I So Don't Do Makeup Read online

  We trudge to the end of the driveway with Sam pulling the wagon. One of the wheels is squeaking. I think it’s saying, “Go home. Eat dinner.” My stomach grumbles.

  “Left or right?” I ask.

  “What do you think, Sherry?” he says. “Which way will I get the most sales?”

  I seriously don’t think he’s going to sell much regardless of the direction. Especially not those ugly beets that look bruised and purple, like they’ve been in a knock-down, drag-out garden fight. “Go right. It’s less hilly.”

  “Good idea, Sherry.”

  Well, I am the big sister. “Sam, I noticed you don’t have a calculator. You can borrow my phone. It has one under Tools.”

  “Thanks, Sherry.” He yanks on the wagon handle to get it started. “I can just add in my head.”

  I know he’s supposed to be some kind of math whiz, but I think he’s pushing it, especially ’cause we’re talking about money. A small mistake with a decimal point could spell financial ruin.

  When we get to the driveway of our closest neighbor, I say, “No point trying Mrs. Moore. She’s such a grump. Plus she’s got that No Solicitors sign on her front door.”

  Sam keeps tramping up her drive. “She’s also got a sign that says Guard Dog/Beware of Dog and we know that’s a lie.”

  At the front steps, he passes me the handle to hold and walks to the door. He presses the bell.

  A thin face with a hook nose peers out the window. Then I hear the dead bolt moving and the front door cracks open. “Yes?”

  “Hi, Mrs. Moore. It’s Sam from next door.” He points to the wagon. “I’ve been growing organic plants in our garden and now I’m going door to door, selling them.” He lists his wares.

  She squints down the steps to the wagon. “Which sports team are you on?”

  “Oh, uh, no sports team,” Sam says. “I’m just saving up to buy some stuff, special stuff.”

  “No sports team?” She shakes her head vigorously but her tight steel gray curls barely budge. They’re hair-sprayed into submission. “Good for you, Sam. I don’t believe in sports teams. Makes kids too competitive. Turns them into bullies.”

  She totters down the steps, her heels slipping out of the backs of her fuzzy slippers. “What’re you saving up for?” she asks, weighing a tomato in each of her palms.

  “It’s a secret.” Sam smiles and unfolds a bag for her.

  “A secretive boy who doesn’t play sports.” She places a bunch of carrots in a bag, then sets the tomatoes in carefully. “I like it.” She even buys a couple of beets.

  We set off down the road, both of us tugging on the handle. A brother, a sister, a squeaky wagon and a bunch of produce. Sam’s whistling in his normal too-high-pitched, tuneless way. Usually it bugs me to death, but this evening I’m glad for the familiar sound. We’re in that comfortable sibling place where we don’t feel like talking but we’re getting along fine.

  Somewhere between Mr. Scott’s and the Dixon family’s house, I smell coffee. Mom! She doesn’t say anything, just whooshes along next to us. Sam seems unaware, as usual, of my mother’s presence. I’m the only one who can talk with her, occasionally feel her, smell her, but I never see her. A brother, a sister and a mother out for a walk at dusk. It’s weird, but it’s a way the three of us can hang together.

  Finally, when Sam’s up doing his sales pitch to the Dixons and can’t hear us, she sighs. “This is the kind of stuff I miss, Sherry. Just being with you guys.”

  “Me too.”

  “You two seem to be doing okay, though.” She sighs again. “Paula’s really looking after you. And I’m so grateful for that. She’s doing things for you that I can’t.” Mom moves right beside me. The coffee scent is strong, like I’m in the coffee aisle at the grocery store.

  “She is taking care of us, Mom, but it’s not like she’s replacing you. Don’t ever think that.” My bangs lift ever so slightly and I feel a light touch across my forehead. I close my eyes and just feel.

  “Sherry! Sherry!” Sam’s hopping down the Dixons’ steps. “They want six tomatoes!”

  After he takes care of the transaction and the three of us are a ways down the road, I see my brother suck in a small breath and cock his head slightly to the side. He smiles. He doesn’t know it’s Mom, but he must sense enough to know it’s love.

  She stays with us until everything from the wagon is sold. Even the beets.

