I So Don't Do Makeup

by Barrie Summy

I point to my phone and put my index finger against my lips. “I’m pretty sure he finds me cute too. He won’t stop talking to me.”

  “No, I don’t.” He frowns. “I don’t find you cute at all. Anyway, aren’t you, like, in middle school?”

  “Now he’s judging me.” I’m about two inches from the trash. “No, I’m not going to cry.” I gulp loudly. “Seriously, I’m fine.”

  Adam throws his arms up in despair and stomps to the other end of the kiosk.

  In a flash, I tip the trash can on its side and peek in.

  Empty!

  I hop up, drop my phone in my purse and take off running to the department store. There’s a good chance Crystal wouldn’t be dumb enough to toss the Hair-B-Gone in Lacey’s trash. She probably believes no one will ever suspect her in a million years. Which means no one would ever think to check the trash at her counter.

  No one except me!

  I’m dashing along, cursing under my breath. Why oh why did the janitors choose today to actually empty the trash cans? I cross my fingers, hoping they went for a break and never emptied Crystal’s trash.

  At the department store, I screech to a halt. Crystal’s over at Suze’s counter, showing a customer lash curlers.

  For the second time in ten minutes, I drop to the floor. Catlike, I crawl next to Crystal’s display case and slink around the corner. I keep low and out of sight. It’s my pounding heart that might give me away.

  I sneak behind the counter, reach into the trash.

  Empty!

  Foiled again!

  I retrace my steps, crawling backward until I’m in the shoe department. I pull myself to my feet and dust off my knees.

  The good news: Crystal didn’t spot me.

  The bad news: My next stop will be the nearest Dumpster.

  I slide the bolt, releasing the Dumpster lid. Then, with two hands, I heave it back and open.

  I’m not actually climbing in the Dumpster. The Hair-B-Gone bottle must be in a trash bag very recently chucked in here. I’ll just walk my fingers along the top bags and … I can’t feel any bags. Everything’s too far down.

  Yikes! I’m going in.

  I curl my fingers around the lip of the Dumpster opening. My beautiful oversized denim purse slips off my shoulder, down my arm and dangles from my wrist, clunking against my hip. I let it drop to the asphalt. Why subject this adorable accessory to the horrors of a Dumpster? Probably it would soak up the trashy smell and attract loud, meowing alley cats for months to come. No, my purse does not need to face humiliation. Bad enough that I’m sacrificing my plaid shorts and scoop-neck top.

  Sherry Holmes Baldwin, Dumpster Diver.

  A quick check around. No witnesses. The Dumpster’s way at the end of the parking lot. There’s not a car around.

  One. Two. Three.

  I haul myself up, throw a leg over the edge, plug my nose and tumble in. I land on my back. On a bed of bumpy, chunky plastic trash bags. I listen carefully. Nothing. Phew. No rats.

  The inside of the Dumpster is rusty. And stinky. But not very full.

  This is the absolute grossest thing I have ever done in my entire life. By far. The sooner I get out of here, the better.

  I unplug my nose and breathe through my mouth. I’ll be faster with two free hands. I start squeezing bags from the outside, feeling for a bottle shape.

  I get lucky. I happen upon a trash bag loaded with bottle shapes. I tear it open. Pay dirt! It’s full of cosmetic products. From the department store.

  And there in the middle, not even attempting to hide from me, is a sunshine yellow bottle of Hair-B-Gone.

  How to pick it up without destroying fingerprints?

  Using the hem of my T-shirt as a rag, I carefully hold the bottom of the bottle. I don’t want to smudge any of Crystal’s precious prints.

  Unfortunately, climbing out of a Dumpster is harder than climbing in. I’m trying to balance, one-handed, on a slippery bed of bags crammed with irregular shapes. Not working. I need both hands to pull myself up to the lip.

  I drop the bottle of Hair-B-Gone outside the Dumpster. It thuds on the ground.

  I crouch down low, ready to spring up like a tiger and hoist myself out of the land of stink.

  Just as I’m uncoiling, the lid slams shut.

  The world goes dark.

  The bolt rasps.

  I’m trapped.

  chapter

  thirty-four

  “Help! Help!” I yell. “I’m in here!”

