“It’s definitely like that. But I think we’re doing a pretty good job, and I am so happy to ‘see’ you on my birthday.”
That made Ana grin. “Agreed. Okay, so, let me tell you the rest. Bri studied all of these magazines, figured out the color that she wanted, how much it was going to cost, why she should be allowed to have it done, and then she, wait for it, made a PowerPoint presentation!”
“Brielle? Omigod. Keep going!”
“She did! She practiced it with me a few times and then showed her parents. They were impressed with all of the thought Bri had put into it. Her mom told her to give them a couple of days to discuss it and they would let her know.”
“I can’t believe they said yes. It has to be pretty expensive, and Bri’s going to need touch-ups and stuff like that.”
Brielle was lucky, like Ana and me, that her family wasn’t hurting for money. But our parents never handed us anything either. That was one of the things that had bonded us at Yates Prep—a school filled with students of privilege.
“I think that’s why Bri’s parents ultimately said yes,” Ana said. “Bri promised a bunch of things, like As in all of her classes, doing more chores around the house, and working at the salon every Saturday to help pay for some of the cost.”
“The salon gave her a job? Seriously? Do they know she’s twelve?”
“Get this,” Ana said. “Brielle had a ‘meeting’ with the owner and the manager of the salon, and the owner, Suzi, agreed. Bri can only work for three hours every weekend, and she’ll just be sweeping up hair, mopping—stuff like that.”
“Wait. If she’s spending three hours at the salon on Saturday, when is she riding?”
“Oh, she’s been riding at a different time than me for a while now. I totally forgot to tell you. She’s riding in the evening, and she started taking private lessons on Sunday morning.”
“Oh.” I tried not to sound or look as hurt as I felt. “That’s cool. I’m glad Bri’s not missing riding and that she’s getting to go blond.”
Ana and I spent a few more minutes exchanging semi-uncomfortable small talk.
“I’ve better get off Skype,” I said. “I have to get ready for tonight.”
Ana smiled. “You’re going to have so much fun. I can’t wait to hear every detail!”
“I’m really excited. I’m sure somebody will post pics on FaceSpace, too.”
“I’ll be looking. And hey, I’m so sorry that my present and card didn’t get there today. Bri and I sent ours together, and we mailed them a day too late.”
“It’s okay. It’ll give me something else to look forward to!”
We said good-bye and hung up. I realized too late that Ana hadn’t brought up whatever she’d wanted me to call her about. Maybe I should call her back, I thought. If it was that important, though, Ana would have tried to talk to me again way before now.
I let all of it go, including the Blond Brielle ordeal, and let my thoughts drift to my party.
BEST. EBTS. EVER.
LATER ON, KHLOE AND I WERE IN OUR ROBES, our dresses hanging on our closet doors. We’d both showered and dried our hair. Styling would come later.
All day I’d been fielding texts from Canterwood friends, Brielle, Ana, Becs, Char, and my parents. I promised Bri and Ana that I’d call them and had texted thank-yous to Becca, Charlotte, and my parents for the DVD.
While Khloe was in the shower, I’d used the alone time to open my cards. My parents and sisters had given me a gift card to Macy’s, and I was already itching to get online to look at clothes.
Everyone had written sweet messages that had made me cry. I’d felt like a huge baby, but I missed home. I tried to remind myself that I did have Whisper and she was a part of Union and Briar Creek. Thinking about Wisp had cheered me up, and by the time she’d gotten out of the shower, Khloe hadn’t noticed that I’d been upset.
Khloe’s phone beeped and she swiped it, glancing at the screen. “Okay, I have to tell you something,” she said. She gave me a larger-than-usual smile.
Uh-oh.
“Khloeee,” I said, standing and crossing my arms. “What did you do?”
Khloe hopped from foot to foot. “I know you said no presents, but—”
“Khloe!” I shook my head. “I was serious. I don’t need anything. You, Lex, Clare, and Jill already donated to the retired racehorse charity—it’s all that I want.”
There was a knock on our door. I stared at Khloe with wide eyes.
“I can’t exactly take it back,” Khloe said. “And I think it’s something you’re really going to like.”