  Sam and I plod back home. Dinner is super yummy. Plus, all that exercise right before the meal really got my appetite going. After my last bite, I undo the snap on my jeans. The Ruler heads down the hall to do some grading in our little office.

  My dad and Sam launch into one of their fave activities. This is exchanging dumber-than-dumb knockknock jokes.

  “Knock, knock,” Sam says.

  “Who’s there?” Dad says.

  “Interrupting cow.”

  “Interrupting c—”

  “Mooo!” Sam’s grabbing his stomach, doubled over with laughter.

  Sadly, so is my dad.

  I roll my eyes. “I’m going to hit the books.”

  “Don’t hurt your—”

  I plug my ears. “Please, Dad, don’t embarrass yourself.”

  I leave the room to the sound of my brother and my father busting up like maniacs.

  I’m sprawled all over my bed, finishing my math homework. I add a negative sign to my answer, slam the textbook shut, lean back on my pillow, grab my phone and speed-dial Josh.

  “Hi, Sherry!”

  Basically, my insides go all oatmealy when I hear his voice. It doesn’t matter that I saw him earlier today. I could’ve seen him five seconds ago, and still his voice would do that to me. Love is one strange state.

  “What’d you do after school?” I ask.

  “Swim team, then I helped my dad with some landscaping junk,” Josh says. “How about you?”

  I fill him in on the lotion + bristles. And how I’ve booted Eve out of the suspect pool. “We still have Wacko Will. Then there’s the Janes at school. You know, that bizarro group of girls who won’t wear makeup and don’t want anyone else to either.”

  “Nah, I don’t really know anything about them,” Josh says.

  “Your cousin Kim’s one of them.”

  “Yeah, well, Kim’s always been kind of weird. But harmless. Like, last year, she didn’t want any Christmas presents. She wanted us to donate money to a cause. We bought a tree in her name in the rain forest.”

  “That is weird.” Although it sounds like a gift The Ruler would go for. I tuck the thought away. “Kim probably is completely harmless, but that doesn’t mean all the Janes are.”

  “You think the Janes might be trying to convince lots of people to boycott makeup by ruining Naked Makeup’s reputation?”

  “Yeah, maybe. I mean, Naked Makeup’s getting pretty popular and it’s already super super popular with teens.”

  “Any other suspects?” Josh asks.

  “A guy we haven’t checked out yet.” I tell him about Drew and his crazy crush on Lacey. “I’m going over to Discount Mart tomorrow after school to see what vibes I get from him in person.”

  “Hey, I’ll go with you.”

  “You are so on.”

  Because what could be better than investigating with your boyfriend?

  chapter

  twenty-one

  I t’s Tuesday after school, and I’m in The Ruler’s car, tagging along with her and Sam to Grandma Baldwin’s. Not because I want to help with the horrendous bird chore. Not because I want to listen to Grandma’s new age craziness. Not because I want to watch her favor Sam over me.

  No, no, no. There’s only one reason why I’m headed to Grandma Baldwin’s. I need to make contact with Grandpa.

  By nature, The Ruler’s a snail-like driver. She hunches over the steering wheel, the only time she ever slouches, crawling away from stop signs. We’ll be lucky to make it to Grandma’s before Thanksgiving.

  “It’s so great you’r
e coming with me.” Sam looks up from his video game and beams. “There’s a ton of bird work.”

  I groan inwardly. Because of the flock of cactus wrens flying overhead when Grandpa died, Grandma now sees herself as grand pooh-bah protector of all birds on earth. She doesn’t realize that Grandpa chills in her backyard, eating her out of pounds of sunflower seeds, waiting for the day she clues in to his identity.

  The Ruler relaxes and straightens up as we exit Phoenix and motor along less crowded streets. The traffic thins down to nothing as we approach the nowheresville my grandmother calls home.

  Finally, The Ruler turns off a bumpy potholed road and onto the bumpy potholed driveway. She jerks to a stop by Grandma’s porch. Sam and I clamber out.

  Grandma is through her creaky screen door and down her wooden front steps before you can say, “Welcome to the country.” She grabs Sam and me up in a tight herbalish hug, then clomps to The Ruler’s open window. “I just made some iced mango tea. Can you come in and visit?”

