Page 45

“Mom?” Jenna’s muffled voice is followed by a knock on my bathroom door.

“Yeah, baby, come in,” I say as I dab foundation over my face. I’ve never been big on makeup, but as I’ve gotten older, I’ve started to notice the dark spots caused by years of sunbathing without the proper protection. My mom didn’t believe in sunscreen when we were growing up. I thought I had won the skin tone jackpot having my olive skin, but little did I know that the spots would be more defined. So now I spend a small fortune to try to look like I have healthy, non-spotted skin.

When she enters, she’s dressed and ready, which is unusual since I’m usually the one waiting for her. Her wavy, chocolate hair is silky straight and parted down the middle, and her cheeks and lips are highlighted by a shimmery pink color.

“You almost ready?” she asks as she props her hip on the sink counter.

“Not really. I need to finish my makeup and comb out my hair.” I stop brushing the powder over my face and take in what she’s wearing. “You know its winter, right? Why are you wearing shorts with that sweater? You’re going to freeze.”

She rolls her eyes. “We’re going to be inside. It’s not like the mall won’t have the heater blasting.”

“Still, I don’t need you sick. Go put some jeans on.” I continue with the power, ignoring her while I try to finish my makeup.

“Ugh,” she groans as she stomps her foot. “Can’t I at least keep the shorts and put some leggings on underneath?”

“That’s fine.”

“Let me finish your makeup.”

I stop what I’m doing and look at her in the mirror. “What?”

“Come on, Mom. Let me do your eyes. They’ll be litty by the time I’m through.”

“What the heck is litty?”

“You know, lit–on point.” She rolls her eyes again. “You know you’ll look poppin’ when I’m done.”

“Yeah, I don’t care to look litty, on point, poppin’, hot, or whatever you kids use these days. I just want to finish getting ready so we can leave and I can come home and pack. I leave for New York soon, and I want to be ready.”

“Whatever,” she grumbles under her breath before leaving my bathroom.

“Don’t forget your leggings!” I shout.

“I am!” she yells back before I hear the slam of her bedroom door.

“Oh my God,you’re so annoying,” Jenna complains as Trevor and I follow behind her from store to store. My parents sent them their Christmas money, and like the kids they are, they can’t save it. No, they have to come to the mall during the holiday season when it’s a complete and utter madhouse.

“How am I being annoying?” Trevor asks from a few feet behind her.

“You’re following me.”

“And? I’m looking out for my little sister. What if some crazy person comes up to you and tries to snatch you? I’d never forgive myself.”

“Mom,” Jenna groans. “Tell him to stop.”

“You should feel lucky to have a brother who cares about you this much.”

Trevor turns to me and gives me a wink. I know it’s not right, but sometimes Jenna is too easy to rile up. Without another word, Jenna turns into Pink by Victoria’s Secret, leaving us behind.

“You know she went in there, thinking you weren’t going to follow her.”

Trevor shrugs and takes an immediate right, following close behind his sister. “I’m right here,” he tells her. “Still here,” he says again after a few minutes. He continues, making Jenna throw daggers at him with her eyes. “If you need anything, sis…”

“Oh my God!” Jenna stomps off in another direction.

I can’t help but laugh as he wanders off after his sister. “Mom,” he says as he looks up from his phone before he pockets it, “is she supposed to be going over there?” He points in the direction where the college-age undergarments are replaced by thong underwear with sheer bras. A large screened wall is directly in front of us showing the latest trends in intimate wear.

“Don’t look so surprised, Trev. Your sister’s a young woman, and there’s going to be a point–”