My Life in Pink & Green

by Lisa Greenwald

  “Thanks,” she says.

  I ask them who they’re going to prom with. Brooke and Taylor both have boyfriends from other schools, and Petra’s going with a friend from Old Mill High School.

  “Oh, I’m going with this kid,” Courtney laughs when I ask her. “I mean, he’s kind of my boyfriend. But I don’t think we’ll stay together when I’m at school next year. He wants to, but I don’t.” Courtney laughs again and shakes her head. “Lucy D., you’re, like, twelve and I’m telling you all of this. How weird is that?”

  I smile.

  “She’s twelve going on eighteen,” Taylor says. “Lucy is so easy to talk to.”

  That’s the best thing anyone could say to me. “Thanks! Courtney, open your mouth a little bit so I can test this lipstick on you.”

  “Make sure it’s really light, okay?” she says. “I hate bright lipstick.”

  “I do too. But this is light. You’ll barely be able to see it.”

  After I’m done with Courtney’s makeup, she thanks me a million times. She stays to hang out while I do the three other girls’ makeup, and when they all leave, they tell me they’ll definitely be back to get their makeup done for graduation.

  I feel like those girls are my real customers, like the customers Grandma has. I don’t just do their makeup; I really know about their lives. I didn’t realize this until now, but it is what I’ve been hoping for all along.

  Beauty tip: Put a little lemon juice in your hair at the

  beginning of spring, and you’ll have natural

  highlights by the end of summer.

  and I’m sitting on the windowsill inside the front of the pharmacy, eating a cinnamon-raisin bagel with cream cheese.

  “Lucy, I know you’re eating breakfast, but there’s a huge stack of mail here that really needs opening,” Mom says from the office. “So when you’re done, can you come open it?”

  “Yeah,” I grumble. It’s annoying—the mail was only my job when I didn’t really have any other jobs. Now that I do makeup and keep the Relaxation Room clean and everything, why do I still have to open the mail? I really can’t wait until Claudia comes home for the summer so she can help out around here too.

  So I force myself to eat my bagel as slowly as possible. I scoop some extra cream cheese off with my finger and eat it, even though I know that’s kind of disgusting. I count how many times I can chew a bite before it disappears. I’m purposely stalling, but I don’t care. I hate opening the mail.

  Now that all this stuff is happening with the spa, how can I possibly just go back to my old jobs around here? That just doesn’t seem fair.

  Plus, I have to prepare. Eli Mayner’s coming in tomorrow to discuss the expansion.

  Eli Mayner owned the video store next door to the pharmacy for many, many years, but the store closed last year, since everyone pretty much rents their DVDs online now. He still owns the building, though, and that’s why we’re trying to make a deal with him. It was sad when the store closed, but Eli’s the kind of guy who just picks up and starts a new business. He bought a Web site that offers cheaper ways to rent cars and hire movers and even buy plane tickets. Grandma says he’s doing very well.

  I’m halfway through the mail when I come to a big white envelope. It has my name and the pharmacy’s name and address printed in thick black printer letters. The return address in the left-hand corner reads MAYOR DANES’S OFFICE.

  My heart starts pounding. I wasn’t expecting this to come today. Part of me has forgotten about the grant, because I’m so busy thinking about the spa.

  I don’t want to open it; I don’t want to know if it’s bad news. I don’t want it to ruin tomorrow with Eli Mayner.

  I sit at Grandma’s desk, the envelope in my hands. I can feel it getting wet from the sweat on my palms. I peer around and peek through the office door—I don’t hear Mom and Grandma at all. I stand up and look around, but I don’t see them either. Then, through the big front window of the pharmacy, I see them standing outside on the sidewalk talking to Mrs. Ganzi from the movie theater and Bruce from the fish market and a few other people who work at stores on this strip of Ocean Street.

  I might as well find out, I tell myself. I’ll open it, and if it’s bad news, I’ll just put it away and deal with it later. I turn the envelope over to rip it open with the letter opener.

  But I don’t need to open it to know the news that’s inside.

  Because right on the back of the envelope, it says CONGRATULATIONS in black capital letters. Underneath, it says YOU ARE A RECIPIENT OF THE OLD MILL GOING GREEN GRANT.