  “Maybe later.” The Ruler keeps glancing in the rearview mirror, trying to gauge a backing-up strategy. Reverse isn’t her strong suit. “I have some shopping to do at the co-op.”

  Grandma grabs our hands, and Sam and I climb up ths steps. We walk beneath the ceramic sun centered above the front door, entering the house of new age bizarreness.

  Over my shoulder, I see The Ruler inching down the drive.

  In the kitchen, Grandma passes me a long-handled wooden spoon and parks me in front of the stove and a humongous pot. “Sherry, you’re in charge of sugar water for the hummingbird feeders. All you have to do is stir.”

  “Am I making food for the entire Western Hemisphere?”

  Sam giggles.

  Grandma frowns. “Sam, let’s get some bags of seed from the shed.”

  I prop the spoon in the pot. “I’ll help with that.” I gotta find Grandpa.

  “The birds aren’t used to you the way they are to Sam,” Grandma says. “It’d be less distracting if you stayed inside while we’re filling the feeders.”

  Ack. Eek. Ike. I can’t be stuck in the kitchen. I absolutely have to talk to Grandpa about helping me with the mystery.

  “Grandma, they’re wild birds, not pets. It doesn’t matter if they’re not used to me.”

  “That shows how little you understand,” she says like I’m in kindergarten. “Tell her about the wren, Sam. The wren that follows me everywhere, that eats sunflower seeds from my hands, that rides on my shoulder.”

  It’s Grandpa! I want to shout.

  “Seriously, Sherry,” Sam says, “it’s almost like he’s talking to Grandma.”

  He is talking to Grandma!

  Grandma clutches the tiny crystal that hangs from a chain around her wrist. “One day, I swear he said my name. Mary Ann. It was very clear.” She pauses. “Well, it wasn’t that clear. It was the way a bird beak would say my name.”

  “Like this?” I imitate Grandpa’s croaky, garbled voice. “Maaary Aaaannn.”

  Her wrinkly jaw drops. “That’s exactly what he sounded like.”

  “Maaary Aaaannn,” I rasp out again.

  “Have you met him?” Only my grandmother can ask a question like that and think it’s somehow normal.

  “I’ve seen him around.” Actually, I could list a bunch of places where I’ve hung out with Grandpa, but one look at Sam, who’s contemplating me like a science textbook, and I stop. I can’t risk breaking the Academy rule of secrecy. Especially right now, when I’m supposed to be on my best behavior. And, with Sam, you never know what he’ll put together. Sometimes, I think he’s Einstein genius. Other times, he’s just my nerdy, annoying little brother.

  Grandma unhooks her bracelet. “You take this, Sherry.” She drops it in my palm. “It’s citrine, a type of quartz that’s helpful for skin disorders in animals.”

  I paste a puzzled look on my face, but I know exactly what she’s referring to. Grandpa’s little head is all balding and his feather coverage is patchy, especially over his protruding tummy. Grandma thinks the stone will help his condition.

  “I haven’t been able to get him to wear this.” Her gnarled hands on my shoulders, she gives me a little squeeze. “Why don’t you try?”

  My eyebrows jump up. “Grandma, you seriously think he’ll wear this?”

  “Even if it just stays around his neck for a few minutes to start.” Her eyes are pleading.

  Why am I arguing? I want a chance to track down Grandpa. Plus, this’ll put me in Grandma’s good graces.

  “Okeydokey.” I tap out a little victory tune on the counter with the spoon. “I’m your girl, then.”

  Sam pushes open the porch door.

  Grandma’s backyard is, uh, different. It’s dotted all over with birdhouses, birdbaths and saguaro cacti. Hummingbird feeders hang from palm trees, as do two-liter plastic soda bottles that have been converted into feeders, and giant pinecones rolled first in peanut butter, then bird seed. Of course, with all this paraphernalia to attract birds, there’s a fair amount of bird poop around. In short, it’s the backyard of a woman obsessed with birds.

  We stand in the middle of all this birdness, blinking in the bright southwestern sun.

  “He loves sunflower seeds,” Grandma says. “I usually fill the feeder next to the giant saguaro with nothing but sunflower seeds for him.”

