Lucy's tip for surviving eighth grade:
Be open to new ideas.
My dad drives Sunny and me over to the pharmacy, and he keeps asking us questions. "Are you sure this is a good idea, Lucy?"
"Dad, it's for school."
"But Erica Crane? Isn't she a troublemaker? I should've saved all the e-mails you've written me about her."
"People change, Dad." Okay, that may be true, but I doubt it's true in Erica's case. She's still mean and competitive. But I don't need to tell my dad about that, because I know her well enough to know she's not being mean. Not yet, anyway.
Still, I get why he's asking these questions. I'm a little bit worried myself. I try to play it cool, though, and give her the benefit of the doubt.
We pull into the parking lot and Dad says, "Well, have a good time. Good luck." He gives me a kiss on the forehead and high-fives Sunny.
"You have a cool dad," Sunny says. "He's, like, responsible like a dad, but then fun like a kid. It's pretty much the perfect combination."
"Thanks, Sun."
We walk into the spa and it smells delicious, as always-lavender and eucalyptus with traces of vanilla.
"Lucy!" Grace, the spa receptionist, greets Sunny and me like we're celebrities. "What can I do for you beauties?"
"We're actually meeting two girls from school here," I tell her. "We're starting to prepare for the big eighth-grade dance, and I guess they want me to be in charge of makeup."
"Wow. Exciting!"
I'm about to answer when Grace holds up a finger, telling us to wait, as she picks up the phone. Every time I hear someone say, "Good evening, Pink and Green: The Spa at Old Mill Pharmacy," I feel this wave of excitement. It never gets old.
Grace books a spa appointment for the woman on the phone and then turns back to us with a smile. "All right, well, let me know if you need anything."
Sunny and I are early, so we wander through the pharmacy aisles like the good old days, making sure all the Silly Putty packages are in order and the lollipop bowl on the counter is fully stocked.
I turn to Sunny. "Hey, did I tell you that we finally cleaned out the basement?"
Sunny's eyes bulge. "Really? The thing your mom's been talking about for years and years?"
"Yup. Come down and see! Before everyone else gets here."
The basement at the pharmacy was our main storage facility-everything ended up there: old couches, empty boxes, sets of dishes Grandma didn't want, and of course pharmacy supplies. It was always a huge mess. And it was this thing that hung over my mom's head that my grandma had asked her a million times to deal with.
It took forever, but I'm so glad it's done because it looks amazing down here.
"Wow. This is like a whole other place now," Sunny says. "Honestly, we could hang out down here. Get a big-screen TV and stuff."
"I don't know about that," I say. "But come here, check out what we found!"
On the counter toward the back are a zillion old-fashioned pill bottles all lined up. They're brown and they have cork tops, and it's pretty hard to believe that anyone ever used them for medicine.
"I don't get it. What are they?" Sunny asks.
"People used to get their medicine in these! A million years ago! Aren't they cool looking? They've been down here all along and we had no idea."
"Pretty crazy." Sunny looks a little confused, like she's not sure why it's a big deal. She's still going on and on about how we should turn this basement into our official hangout.
"We should go upstairs and wait for them by the spa," I tell Sunny, after it's clear she's not as impressed by the old bottles as I am. "They probably won't know to look for us here."
We go upstairs and Sunny excuses herself to use the bathroom. I sit in the spa waiting area and flip through a magazine. I'm nervous, even though I really shouldn't be. I'm the one in charge here. This is my pharmacy, my spa, and I'm doing Erica a favor by helping with the makeup. But sometimes your brain isn't in control and there's nothing you can do about it.
"Hi, Lucy, sorry we're late," Zoe says, running in. "My parents have CLS."
"CLS?" I ask.
"Chronic Lateness Syndrome. They can't help it." She smirks. Zoe's petite and covered with freckles, and it's clear she thinks she's the cutest person on earth. In a way, she's self-confident and funny and likable, and in another way her whole attitude is kind of annoying. I can't totally decide how I feel about her, but I'm committed to getting to know her better.
"So, before we start," Zoe says, "Erica tells me you have a boyfriend in high school?"
It's a good thing Sunny's in the bathroom, because she always gets grossed out when people talk about her brother that way. And also because she knows the truth. It's hard to keep up a lie when people all around you know the truth.