  I sigh, the biggest sigh of relief I’ve probably ever sighed in my entire life. That’s so nice that they put the news right there on the back of the envelope. It’s really considerate—like Mayor Danes and the people at his office know how nervous people’ll be when they see that letter in their stack of mail.

  I take the envelope and stand it up in the keys of Grandma’s computer keyboard. The back of the envelope is facing out, so the first thing Grandma will see when she gets back to the office will be CONGRATULATIONS.

  Beauty tip: A positive attitude goes a long way

  when it comes to beauty and life.

  Tell me more. When are you guys knocking the wall down between the pharmacy and the video store? When are you starting construction on the spa?” Sunny asks over the phone later that day. I can’t stop smiling from the good news about the grant, and I also can’t seem to stop talking about it. Grandma, Mom, Claudia, and now Sunny are so excited. “And are you gonna have one of those big ribbon-cutting ceremonies?”

  “I don’t know. The video-store guy is coming over tomorrow,” I say. “But I hope we have one of those ceremonies! I want to be the one who gets to cut the ribbon.”

  “I bet Claudia will get to do it,” Sunny says. “I feel like she’d beg for that.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” I figure I can give Claudia her moment in the sun. She did a lot to help me. “So, you and Evan—what are you guys?” I ask Sunny, changing the subject. We’ve been on the phone for twenty minutes, and the whole conversation has been about me. I’m excited about the grant, but sometimes even a businesswoman needs some gossip.

  “What do you mean?” Sunny asks.

  I hope I’m not being too nosy asking these kinds of questions, but I really think Evan is Sunny’s boyfriend. And I’m not sure if she realizes that yet. “I mean, like, are you and Evan officially together?”

  “Ummm.” Sunny pauses. “How would I know?”

  I want to try and find a way to explain this, even though I have never had a boyfriend before. But Claudia has. And other girls in our grade have. And if you have a boyfriend, you should know. “Okay, remember when Kelly Patterson was going out with Lucas Finney?”

  “Yeah,” Sunny says.

  “Well, remember when Kelly didn’t know if they were even boyfriend and girlfriend, but she didn’t really like Lucas anymore anyway and she wanted to go out with Troy Selub?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, like, Kelly had to ask Lucas. And Lucas said he thought they were going out. But then Kelly just broke up with him at the end of lunch that one day when they served fish tacos?”

  “Oh yeah!” Sunny says.

  “So you just need to ask Evan,” I tell her. “Just ask if you’re boyfriend and girlfriend.”

  “I can do that?” Sunny asks.

  “Totally. When are you seeing him next?” I ask.

  “I guess Earth Club next week. And you better be coming. Prom’s over now.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  “So what’re you gonna name the spa?” Sunny asks. “I’ve been thinking about it, but nothing good has to come to me. It’s gotta be something with green in it, though, especially now that you got the grant, don’t you think?”

  “Hmmm,” I say. “You know, I haven’t even really thought about it.”

  “Well, you’ve been busy,” Sunny says. “But I love thinking of names. So … something
green.”

  “Yeah.” I pause to think for a second.

  Sunny says, “And also something with pink in it, because, like, the makeup stuff, your love of anything pink. You have your Pink Lollipop lip-gloss that you love and that I’m obsessed with now too.”

  “Yeah, isn’t that stuff amazing?” Truthfully, I’m not so worried about a name right now. I’m just glad the whole thing will happen. We could call it “Old Mill Spa” and I’d be perfectly happy.

  “Well, so far we have two things for the name: pink and green.”

  “Okay, pink and green,” I say. “Maybe I’ll ask my mom. She’s already looking through the magazine catalogs for environment-themed periodicals. And she started an article for the Old Mill Observer about our renovation.”

  “She’s probably so proud of you.” Sunny laughs. “Changing the world one Desberg at a time.”

  “I guess.” I lean back and look at my mother sitting in the massage chair with her head back. For the first time in months, she actually looks relaxed. And for the first time in months, I actually feel relaxed.

  “You know, ‘Pink and Green’ isn’t such a bad name for a spa,” Sunny says. “Think about it.”

