reissah Leigh (who knows everything about cosmetics and then some), Dieter Steinmetz (for help with the mysteries of chemistry), Kaveh Shakeri (also for help with chemistry) and Bernard Marcos (pour l’aide avec le français ainsi que les bons temps à Sherbrooke). Any errors are all mine.

  chapter

  one

  I slip into the bathroom next to my bedroom and stand quietly on the cool tile floor. Looking around, I breathe out a sigh of happiness.

  Lined up on the counter are bottles and jars and tubes and adorable little pots. Of powders and liquids and gels and sprays. Next to brushes and wands and cotton balls and small sponge wedges. All brand-new. All unopened. All beautiful.

  I, Sherry (short for Sherlock) Holmes Baldwin, am hosting the makeup slumber party of the century.

  The doorbell rings.

  Taking two at a time, I bound down the stairs and yank open the front door.

  Brianna, my overly chatty, overly boy-crazy, overly dramatic friend, squeals. She springs into our foyer, drops her pink sleeping bag, her flowered pillow and her paisley backpack and hugs me. “You throw the best sleepovers!”

  After Brianna releases me, I take a step back. I tip my head to the side, make a rectangular shape with my hands, and regard her face through my fingers. I so cannot wait to break out the blusher.

  “What’re you doing?” Brianna asks.

  “I got this magazine that’s full of cool makeup tips,” I say, “like how to glamorize your eyes and groom your brows and determine your face shape.”

  “Face shape?” she says. “What’s mine?”

  “I haven’t actually read the whole article yet, but whatever you are, it’ll be good. We can deal with every shape.”

  “Sherry, this is going to rock.”

  We’re halfway up the stairs when the doorbell chimes again. I jog back down while Brianna heads to my room to stash her gear.

  I fling open the door. “Hi, Kim!”

  Kim stands on the stoop, her elbows straight and stiff, a blue pillow under one arm, a blue sleeping bag under the other. Her fingers curl around the handle of an overnight bag on wheels, which stands upright and well behaved beside her. “Hi, Sherry.”

  I’m not really sure why Kim agreed to come this evening. She doesn’t wear makeup at all. As in not at all.

  Kim belongs to the Janes, a bizarro group of girls at school who refuse to use cosmetics. Personally, I don’t get it. There are loads of other things in life I’d give up first. Like carrots. Or homework. Even chocolate.

  I invited Kim because we’re doing a French project together and because she’s Josh’s cousin. When you’re dating Josh Morton, the coolest, cutest eighth grader in Phoenix, Arizona, you sort of get sucked into his family.

  But honestly? I thought Kim would say no.

  There’s a short knock at the door and then it swings slowly open. My BFF, Junie Carter, slides her solid black backpack, her glow-in-the-dark-constellations sleeping bag and her plain white pillow across the entrance tiles and into a corner. She hands me a plastic grocery bag of lumpiness. “From my mom.”

  I peek inside. Snacks! “Yay, Junie.” I pull out a tub of sour gummy worms.

  She smiles, then glances around and continues in a low voice, “My mom was worried The Ruler wouldn’t have enough junk food to last us the night.”

  Totally legit worry. The Ruler, my stepmother, is a bona fide health-food granola bar. She’s nicknamed The Ruler for two reasons. Her posture is insanely straight, like she’s a human ruler. And she teaches math at my middle school, where she’s definitely the strictest teacher. Don’t even think about handing in your homework late.

  My real mother would’ve been good for endless junk food. She was an awesome cop with the Phoenix Police Department who died about two years ago during a drug bust gone bad. Now she’s a ghost detective with the Academy of Spirits, an organization dedicated to watching over humans and keeping us safe. The cool thing is that, although I can’t see her, I can talk to her. We even solve mysteries together for the Academy.

  Weirdly, my grandfather is also an Academy member, but in a mascotty way. After his humongous heart attack, Grandpa chose to become a cactus wren, our state bird. He spends a load of time hanging out at Grandma’s, in the hopes she’ll recognize him.

  I pop open the candy container and offer it to Kim.

  “Sour gummies are my weakness,” she says, scooping up a handful.

  Phew. I wasn’t really sure if the Janes enforced sugar rules too.

  “You’ll be happy, then,” Junie says. “There’s enough in the bag for the entire seventh grade.”

  The Ruler walks down the hall from the kitchen.

  “Hi, Ms. Paulson,” Junie and Kim say, automatically straightening their shoulders.

  The Ruler married my dad a few months ago but didn’t change her name at school. “I already ordered the pizza,” she says to me.

  Junie’s eyes go big behind her glasses. I know exactly what she’s thinking. The Ruler? Pizza? Will it be whole wheat with soy cheese?

  With my thumb and index finger, I give my stepmother an okay sign.

  As we’re tramping upstairs, Junie pokes me in the back. “Pizza?”