"Yeah, I do. His name is Yamir." I smile so they don't think I'm full of myself.
"He's super cute," Erica adds. "He was definitely the cutest eighth grader last year."
"Thanks," I say. "I think so too."
"Of course you do." Erica rolls her eyes, and I guess a little bit of her old self is coming back. Despite what I told my dad, Erica Crane can't change completely.
"So, maybe we can all hang out, and then he can introduce me to some of his high school friends?" Zoe asks, all sweet.
"Maybe," I say, and then quickly change my tone. "I mean, sure, yeah."
"Great!" Zoe ties her hair back into a low ponytail. "I really don't know many people here yet, you know. It's January, and I still feel like the new girl."
Thankfully, Sunny gets back from the bathroom, so I don't have to say anything in response to that. Zoe probably doesn't know many people because she only hangs out with Erica. You either love Erica or you hate Erica, and there really isn't much in-between.
"So, should we start?" Sunny asks. "We only have an hour, right?"
"Right." I'm glad Sunny reminded everyone of that. Hours and hours with these two with no end in sight is too much for me to handle.
"By the way," I tell them, "there are people getting treatments right now, so we do have to keep it quiet. But I know that treatment room A is open, so we can go in there, and I can show you the makeup and everything. Sound good?"
"Sounds amazing," Zoe says. "Your family owns this spa?"
I nod.
"Erica, why are you not BFFs with Lucy?" Zoe asks her. "You could be getting free makeovers and massages, like, every day!"
Erica doesn't say anything to that. I bet she wishes her assistant would keep quiet for once.
Mariah, one of the aestheticians, pops her head out of a treatment room. "Let me know if you need anything, okay, Lucy?"
"I can't believe you, like, made this spa," Zoe says, looking at everything as we walk to the treatment room. "Erica was telling me all about it. It's pretty awesome. You have your college essay written already."
I can't help but laugh. "My college essay? I haven't even finished eighth grade yet!"
"I know, I know. My sister just started working on her essay, so my whole family is kind of obsessed with it."
Zoe is still talking about college essays, even though none of us have seriously started thinking about college yet. What I hear Zoe saying is that Erica was actually talking about me, telling Zoe about the spa, and sounding kind of impressed. Sometimes you jump to conclusions about people, assuming what they're thinking, when you really have no idea at all.
"So, what are you guys thinking for the dance?" I sit down and motion for everyone else to do the same.
"You want to talk first or should I?" Zoe asks Erica.
Erica doesn't answer the question but jumps right in. "We want everyone to get their makeup done here, and we'd like you to do it, and we'd like you to offer a discount. Eighth-Grade Masquerade is special because of the awesome costumes and makeup, and you guys are the makeup experts. What you did for Yamir's grade was incredible."
"Lucy can't do everyone's makeup!" Sunny says, way too loud, and I shush her. "She'd have to start, like, tomorrow! The staff has to be able to help her."
Erica glares at me. "Is that true, Lucy? Aren't you the expert?"
"I wouldn't say I'm an expert, but I know what I'm doing." I shift in my seat. I wonder if there will ever come a time when Erica Crane doesn't make me nervous. "Listen, I like to give each client the time and attention they deserve. I can't rush through it. People can make appointments with me on a first-come, first-served basis."
"She really is a professional!" Zoe laughs, and I think I'm starting to like her a little bit more. Sure, she's obsessed with Erica, but she's not afraid of her. That's impressive for someone who's met her so recently.
We're discussing when we should post the sign-up sheet and who else in the spa should do the makeup, so I go out into the reception area and get a pen and a pad to take notes. And who do I see walking right by the spa window?
Yamir. And he's not alone. He's with Clint and Anthony and two girls I don't know.
At first I pretend I don't see them, trying to look like I'm scavenging through the desk for materials. But then I can feel that they've seen me, and how long can a person possibly look through a desk drawer? So I pick my head up and we make eye contact.
Me in the spa reception area at eight on a Friday night, and Yamir on Ocean Street with his friends and two mystery girls.
I waffle between going out there or just waving from in here and hoping that they leave, but eventually the decision is made for me. Yamir and his people are coming in. Right now.
"Working the late shift, Luce-Juice?" Yamir asks.