She hurried to the door, and I expected to see Christina or a delivery person when she opened the door. Instead, a smiling woman with fiery red streaks in her black hair smiled at us.
“Khloe?” she asked.
“Yes,” Khloe said. “Whitney, right?”
The woman—Whitney—nodded. I saw a bag over her shoulder and two giant black cases with silver latches.
“Hi,” Whitney said to me. “I bet you’re the birthday girl, Lauren.”
I nodded, still not sure what was going on. “Nice to meet you.”
“C’mon in,” Khloe said. “Put your stuff anywhere.”
Whitney was dressed in a black V-neck sweater with sequin lining and skinny jeans. She set her bag on the ground and the cases beside it.
“Who’s going first?” Whitney asked, looking between Khloe and me.
“Um,” I finally said. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Ooops!” Khloe said, giggling. “Lauren, Whitney is a professional makeup artist. Since this is your big night, I didn’t want you to worry about doing your makeup. It’s kind of a present for both of us, since Whitney’s doing my makeup and yours.”
“Wait. What? You got us a makeup artist?” I had to have misheard her.
Khloe gave me a tiny nod.
“Omigod!” I threw my arms around Khloe. “I said no presents, but this is beyond awesome. We’re going to look amazing and perfect for the party.”
Khloe grinned. “I’m so glad you’re not mad at me.”
“How could I be? Having my makeup done by a professional makes me feel like a celebrity. Like we’re about to go to the most glam party ever!”
Khloe pointed me toward my desk chair. “You are a celeb tonight. And hey, you haven’t seen the party planning skills of Canterwood girls. We throw the most glam parties on the East Coast.”
I sat down in my chair, and Whitney stood. She’d been crouched on the floor, opening her black cases, which had revealed the most makeup I’d ever seen. Khloe pulled out our nail polish collection and spread out everything at the end of her bed.
“Your skin is gorgeous, Lauren,” Whitney said. “Mind putting your hair in a ponytail for me?”
“Thank you, and no problem.” I pulled back my hair, and Whitney opened a pack of foundation sponges.
“Your skin is even enough that I’m going to use a mousse type of foundation that’s incredibly light and sheer,” Whitney said. “If there’s anything you don’t like, tell me and we’ll not only fix it, but I’ll make it even better.”
“That sounds good,” I said.
“What’s the color of your dress?” Whitney asked. “I want to make sure I don’t choose any makeup shades that will clash.”
I pointed to my dress, on a padded hanger hooked over my closet door.
“That’s beautiful!” Whitney said. “Mind if I take a look?”
“Not at all!”
Whitney looked at my dress, touching the fabric and looking at the sequins.
“Did you choose this yourself?” she asked.
“I found it online,” I said. “I’d looked at what felt like a million dresses, and none of them felt right. Then I saw this one, and I fell in love with it from the cut to the color.”
“Are you interested in fashion?” Whitney asked, stepping back to her makeup kits. “I hope so!”
I smiled. “I lov
e fashion. I’m taking an intro course this year. I’m learning to sew and am making a costume with a partner for the school’s fall play.”
Whitney, Khloe, and I fell into a long conversation while Whitney started my makeup. Khloe didn’t know that she’d hired a makeup artist who also did makeup for several up-and-coming stars, including a Broadway actor that Khloe was obsessed with.
“Pause,” Khloe said, holding up a freshly manicured hand. “Those brushes have touched Nadia Reese’s face? Oh. My. God.”
Whitney laughed. “They have been cleaned since then, but yes.”
The look in Khloe’s eyes was far away, as if she hadn’t heard Whitney. “Those brushes touched Nadia Reese,” Khloe repeated in a whisper.
Whitney and I traded smiles as she did my makeup, and Khloe stayed in a dreamlike state. The process was calming, almost like a massage. Whitney used at least half a dozen different-size brushes to apply everything from concealer to eye shadow.
“See what you think!” Whitney said, handing me a mirror.
“Ooh, Lauren!” Khloe said, clasping her hands. She watched as I held the mirror in front of me. I stared, wide-eyed, at my reflection.