  “Olives, anchovies and fat-free organic goat cheese,” I say with a straight face.

  “Ewww!” Junie and Kim say together.

  “Kidding.” I grin. “It’s pepperoni from Angelo’s. She really wants us to have a good time,” I say. “She even sent Sam to Grandma Baldwin’s.” I look over my shoulder at Kim. “You’re allowed pizza, right?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Duh.”

  “Kim, I gotta show you my bedroom,” I say, walking through the open door. “I mixed two different paints to get the wall color. Turquoise and sea green. And I hot-glue-gunned all those fake gemstones around the door and across the windowsill.”

  “Very cool.” Kim gazes around. “What kind of fish are those?”

  “Bala sharks.” Anyone who notices my fish can’t be too difficult. Maybe she’s going to fit in after all. Maybe my makeover slumber party will be what convinces Kim to quit the Janes and join the world of normal girls at Saguaro Middle School.

  Brianna’s in the bathroom, ogling the cosmetics array. Bright red spots of excitement dot her cheeks. I’ll go easy on the blush for her. “Sherry, where’d all this come from?�
�

  Kim peeks in the bathroom and gulps. The way I gulp right before a big test.

  I hand her the tub of gummy worms. “Mostly from Naked Makeup.”

  “Did Amber help you?” Junie asks.

  “Yeah.” Amber, Junie’s gorgeous but often obnoxious cousin is in high school and knows everything about makeup and boys and life. About a month ago, Amber started working part-time at Naked Makeup, this new kiosk in the mall. Naked Makeup’s products are natural and healthy and not tested on animals. The best part is you get to choose from a variety of scents and glitters and they customize the cosmetics for you.

  Junie recently tiptoed into the world of makeup. And guys. Before that, she concentrated on school and getting all As. She’s an only child with two high-IQ engineer parents.

  I unscrew the lid from a pot of lip gloss. “The Ruler agreed to help pay for the makeup if we went with botanical products. And Amber offered me her employee discount if I bought more than five items.”

  “Wow,” Brianna says. “Wow. Wow.”

  Kim’s jaw is chomping up and down on the gummies.

  Junie’s picking up bottles and reading the ingredients.

  “I will so get a boyfriend with all this makeup on,” Brianna says.

  “I love how you can choose your own flavor.” I hold out the lip gloss. “Smell this, guys. It’s cookie dough.”

  Brianna grabs the pot.

  Kim shoves another gummy worm in her mouth.

  Junie sticks in her slightly-too-long-but-which-I-will-fix-with-shading nose. “It really does.”

  Brianna takes a humongously noisy whiff. She pokes in her index finger and slathers a bunch on her lips. Outside the lines.

  The Ruler calls from the bottom of the stairs, “Girls, pizza’s here!”

  We power to the kitchen, where we grab barstools. The Ruler has plates and cups and a jug of something juice-ish set out for us.

  So we’re all comfy and sitting there and friendly. Just chatting about classes and homework and movies. Kim’s starting to warm up.

  Brianna drops her slice of pizza on her plate and stares at Kim. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you for forever.” She leans on her elbows. “Why do you guys call yourselves the Janes? There’s not even a Jane in your group.”

  Trust Brianna to ask the hard-hitting questions. That girl will say absolutely anything. Also, she is not known for her secret-keeping skills. Do not tell her if you’re crushing on a guy and you don’t want him to know. I speak from experience.

  Kim gives a weak smile. “Well, you know, like, plain Jane. Simple and real.”

  “Which also means drab and uninteresting.” Junie is a human thesaurus.

  Kim crosses her arms. “Studies have shown that girls who don’t wear makeup in middle school get higher grades in math and science. And girls who get higher grades in math and science graduate from good colleges and land professional jobs.” She’s a walking, talking brochure.

  “Why can’t you have it all?” I reach for a second slice of pizza.

  “What do you mean?” Kim asks.

  “I mean why can’t you look great and get good grades?” I stare at Kim right in her unadorned eyes. “You could be the first Jane to break out of the mold. You could wear makeup and look gorgeous and have a boyfriend and get great grades and become whatever professional it is you want to be.”

  “Seriously, be a Glam Pam,” Brianna says. “Glam Pam. I like that. I made up that rhyme this very second.”

  Kim frowns.

  I can’t help but notice her eyebrows are begging for a date with a pair of tweezers.

  “Or maybe a Break-the-Chains Jane,” Junie says.

  Kim nods a fraction of a nod.

  “Actually, what are you doing here?” Brianna asks.

  “My aunt talked me into it.” Kim shakes her head like maybe it wasn’t the best suggestion. “She said I’m still pretty new to Saguaro and I need to keep meeting people.”