  Beauty tip: Dab a little perfume on each

  of your wrists before a special night out.

  at the pharmacy at six on the dot, just like he said he would. Sunny’s at Indian dance, so I don’t need to feel weird that we’re going to the movies without her. Or that I’m going with Yamir instead of her.

  I like that Yamir’s on time. And I’m not saying that Yamir’s my boyfriend or anything, because he definitely isn’t. But if he were, I’d like the fact that he’s prompt. It’s an important quality for a boyfriend to have.

  “What snacks should we get?” Yamir asks me, already scouring the candy aisle.

  “So you’re only going to the movies with me so that I can get us free snacks before, right?” I ask. “You’re always after that employee discount.”

  He gives me a look. “You’re dumb.”

  “I am not.”

  “Are too,” he says.

  Even though I like Yamir now, things really haven’t changed so much.

  We pick out chocolate-covered peanuts, my favorite, and sour twists, his favorite, and then a bag of kettle corn, which we both like. And then we head over to the theater.

  All throughout the movie, Superpower Aliens 3, I’m squirmy in my seat. It was Yamir’s idea to see this movie; I couldn’t care less about the Superpower Aliens movies. I bet there are gonna be a billion of them, and they’re all going to be exactly the same. But I try as hard as I can to pay attention to what’s happening on the screen. At least that way, Yamir and I will have something to talk about after the movie. And maybe next time, when I can pay better attention, when I’m used to seeing movies with Yamir, we can see a movie that we’ll both like.

  I’m pretty confident that there will be a next time.

  Right now, we’re sharing the bag of sour twists. He puts his hand in the bag to get one, and then I put my hand in the bag.

  And when there’s only one left, Yamir rips it in half so that we can share it. He gives me my half and then grabs my hand, pretending he’s scared about the alien that’s about to get killed on the screen.

  Yamir Ramal is holding my hand.

  But as soon as I get used to that idea, he lets go.

  After the movie ends, we walk back to the pharmacy. Sunny’s meeting us there when she’s done with Indian dance, and we’re going out for pizza with Evan, Sunny, and a few of Evan’s friends. I don’t know if that counts as a date or not, but it sounds fun either way.

  I peek into the pharmacy window to see if Sunny and everyone else is there already. I don’t see them. But I see a group of girls hanging out by the makeup section, talking and laughing, and some boys in the snack aisle.

  And I see Mom and Grandma, standing arm in arm, looking into the Relaxation Room.

  “I can see it now, on the pages of Connecticut Magazine,” Yamir says, spreading his hands out in the air like he’s seeing the magazine page in big letters: “Youngest Entrepreneur Ecologist in Connecticut History Saves Her Family Business and the Earth at the Same Time!”

  I laugh. Yamir’s probably going to grow up and be a movie producer, or maybe just write the trailers. He just has a way of making things sound good.

  “What? Don’t laugh. I mean it,” he says.

  “Okay.” I shrug. “I’ll take it. I hope I get to be on the cover then, and be in a fun photo shoot, and maybe also get a new wardrobe.”

  “Just don’t forget about me when you become big and famous, okay?”

  “How could I forget you?” I ask. “You’ll be designing my brochures and my business cards and whatever else I need.”

  He grins and sits down on the sidewalk right outside the pharmacy. I’m relieved; I don’t feel like going inside yet. I want to keep hanging out, just the two of us.

  “Sounds good to me,” he says.

  I sit down next to him on the sidewalk, and he grabs my hand again. But it’s different this time, different than before, at the movies.

  Because this time he’s holding my hand and not letting go.

  And I’m not letting go either.

  Acknowledgments

  but I’ll say it anyway: This is a dream come true, and I couldn’t have done it without all the love and support from family and friends.

  First and foremost, thank you Mom and Dad for putting up with me, for encouraging imagination, for raising me in a home full of books, and for always believing in me. I could fill up a whole bookshelf with thank-yous for the two of you.

  David and Max, thank you for making me laugh, for being the best brothers and the best friends.

  Bubbie, Zeyda, and Aunt Emily, thank you for the unconditional love. The three of you have always made me feel like a superstar.