“Whoa.” I blinked and peered closer at myself. “It’s exactly what I wanted, Whitney! Thank you! Thank you!”
Whitney’s bright red lips parted into a giant smile. “Oh, I’m so glad. It’s your thirteenth birthday party, and I wanted your makeup to enhance your beauty, not cover you up.”
Khloe hopped off her bed and put her face inches from mine. “Wow, wow. Laur, you look just like you except ready to party!”
True to her word, Whitney had kept my foundation light. My skin didn’t look buried under a layer of caked-on makeup. Any blemishes were gone, and my skin tone was even.
My eyelids had been dusted in a light gray with a silver shimmer. A coat of mascara and curled lashes made my eyes look wider.
I made a mental note to ask Whitney for any EBTs she could share—especially about eyes. Khloe and I did have an expert in our room—we’d be crazy not to ask for tips!
Peachy blush had been dusted on the apples of my cheeks and my cheekbones. An almost-matching gloss felt smooth on my lips and added a hint of color.
“I want you to keep this,” Whitney said, picking up a tube of gloss. “It’s the shade you’re wearing, and now you’ll be able to reapply it as needed tonight.”
Thanking her, I took the gloss and hugged her, and Khloe slid into my chair.
“I know this is something I could get used to,” Khloe said, smiling and letting out a deep sigh.
Whitney and I laughed. “I haven’t even chosen colors for you,” Whitney said. “Show me your dress.”
“Bye!” Khloe and I said as Whitney left. With a smile, the makeup artist closed our door behind her.
I’d watched every second when Whitney had applied Khlo’s makeup. My BFF looked très belle, with makeup shades that complemented her tan. Light gold eye shadow, tinted moisturizer, a shimmery bronzer, mascara, and rosy lip gloss made Khloe look like a model.
“I wanted Whitney to stay forever,” I said.
Khloe pulled off her headband. “Me too. She was the coolest, and we got this!”
Khloe held up a royal-purple business card with gold lettering.
I took the card, almost not sure it was real. This card was like gold. Whitney had connections in the fashion business and in entertainment. She had told us to contact her if we ever needed anything that related to her field—from potential celeb interviews and audition dates for Khloe, to fashion show tickets for me. Whitney said she couldn’t make any promises, but Khloe and I were in agreement that it was more than enough to have contact with Whitney.
“The best part is that Whitney’s going to e-mail us some EBTs,” I said.
Khloe checked her reflection again, then turned to me. “I know! We’re going to have professional makeup tips. Not that we didn’t look killer before.”
Smiling, I reached over and hugged Khloe.
“Thank you, thank you,” I said as she squeezed me back. “That was the coolest present. I know you put a lot of thought into it.”
“You’re very welcome, LT. I’m so glad it worked out and that we got a makeup artist that didn’t make us look twenty-five or something.”
We giggled as we both reached for our dresses and laid them on our beds.
“Plus, Whitney was a present for me, too.”
I stepped back so I could look Khloe in the eye. “You’re making it seem as if it wasn’t a big deal, but what you did for me was more than getting my makeup done. I feel . . . pretty. I feel confident going to my party—my first at Canterwood. That’s because of you. It’s a big deal.”
Khloe’s eyelids sparkled with gold flecks as she blinked. Fast.
“Lauren Towers!” Khloe waved her hands in front of her eyes. “I don’t do emotional unless it’s for a role or something. If you make me cry, you are calling Whitney and getting her back here!”
This soft side of Khloe was usually hidden beneath her upbeat, always-on personality. It made me feel more bonded to Khlo when I got to see this side of her.
I pointed to the clock. “I won’t say another word. We have zero time to get Whitney back because we have to do our hair, get dressed, and be out the door soon.”
Khloe looked at the time. “Omigod! We really do have to get going.” She dashed to her desk, plugging in both of our large-barreled curling irons. She turned around, a gentle look on her face.
“Thank you for what you said. And I know exactly what you mean.”
With that said, we turned on an upbeat mix on my iPod and got ready to party.
