Read Online Romance of the Snob Squad by Julie Anne Peters - Free Book Online Page B

jewelry. Even though none of the outfits would fit, there was enough chiffon to wrap around my bulk several times.
    A knock sounded on the door. “Get that, Jenny,” Lydia said. A row of bobby pins fell out of her mouth.
    I hopped across the room and opened the door. Lydia’s mom asked, “How’s it going in here?”
    “Good,” I answered.
    She glanced at my getup and smiled. “Can I help with makeup or anything?”
    I twisted my head toward Lydia. She’d teased Prairie’s hair into a giant haystack and stuck a peacock headdress on top. It looked like there’d been a barnyard brawl, and the rooster lost. “Uh, maybe—”
    “No,” Lydia cut me off. “We’re fine.” She met Prairie’s panicked eyes in the mirror and added, “Well, maybe, if you’re not too busy. I guess I could use a little help with the hair.”
    “You know I’m never too busy for you.” Lydia’s mom frowned at her. “Or your friends.”
    Lydia gave me a look like “Puh-leaze.”
    Dr. Beals padded in barefoot and took the brush from Lydia. We watched as she styled Prairie’s hair into a big bouffant and curled her bangs with a curling iron. Obviously she’d had a lot of practice with that look. As Lydia’s mom fitted the headdress in place, Prairie said in a sigh, “It m-must be fun being a Las V-Vegas showgirl.”
    “Not really,” Lydia’s mom said. “It’s too much work for too little money. And the hours stink.” She told us how she worked all night, then studied for college until three or four A.M. Afterward she slept for a couple of hours, then got up to practice for a new show or prepare for the next performance. “What a life.” She shook her head. “I don’t miss it.”
    Behind her, Lydia faked violin playing.
    Prairie sighed again. “I’d like to t-try it.”
    “Me, too,” I said.
    “Yeah, right.” Lydia rolled her eyes.
    Her mother whirled and shot Lydia a dirty look. “Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Goethe,” she quoted.
    “You go, girl. Oprah,” I quoted back.
    She laughed. And I didn’t even have to explain the joke, like I did with Dr. Sid sometimes. A thought struck me. I wished Lydia’s mom was my therapist. I bet she could solve my problem.
    “There we go,” she said to Prairie. “What do you think?” With a final flourish, she brushed blusher across Prairie’s cheekbones and stepped back. Prairie gazed into the mirror. She licked her pink lemonade lips and smiled. “G-gosh” was all she could say.
    “Prairie, you’re beautiful,” Lydia said. “Hugh won’t know what hit him.”
    That perked Max up. “Hit who?”
    Lydia’s mom said, “Okay, who’s next?”
    We scrabbled to get in line. Even Max, although what she wanted wasn’t exactly your classic glamour makeover. A few minutes later, smiling through black lipstick and electrified frizz, Max spun on the vanity seat and pronounced, “Shazam.”
    “Scary,” I mumbled.
    Lydia was made up to resemble a Japanese geisha girl, in a silk kimono with her hair wound in a bun. Two glittery silver chopsticks stuck out each side of the bun.
    Dr. Beals suggested I play an Arabian harem girl. With all that chiffon, it was perfect. She gelled my hair in waxy waves all over my head and outlined my lips with ruby red lipstick. Thick eyeliner and thicker mascara made me look like the Queen of Sheba, whatever she looks like.
    “Let me take the pictures,” Max said. “My brother taught me how to use a camera.”
    Prairie didn’t have a problem with that. She retrieved the camera and film from her backpack and handed them to Max. While Max loaded the film, Lydia said, “We need a backdrop. A chair against the wall or something.”
    “I know.” Lydia’s mom snapped her fingers. “Follow me.”
    She led us to her bedroom and a comfy overstuffed armchair. At least it would’ve been comfy if there hadn’t been a ton of trashy romance novels on top of it. Stacking the books on