  Kim’s aunt Vicki—aka Josh’s mom—is a hairdresser with the best highlights, high heels and fake nails. She’s super gabby and super smart about girl stuff. I’m guessing Vicki knows all about the Janes and is counting on me to turn Kim around.

  We finish eating without any more awkward questions from Brianna. Then it’s back upstairs for Naked Makeup time! Junie, Brianna and I bounce up the stairs. Kim lags.

  “I’m first,” Brianna announces, pulling the chair from my bedroom into the bathroom.

  I drape a bath towel across Brianna, pull her hair back in a ponytail and sponge her face with a warm wet washcloth. Then, exactly like a surgeon performing delicate surgery, I start calling out for stuff.

  “Cleanser,” I announce.

  Junie places it in my waiting palm.

  “Astringent. Toner. Towel. Bronzer.”

  During all this, Kim’s hanging by the bathroom door, nervous and twitchy, ready to make a break for it if we get too close with a makeup brush.

  “Before we start slapping on makeup, we gotta figure out our face shapes.” I open my magazine and smooth it flat on the counter. Then I uncurl a measuring tape. “Who wants to go first?”

  “Me, me, me.” Brianna waves her arm in the air.

  Such an enthusiastic subject! I measure across her jawline, across her cheekbones, across the widest part of her forehead and from her hairline down to her chin.

  “This is so exciting, Sherry.” Brianna talks without moving her lips, like a ventriloquist.

  I jot down the numbers on a Post-it note, then stick it to the page with all the face shape info.

  Brianna leans over, her hair brushing the page, muttering her numbers under her breath. “Same width at forehead and cheekbones. Narrow chin.” Her finger pauses on one of the shapes and taps. “Oblong?” she wails. “I’m oblong? It says oblong is the worst shape!”

  “I bet lots of movie stars have oblong faces,” Junie says.

  “How would you know?” Brianna pushes up on her chin. “You only watch the Science Channel.”

  “Bri, it’s like I told you before,” I say. “All face shapes can be beautiful. We’ll work with you, especially in the shading department. And you could think about getting a haircut.” I look closer at the article. “It says to avoid long straight hair, like yours, with an oblong face.”

  “Oblong,” Brianna repeats. “This explains so much of what’s gone wrong in my life.”

  Junie’s reading the magazine page, the tip of her tongue poking out between her front teeth. A sure sign of concentration for her. “So, I’m round. And I should grow my hair down past my chin and get rid of the frizziness, especially by my ears.”

  “Sounds right to me.” I give her a thumbs-up.

  “And you’re a heart.” Junie draws the shape in the air.

  “Great,” I say sarcastically. “I’ve always wanted a pointy chin.”

  Of course, Kim has the perfect face. Oval.

  I drag my desk chair into the bathroom. “Have a seat, Junie.” I flap a towel, then drape it over her. I unscrew a bottle and drip some of its contents on a cotton pad. “Freckle Fade.”

  Junie plunks herself down in the chair faster than you can say Pippi Longstocking. She’s always been unhappy with her freckles. And her red hair.

  I start dabbing. “Amber said the solution in Freckle Fade isn’t bleach. So, while somewhat drying, it won’t totally suck the moisture from your skin and leave you looking like a raisin.”

  “Sounds good,” Junie says through parted lips.

  “What about your eyebrows?” Brianna asks.

  It’s a delicate subject because Junie’s eyebrows are unruly and forestlike.

  Junie’s hands pop up from under the towel and she smacks them over her brows. “Don’t touch them. I’m not up for that much pain.”

  I can see her point.

  While Junie’s fading, I start on Brianna, using as many products as possible. I’m especially generous with the blemish concealer. With a large flat brush, I paint
blush strokes on an upward angle over Brianna’s cheekbones to minimize her facial length. Junie dusts her with bronzer.

  The result: amazing.

  Even Kim, who’s sitting on my bed, notices a difference.

  With lots of instruction from me, Brianna does my face. Junie watches closely.

  Eventually the three of us are made up and beautiful.

  I call Kim into the bathroom. “Look in the mirror, Kim,” I say. “You’ve got the most perfect cheekbones.”

  “And you’re an oval,” Brianna says admiringly.

  “How about a light dusting of blush?” I wave the brush in the air. “I’m talking überlight.”

  “Okay,” she says.

  I think Kim’s more interested in makeup than she’s admitting.

  The next part of the slumber party is all about sprawling in the family room, munching on junk food and watching movies.

  Late, late at night, exhausted and bleary-eyed, we roll out our sleeping bags, then trudge into the bathroom to brush our teeth.

  “One more thing, guys.” I yawn. “Night cream.”

  “Enough with the makeup.” Brianna yawns back at me and the fluorescent light bounces off her braces. That girl can be very cranky when tired.

  “Amber promised if we leave the Nite Sprite Creme on overnight, we won’t even recognize our own skin. 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.”

  “We’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 squint out 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?”