  Nothing.

  I pound on the sides, scraping my knuckles.

  Nothing.

  I pound and yell.

  Still nothing.

  I talk to myself. “Sherry, do not panic. Yes, you are trapped in a rusty, smelly, dark Dumpster where no one hears your pounding and screaming. But, think, think, think—there must be a way out.”

  My mom!

  The Ziploc bag of espresso coffee beans is in my purse. And I see my purse slipping and sliding down my arm to a safe haven on the ground, near the Dumpster. I can’t call my mother.

  My friends!

  I reach into my jeans pocket for my phone. Not there. And then I remember slipping my phone in my purse after I checked the trash at the kiosk. I can’t call my friends.

  The situation is dire.

  Sitting in the pitch black on lumpy, stinky trash bags, I hunch over and grab my knees. And start to cry.

  Then I cry harder, because the situation is beyond dire. The Dumpster isn’t even half full. I don’t hear the wheels of a cart rolling along the parking lot pavement. It could be days before a janitor stops by with the next load of trash.

  Then I cry some more because the situation is beyond beyond dire. Do I really think an over-enthusiastic mall janitor who likes closed lids happened by and accidentally locked me in the Dumpster?

  No, this is the work of Crystal!

  She must’ve spotted me checking her trash. She figured out I was on to her and followed me to the Dumpster. Even worse, she probably discovered the bright yellow bottle of Hair-B-Gone on the ground. Which means she has the evidence.

  Not only have I botched the makeup mystery, I’ve let down loads of people and ghosts. My mom, the entire Academy, the entire mysterious foreign Academy, people all over the world who will be way less safe because of me.

  I’ve never felt this low before. Ever.

  Finally, even I run out of tears. I wipe under my eyes with the back of my hand. I sniff loudly.

  Weirdly, a good cry clears my head. And this is what I come up with.

  I gotta save myself.

  I feel around in the dark for something to bang the sides and the lid with. Something that will make a louder noise than my voice.

  And I find it. A plank of wood.

  I grasp the wood and start swinging and connecting with metal. The metal sides, the metal lid. It’s loud. It’s echoey. It’s probably damaging my hearing.

  But I keep on swinging. Even when my arms feel like they’re going to tear loose from their sockets. Even when my muscles are screaming with fatigue. I’m swinging for my mom. I’m swinging for Lacey. I’m swinging for freedom everywhere.

  “Sherry!”

  “Nick?”

  “I found her!” Nick yells. “I found her!”

  The bolt creaks across. The lid pops open. Sunlight floods in, blinding me.

  I stand. With two very weary arms, I pull myself up and peer over the edge:

  Josh, Junie, Nick and Adam, the security guard.

  Adam takes a step back, like I’m one of America’s Most Wanted. “You?”

  My dad and The Ruler made all the usual grown-up noises about how I took risks and how I could’ve been really hurt and yada, yada, yada. But, basically, they’re super proud of me.

  I’m all showered and dressed in clean clothes and kicking it on our backyard patio with Josh, Junie, Nick and Brianna. Brianna’s thrilled that she had an afternoon appointment for Fantabulous You! because, of course, it was canceled. Which me
ans she has all her hair. The girls are spending the night.

  Sam’s watering. The Ruler’s releasing ladybugs into the tomato plants. Grandma’s wandering around the garden with them, touching her head from time to time, where she’s wound a tie-dyed kerchief. On Monday, she’s getting together with Amber, who promised to work on her with hair extensions and weaves. For now, anyway, Grandma seems pretty okay with the multicolored kerchief thing she’s got going. My dad’s messing with the barbecue, getting ready to grill up a bunch of burgers and tofu something-or-other.

  Earlier, we explained everything to the police and to the mall manager. Lacey’s back in business. Crystal’s in deep trouble. No one knows yet what she’ll be charged with, but it could be as serious as aggravated assault, meaning she tried to hurt people on purpose.

  Now we’re going over the details and filling in Brianna.

  “I’ll never forget sitting in the security office and watching those cameras when, all of sudden, Crystal jogs into the mall, hauling Sherry’s purse.” Josh turns his deep blue eyes on me. “Very freaky.” He rubs my shoulder. “And then I called Sherry’s cell, and Crystal reached into that huge purse, feeling around, trying to find it.” Josh grabs my hand under the table. “I had no idea where Sherry was.”