IT’S ALMOST TIME
“WE HAVE TO BE OUT OF HAWTHORNE IN ten!” I said. I was touching up my pinky nail with pearly pink polish—I’d smudged it a moment ago.
“I’ll be ready,” Khloe said. She was adding a few extra curls to her hair. “You?”
“Same.”
I realized I was breathing fast even though I was sitting on my bed. I’d finished getting ready moments ago and was playing with my delicate, thin hoop earrings. After Whitney had left, it was as if Khloe and I had gone from zero to sixty in seconds. Accessories had been traded. Hair advice had been given. Shoes had been given a thumbs-up. Now, with time to think, I’d never felt this many emotions at once.
Nerves.
This was my first Canterwood party. On top of that, it was my party. What if no one but my closest friends came? What if Drew didn’t show? I envisioned unlikely but possible scenarios: spilling punch on my dress, tripping and landing on my butt, dancing and looking like a crazy person.
Excitement.
I was thirteen. This was my party at Canterwood, and I had been waiting all month for this night. It wasn’t just my birthday, it was also Halloween. That holiday would have been enough on its own to make me this giddy.
Sadness.
Becca, Ana, and Brielle weren’t here. Becca and I had trick-or-treated together as long as I could remember. Even when Becca had gotten too old to snag free candy, she’d taken me and we’d felt cool and grown-up being outside after dark without Mom or Dad. Ana and Brielle loved Halloween too, and we’d even made costumes for our horses. There would be an absence of my two best Union friends, no matter how many Canterwood students came tonight. A flash of Taylor’s face went through my brain. He counted among my list of friends. I wished he could celebrate with me.
Thankful.
I was still a new student at Canterwood. I’d been lucky enough to be paired with an amazing roommate. Plus, I’d found wonderful friends and, without them, getting through Canterwood would be tough, okay, nearly impossible.
I slipped back to reality when Khloe twirled in her black dress in front of me, grinning.
“Time for the reveal of the masks!” she said. “They’re the last thing we need, and then it’s off to the ballroom.”
We each pulled boxes—mine black and Khloe’s white—from our closets
. I’d stayed up almost all night the day our dresses had arrived in the mail to look for the perfect mask. It hadn’t been easy, and I’d combed site after website until I’d found it.
“You first,” I said.
Khloe bowed her head. “Your wish, birthday girl. Here it . . . is!” She lifted the top of the box and pulled out a stunning white mask on a matching stick. The mask was shiny satin, and on the side, a quarter-size rhinestone sparkled. A giant ostrich plume, about the length of my forearm, wasn’t to be missed. From the jewel, about a dozen smaller, quill-like feathers fanned out into a half circle.
“Khlo! Omigosh! That is so insanely gorgeous! It’s going to stand out so well with your dress.”
Khloe held the mask up to her face. “Yay! I’m so glad you like it. I thought I’d go for a really colorful one, but there was something about this mask that made me get it.”
“It’s perfect,” I said. “So elegant.”
“Your turn!” Khloe said, putting her mask down.
I unwrapped tissue paper from my mask and held it up. “Here’s mine!”
“Lauren!” Khloe said. “Wooow.”
I smiled, looking at my mask. It was different holding it up against my dress when Khloe was out of the room to make sure it matched than actually wearing my dress with it.
I’d chosen a Venetian-style mask that was silver with rose-colored pink around the eyes and tiny pink rhinestone swirls. The edge of the mask had a braided silver trim. In the center of the mask, a larger pink oval-shaped jewel rested on top of the mask, and dozens of thin, wispy pink feathers bloomed behind it. The stick was braided silver, just like the trim.
“That is so, so beautiful, and I don’t know how you found such a great match for your dress,” Khloe said.
I grinned. “It took forever. But it was totally worth it!”
We both held our masks to our faces, giggling. “Shall we?” Khloe asked, handing me my silver clutch and holding on to her black one.
“We shall.”
THIS IS HOW CANTERWOOD PARTIES
I STEPPED INTO THE BALLROOM, LOWERING my mask. I couldn’t believe I was still on campus. This looked nothing like the ballroom. It looked . . . like the perfect place for a masquerade party!
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