and looked in the mirror on the living room wall. âI hope this business with Grandpa isnât going to make me lose my hair.â
Rosie observed her mother, who had been moping about Grandpa for days. âIt doesnât look any thinner.â Even if it had, Rosie wouldnât have told her. Why make her feel worse, anyway? When Grandma had died, and her parents were getting divorced, her motherâs hair started falling out in clumps. The doctor had told her it was stress-related, and it freaked her mother out. His wife, the receptionist, recommended taking yoga.
âDo your mantra,â Rosie told her mother.
âIâve lost it somewhere.â Mrs. Goldglitt shook her head. âCan you imagine? Iâve lost my mantra.â
âI think you lost it when you started seeing Sam,â said Rosie.
âCould be,â said her mother, breaking into a smile.
Her motherâs mantra had been written down on an index card by her spiritual adviser. Rosie remembered hearing her chant it through the bedroom wall, something like âOmbody ohbody almighty umbody,â over and over.
Rosie had found the card one day when she was borrowing a necklace from her motherâs bureau. She tried reading it aloud, but her mother came running and snatched it out of her hand. â Donât do that! Itâs my own private mantra. If anyone else repeats it, it loses its power!â
Rosie turned away from Faith Hill and her mother. âAre we done?â she said, and her mother nodded.
It was time to invent a mantra for herself. Rosie sat on her bed and began chanting, âI am cute I am cute Robbie thinks so I am cute I am cute I am cute I believe that I am cute.â She looked in the mirror and repeated it. Her face was shining. She smiled at herself. She chanted once more. Her eyes were glowing. Maybe the mantra was working.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
On Saturday, Lauren, Summer, Sarah, and Rosie hung out together. They had their own routine, walking to the local drugstore, which had a lot of cool jewelry and a ton of makeup. Afterward, they would eat a slice of pizza at Salâs next door. Rosie suggested they try the new ice cream shop, and the girls nodded knowingly.
Summer found a lip gloss she liked right away. She bought two of them, which made Rosie feel jealous. Summer never had to worry about money, and often bought doubles: two T-shirts in different colors, two pairs of pants, two bracelets. Summerâs mother let her wear lipstick, mascara, and blush. Rosieâs mother only allowed colorless lip gloss. âI might as well be wearing Vaseline,â Rosie protested, knowing that back in the Vaseline ages, her mother had worn exactly that. Summer convinced Lauren to buy a cool-looking Mocha Peony. She painted a line of Cherry Malt on her wrist, saying, âThis one has your name on it, Rosie.â
Rosie smeared a dab of it on her own hand. It was pale pink with a wisp of mocha and cream. It looked good enough to eat.
âI think you can get away with that one,â said Summer. âYour mother wonât mind.â
âRobbie will think youâre even cuter,â whispered Lauren, in case someone was lurking nearby who shouldnât hear.
Rosie appreciated Laurenâs good sense. Her mantra drifted through her head: I am cute I am cute Robbie thinks so I am cute I am cute I am cute I believe that I am cute. She bought it immediately.
âLetâs help Sarah now,â said Summer.
âItâs hopeless,â said Sarah. âMy mother only wants me to wear natural products. Sheâs afraid these were tested on dogs or something.â
âIâve never seen a dog wearing lipstick,â said Summer.
âRuff ruff,â said Lauren. âThat means, letâs eat!â
There was something about hooting hysterically in public that made the girls feel happy and popular. They did just that, and left the shop with their