Cause she doesn’t like me.
I can see us being friends,
But she is definitely not into me like that.
Is there anything I can do to help?
Pray for me.
“Saylor Mae!” I hear Mom call up the stairs. Her voice pulls me right out of my overthinking and fawning.
“Yeah, Mom?”
She comes barreling into my room, hair done, full face of makeup. “Saylor!” she gasps.
“Mom.” I ease back on my bed, trying to get away from her intensity.
“Great news. I got you an ad deal.”
“For what?” I cringe.
“Fosters Healing Ointment,” she says as she lightly takes my chin in her hand. She tilts my face up to get a better look at the scrapes. I wince and try to pull away. “Stop it. It’s still pretty scratched up.”
“I know and it hurts. Can you let me go?” I ask.
“Yes. Sorry.”
“How many videos is it?”
“Just one. A before and after. You can say no, but it paaaaaays,” Mom says with a little shoulder shimmy. I know I can technically pass, but if it’s only one video and I get paid…I let out a deep sigh and give in.
“I’ll do it.”
“Great! I talked to your sisters today.”
“How are those little demons?”
“Loving camp. Switching places at least once a day even though I told them explicitly to cut that crap out.”
“They can’t.” I laugh. “It’s in their blood.”
“Ugh. Well, Dad will be home in a bit, and then after dinner, let’s shoot the before.”
“Tonight?” I don’t want to film tonight. I want to lay in my bed and be delusional about a reality where Heaven asks me to be her girlfriend in the middle of the museum, but Mom isn’t having it.
“Yeah, tonight. You can do your nightly skin care and then we’ll get it nice and fresh, and I’ll apply the ointment on camera. Every day we wait, it’ll heal more, and I want the before to be as bad as possible.”
“This is doing a lot for my self-esteem,” I say, glaring back at her. Mom takes her thumbs and tries to smooth out the angry creases in my forehead.
“Beautyandmoney are all about pain, my dear. Trust me.” Mom pats my knee and practically skips out of the room. She’s always a little perkier when she gets her way.
16
Heaven
It’s been hours and I’m still thinking about Saylor. The look on her face when we took that selfie with Miss Anita. How quickly she pulled that interview together and how good it was. How it felt to have her in my room and how it didn’t feel weird or awkward to share my art with her. The way she called me princess, and even though she was joking, it soundedcompletelydifferent coming from her. And I keep thinking about how I wish she’d stayed for dinner, how I wish she had kissed me on the cheek again. I haven’t had a sleepover with another girl since Girl Scouts, but I also find myself wondering what it would be like if she stayed over.
And then I remember we have a campout square in the bingo challenge. We’ll be sleeping in the backyard, but it’s still a sleepover, and then suddenly I’m nervous about the idea of lying in a sleeping bag next to Saylor.