  “Oooh.” Brianna gives a little shake. “Scary.”

  Oooh. And how romantic to hear how worried Josh was about me.

  “That’s when Nick and I showed up.” Junie scoops up a few chips. “We’d been to the drugstore and learned that Crystal bought the Hair-B-Gone there. I phoned Sherry’s cell, but she didn’t answer. So we raced to security to see Josh, hoping he knew what was up.”

  “I was really impressed with the mall security.” Nick pops the tab on a can of a Coke. “The guy watching the cameras with Josh didn’t even hesitate, but immediately called for backup. He watched where Crystal went via the cameras and kept in constant contact with the security guy trying to pick her up.” He sips. “And he involved the mall manager right away.”

  “My favorite part was calling your phone over and over.” Junie giggles. “Crystal never could find it in your ginormous purse. It was driving her nuts.”

  “So the security guy followed the sounds of ‘You’re the One,’ by the Boyfriends, right to her.” I laugh.

  “Crystal crumbled in two seconds and told the security guy she’d locked Sherry in a Dumpster,” Josh says.

  “Apparently, Crystal kept running on at the mouth. It was like once she admitted what she’d done”—Nick passes his Coke to Junie—“she couldn’t stop the flow. Good thing the mall manager showed up quickly, so he could make sense of what was going on.”

  Josh looks at me. “How do you know Adam, the security guy that caught Crystal? When you jumped out of the Dumpster, he totally recognized you.”

  My face goes hot. “I was checking Lacey’s trash, and he was kind of giving me a hard time because he wasn’t allowed to let anyone hang around there. And I was, uh, giving him a hard time back.”

  We go quiet, just chilling. Solving the mystery together created a bond, and we’re all sitting there remembering the investigation in our own way. Even Brianna can relate, because she passed on info about the Janes.

  “How about some Ping-Pong?” Josh squeezes my hand, then lets go and stands. “Sherry and I’ll take on anybody.”

  “Don’t expect much from me. My arms are still super sore from whacking the Dumpster with the board.” But I head into the shed to grab paddles and balls.

  A coffee smell whooshes in next to me.

  “Mom!”

  “Congratulations, Sherry. You solved another mystery.”

  “How are you? What’s going to happen? Are you in trouble?”

  “According to Mrs. Howard, I am. I won’t know the details till I get called in for a meeting.”

  “I’m really sorry, Mom. I ruined your chances with the foreign Academy.”

  “I wouldn’t change how I handled things. Except I wish I’d been in on the mystery sooner. Anyway, I came by to make sure the investigation is all wrapped up for you.”

  “Well”—I twirl my hair around my finger—“I get the motive about Crystal wanting to shut down Naked Makeup so she’d get her customers back and rock her sales and land the Montreal job.”

  “Right,” Mom says.

  “Lacey and Amber never questioned why she hung around the kiosk. They considered her a good friend.” I pick up paddles and balls. “She had loads of opportunity.”

  “You identified all the contaminants,” Mom says.

  “And she got hold of them easily.” I shove Ping-Pong balls in my shorts pocket.

  “Exactly,” my mom says. “The active ingredient in the chili pepper is capsicum. I have a little extra info on the time-release papaya acid. Nite Sprite Creme normally contains two percent acid, which is low enough that you can leave it on all night. Crystal boosted it up to twenty percent, which should only be left on for a matter of minutes. She added in timerelease beads filled with extra papaya acid.”

  “She used the time-release acid so we’d leave it on too long?”

  “Yes. She assumed the burning and itchiness would eventually wake the user up, but not until the acid had done some skin damage.”

  Sam powers into the shed. “Where’s the Ping-Pong stuff? Brianna said she’d be my partner.” His eyes are bright.

  I pass him the equipment.

  He turns to leave, then freezes. “Remember when I was telling you how it sometimes feels like Mom’s here and watching over us?”

  Goose bumps pop up on my arms. “Yeah.”

  Sam peers around the shed. “I have that feeling right now. Do you?”

  “Yeah.” Goose bumps pop up on top of my goose bumps.