"Um, kind of." I fold my arms across my chest, because I don't know what else to do with them. "Erica, Zoe, and Sunny are in back. We're discussing plans for the dance."
"Ah, Eighth-Grade Masquerade. What memories." Clint's being sarcastic, so I ignore him. He's pretty much sarcastic about everything. I'm used to it by now.
"What's that?" one of the girls asks.
"Oh, right. You're new. It's basically just this big dance where people wear costumes. It's kind of like an eighth-grade prom, but better," Yamir says, and I'm surprised he's actually saying that something from eighth grade is cool. He seems so into the high school thing now.
"Fun," she says, but it doesn't sound like she thinks it's fun. She's wearing black leggings and an oversize sweatshirt, and even though that sounds like a sloppy combination, she looks like a model.
"Where are you from?" I ask her. "I'm Lucy, by the way."
"Oh, so you're Lucy?" she asks, like she's been hearing about me for years. "I moved from Westport. I'm Sienna."
I make a mental note to ask Sunny about this girl later, but before I realize what's happening, Yamir and his crew are traipsing through the spa, looking into the treatment rooms. They find our group in treatment room A, and soon it feels like there are a thousand people in the spa.
"Is this what they use to clean your pores?" Anthony asks, holding the pumice stone for pedicures.
"No. Don't touch that." I take it away from him.
The longer they stay in here, the more stressed I get. They shouldn't be in here, they definitely shouldn't be touching everything, and I can't be in the same room as Yamir with all these other people. It feels like we're all in a balloon that's about to pop at any second.
"Oh, Yamir-Lucy's boyfriend," I hear Zoe whisper to Erica, and I ignore her, hoping that Yamir doesn't hear her. But it's clear he does-suddenly he starts fiddling with the string on his hooded sweatshirt and making some dumb joke about how he'd like a spa treatment.
Then he's standing in the corner, looking at the wall and admiring the abstract painting of a tree like he's at some kind of fancy art museum. He looks as stressed as I feel.
"Yamir, don't you want to sit next to your girlfriend?" Erica sings. I look down at my feet, but I can feel Sienna staring at me.
"It's okay, guys, I think it's time to go anyway," I announce. "The staff needs to close up."
"Do you want to come with us to Scotty's?" Anthony asks the group, and I have a suspicious feeling that he may have an instant crush on Zoe. It's just a hunch, but my hunches are usually right.
I look at Sunny and Sunny looks at me, and we try to speak with our eyes. I don't want to go to Scotty's. Not with them, anyway. Everyone thinks Yamir is my boyfriend and that everything is great between us, and I just need them to think that for a little while longer. But if we go to Scotty's and he acts weird, or hangs out with Sienna more than he hangs out with me, everyone will know. And by everyone I mean Erica and Zoe.
"Oh, we can't," Sunny says. Thank God. "Lucy's coming back to my house and sleeping over, and we have Evan and some of the other guys meeting us there around nine."
Genius. Sunny Ramal: Girl Genius.
"Ooh, Evan and some of the other guys," Clint says. "Well, okay, we're out. Come on, peeps."
And just like that, Yamir and the others walk out of the treatment room and leave the spa.
"It's cool that you and Yamir are together but, like, you can do things apart," Erica says. At first I can't tell if she's being sincere, but then I decide that she is. She's not smirking-that's how I know.
Zoe and Erica totally believe us about the sleepover, and fortunately they don't ask to be invited. Zoe's mom picks them up, and Charise offers to drive Sunny and me home.
"Should I really sleep over?" I ask Sunny.
"Sure. Why not?"
I get to Sunny's and call my mom to tell her I'm sleeping over.
"Lucy, I get worried about this," she says.
"Worried? Why?"
She pauses for a second. "You sleeping over there. While you and Yamir are, I don't know, an item."
I laugh. "Mom, it's fine. I'm hanging out with Sunny."
"Okay," she says, reluctantly. "Please behave."
I don't ask her to elaborate on what she means by that. I don't really want to know. Maybe if I told her what was really going on, she'd realize she doesn't have much to worry about.
I know I'll be up all night thinking about how Yamir is sleeping right there in the next room. I'll be wondering about that girl Sienna, and what exactly she knows about me.
But I'd rather be here than at home, thinking about all of this from five blocks away.