  Thank you to the Rosenberg mishpacha for always asking how the writing was going in the sweetest way possible.

  Thank you, Grandpa, for the pharmacist inspiration behind this story. Thank you, Grandma, for teaching me the importance of chocolate and vanilla. I hope they have libraries and bookstores in heaven. Thank you to my beloved apricot poodle, Yoffi, for sitting next to me as I typed many pages of this story. I hope dogs can read in heaven.

  Rhonda, Melanie, Margaret Ann, and everyone at the Birch Wathen Lenox School: It’s a pleasure to work in such a caring and supportive environment.

  Longstocking Ladies—Kathryne, Coe, Daphne, Lisa, Jenny, Caroline, and Siobhan—I am so grateful for the writing critiques and the business talk, but I am most grateful for the friendship. And of course, the retreats.

  Thank you to everyone at the New School MFA Creative Writing Program—especially Sarah Weeks, Tor Seidler, and David Levithan.

  Margaret, Beverly, Wes, and Janine, thank you for teaching me so much about the world of children’s books.

  Thanks to Susan Van Metre for all of your creative insight, to Chad W. Beckerman for the awesome design and jacket, and to everyone at Abrams for all of your hard work.

  Many thank-yous to Maggie Lehrman for all the care, effort, thought, and energy you have put into this book. You are brilliant, and an A+++ editor.

  Alyssa Eisner Henkin, this book would not be a book without you. It would be a manuscript saved on my hard drive. You are a dream agent, and I am forever grateful for all that you do.

  Last but most certainly not least, thank you, Dave, for always saying when and not if, for asking me every single day if I’d written my daily five-page requirement, for cooking such delicious dinners, and for loving me no matter how crazy I get.

  Lisa Greenwald works in the library at the Birch Wathen Lenox School on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. She is also a recent graduate of the New School’s MFA program in writing for children. She lives with her husband in Brooklyn, New York.

  and designed by Chad W. Beckerman. The text is set in 12-point Adobe Garamond, a typeface based on th
ose created in the sixteenth century by Claude Garamond. Garamond modeled his typefaces on ones created by Venetian printers at the end of the fifteenth century. The modern version used in this book was designed by Robert Slimbach, who studied Garamond’s historic typefaces at the Plantin-Moretus Museum in Antwerp, Belgium. The display type is Hairspray.

  KEEP READING FOR A SNEAK PEEK AT

  LISA GREENWALD’S NEXT BOOK

  for another Nilla Wafer when it happened. Turned out, she wasn’t.

  I had just said, “And under his Brooklyn Cyclones sweatshirt he was wearing this Boston Museum of Science T-shirt. It’s gray, but faded, like he’s been wearing it for years.”

  And that’s when she reached across the floor, grabbed my notebook, and ripped out the page. Just like that. She didn’t even hesitate or anything.

  Before that, there was nothing out of the ordinary about the moment. We were doing what we always did—a recap of our day. Normally we recapped after school, over our snack, but we had all been busy after school today and so we had to recap after dinner, over dessert: Nilla Wafers and oolong tea.

  Georgia’s recap usually involved complaining about her math teacher, Kate’s usually involved a gossipy story about some girls in her homeroom or the boy-of-the-minute, and mine was always the same—showing them the day’s pages from my notebook and talking about PBJ.

  There are certain things that once you do them, you can’t undo. It’s like putting toothpaste back in the tube, as my dad always says. And that’s why more than anything else, I couldn’t believe that Kate had just done something like that. Something so final, so irreversible, so mean.

  And yet, I wasn’t really mad. Just shocked.

  “I’m sorry,” she said finally, but she didn’t mean it. I knew she didn’t. It was one of those fake sorrys you said just because you felt you had to.

  She crumpled up the piece of paper and threw it in the wicker garbage pail next to my bed. There were three years of marble notebooks—my Observation Notebooks—and before today, they were perfect. Not one missing page. Barely even a crinkled corner.

  “I’m sorry, but it’s just not normal,” Kate said. Again it was a fake sorry, a defensive sorry. “You can’t keep being obsessed with him like this. Writing down what he wears every day and who he talks to.” She paused and got up from my bed. “Especially if you don’t even talk to him yourself.”