  “I love that feeling.” He waves a paddle at me. “Brianna and me will own you and Josh.” He runs out.

  “Sam senses me.” Mom’s voice catches.

  The barbecue has cooled down. The backyard is tidied up. The guys and Grandma have left. Our house is quiet.

  Except for me, Junie and Brianna. We’re sitting cross-legged on sleeping bags in the middle of my room. We are totally wide awake and looking for fun.

  “Wanna make popcorn and watch scary movies?” I ask.

  Brianna’s playing with her hair, holding it up high in a ponytail, then letting it swish loose. “I’m not in the mood for scary. A chick flick maybe.”

  “I know what I’m never doing.” Junie smoothes out her pillow. “Night cream.” She leans back. “I’m not risking an experience like that again.”

  Brianna and I sigh.

  “Totally understandable,” Brianna says. “Even though, thanks to you guys, Naked Makeup is safe, you don’t want to take chances with your face. I mean, you only have one.”

  Junie places her hands on her cheeks as if to protect them. “You got it.” She wrinkles her nose to push up her glasses. “That’s a whole area of makeup that’s over for us now.”

  The three of us blow out a long, deep breath. Then we sit quietly, hugging our knees, in the bluish glow of the aquarium light and contemplate this sad, sad fact.

  “Unless,” I say slowly, “we make our own cream. And we only put in super healthy and natural ingredients.”

  “And mix it up ourselves,” Brianna says quickly.

  Junie’s got her phone open and logs on to Google faster than you can say “Nite Sprite Creme.” “Does The Ruler have old-fashioned oats and plain yogurt?” she asks.

  I jump up. “Definitely!”

  We tiptoe down the stairs, along the hall and into the kitchen. Brianna’s hunting for yogurt in the fridge, Junie’s getting down a mixing bowl, and I’m in the pantry, scrounging for oats.

  “Sherry!” Brianna calls. “There’s a bird pecking at the window by the sink. He’s pecking hard enough to crack the glass.”

  Junie pokes her head into the pantry. “It’s your grandfather,” she whispers.

  I plunk the container of oats on the counter, then unlo
ck the porch door.

  Brianna’s on my heels. “I’ll help you get rid of him.”

  “I’m good, Bri.” I crack the door so that only I can squeeze through. “This happens all the time.”

  “There are some very weird things about your life, Sherry.” Shaking her head, she wanders over to Junie and the ingredients.

  I step onto the back porch.

  With a raggedy flutter, Grandpa swoops around the corner, setting off the motion light. He hovers in the air by my head. He squawks, “Good job, Sherry.”

  Or he might’ve squawked, “You’re a blob, Sherry.” But I decide to assume it’s the compliment. “Thanks, Grandpa.”

  “Dairy Queen. Tomorrow. Ten a.m.”

  Yikes.

  chapter

  thirty-five

  I arrive early at Dairy Queen.

  Unlike my last visit, the place is pretty empty. I use the restroom to prepare for my trip across the threshold with the regular stuff: sunglasses, bike helmet, aluminum foil.

  Before leaving the house, I tossed an extra item into my backpack. Tape. For extra arm and leg coverage, I tape down the foil.

  I pull open the Employees Only door and step through the Portal of Pain. It’s not as difficult to cross this time. Maybe because I’m better protected. Maybe because I’m early, it’s not turned on full force. Maybe I’m so depressed about how my actions have messed up things for so many people and ghosts that the pain is the same, but I’m not feeling it.

  Whatev. I’m in the Academy of Spirits. Alone. I yank off my helmet and sunglasses and shove them in my backpack. Then I slump down on the bench.

  No Oreo Cookies Blizzard. Not that I was really expecting one. But it would’ve been nice.

  I sit there, slouched over and sad. I wonder what’s going to happen to my mother. She certainly won’t get picked up for an assignment by the persnickety foreign Academy. All because I stubbornly went ahead with an investigation. I feel horrible.

  My eyes fill with tears.

  The problem is that I don’t think I could’ve changed the choices I made. Which makes it all even worse. But I wanted to help Lacey. And I wanted to catch the person who tampered with the makeup and harmed me and Brianna and especially Junie.