  We wander in that direction. I spot Grandpa first. He’s perched on an arm of a cactus, his head tucked under his ratty wing. He’s got a little snore going. I open my mouth to call out, “Grandpa,” then snap it shut.

  “There he is,” Sam shouts.

  Grandpa wakes up with a snort.

  “Yoo-hoo, John Wayne!” Grandma crooks a finger.

  “John Wayne?” I say. “The old actor in bad westerns?”

  “I’ve always had a thing for cowboys.” She puts a hand over her heart.

  Grandpa flaps up to a higher arm of the cactus.

  Grandma’s face falls.

  “Hey, birdie, birdie,” I say, “this stone will help you grow a bunch of feathers.”

  “Sherry,” Grandpa says. “No rock.”

  He crosses his wings.

  “Is he talking to you?” Sam asks.

  I shoot him a withering big-sister look. “Get real.”

  Grandma stands right next to me. “John Wayne, this is my granddaughter, Sherry. She’s usually a pretty good girl. Come meet her.

  “Sam, run to the shed and get the large bag of sunflower seeds,” Grandma instructs. “We’ll sprinkle a ring of them around your sister. That’ll get John Wayne down.”

  The sec Sam takes off, I say, “Grandma, maybe if I had a moment alone with, uh, John Wayne? Then it wouldn’t look like we’re all ganging up on him.”

  “Brilliant, Sherry. I’ll work on the sugar water in the kitchen.” Grandma disappears down a row of birdhouses. For an old lady, she can scamper when she wants to.

  Grandpa is really tough for me to understand, although my mom doesn’t have any trouble. “Übermuffled” is the word that leaps to mind. I gotta keep this convo simple.

  “Grandpa, come here,” I say in a loud whisper. “We need to talk.”

  “No.”

  “It’s not about the rock.” I hang the bracelet on a low cactus arm. It dangles and spins and gleams. “Although, couldn’t you just, like, rub your head on it or something? It would make Grandma super happy.”

  “Fine.”

  “Thank you,” I say. “Really I’m here because I need help.”

  In a flash, he’s on my head.

  “There’s a mystery at the Phoenix Mall. Mom can’t help. ’Cause of all that hush-hush foreign Academy stuff.”

  “What?” he squawks.

  Oops. “Not important, not important.”

  Sam arrives with a wheelbarrow. Inside slumps the hugest plastic bag of sunflower seeds ever.

  “Yum,” Grandpa croaks.

  “He’s on your head!” Sam drops the handles, and the barrow clunks down.
/>   “Where I don’t want him to stay.” I point to the seed. “Pour some of that on the ground.”

  With his teeth, Sam bites a hole in the end of the bag hanging over the barrow, then wheels a circle around me, leaving a trail of seeds.

  “Sherry, how’s it going?” Grandma calls out.

  “Give me a few more minutes,” I shout. “Take the rest of that seed back to the shed,” I tell Sam.

  Grandpa’s munching up a storm, eating his way around the circle.

  “Mrs. Howard won’t assign Mom to the mystery.” I hunker down close so I can talk quietly. “She doesn’t even want me to work on it.”

  Seed spilling out of his beak, Grandpa peers up at me. “Bossy lady.”

  “So will you help me investigate someone?”

  “Yes.”

  “He is talking to you!” Sam steps out from where he was crouching under a birdbath.

  chapter

  twenty-two

  Feet shoulder-width apart and arms crossed, Sam stares at me. “You were definitely asking that bird questions. And it was definitely answering.”

  Now that the seeds are gone, Grandpa flaps off.

  “Did Grandma see?” I ask, making my voice all hopeful. I can’t let Sam figure out the bird’s true identity. I can’t be responsible for revealing another Academy secret. I have to convince him the whole talking-with-a-bird routine was an act to impress Grandma.

  “What?”

  “I really wanted Grandma to see.”

  Sam’s arms drop to his sides.

  “I don’t think she did. I think she was in the kitchen the whole time,” I say. “Could you tell her?”

  “I guess. Sure. Why?” He’s überconfused.

  “I want her to believe I was connecting with her special bird.”

  “What?”

  “Of course I was asking the bird questions, but there’s no way the bird was answering. Sam, don’t be a moron. It’s a bird. It was doing what birds do, pecking and squawking and bobbing its head.”