All That Glitters Read online

  Contents

  Chapter 1 Under Watermelon

  Chapter 2 Strawberry Sunday

  Chapter 3 Go for the Gold

  Chapter 4 Green with Envy

  Chapter 5 So Berry Blue

  Chapter 6 Orange You Pretty

  Chapter 7 Red-Hot Pepper

  Chapter 8 Silver Celebration

  Chapter 9 Teal Me the Truth

  Chapter 10 Power to the Sparkle

  How to Give Yourself (or a Friend!) a Rainbow Pedicure

  About Jill Santopolo

  For my niece, Lily Paige May. May your life be filled with love, happiness, and more than a little bit of sparkle.

  Special glittery thanks to Karen Nagel, editrix extraordinaire, as well as to Marianna Baer, Betsy Bird, Jessica Ann Carp, Andrea Cremer, Kekla Magoon, Marie Rutkoski, and Eliot Schrefer, all writers who glimmer and glow.

  one

  Under Watermelon

  The school bell rang, and Aly raced out the door, holding on tight to her backpack straps.

  “Slow down!” a hall monitor shouted after her, but Aly didn’t listen. She made it to the steps at the front of the school in record time.

  Her purple polka-dot watch said 3:07. Only eight minutes until Arnold the deliveryman arrived at her mom’s nail salon. Aly really wanted to be there to meet him. All the new sparkle colors were supposed to come that day, and Mom had promised that Aly and her sister, Brooke, could test them out the minute they arrived.

  Where was Brooke? It took exactly five minutes to walk to the nail salon, which was three and a half blocks from Auden Elementary. Now Aly’s watch said 3:08. That meant they’d have two minutes to spare, if Brooke came right away.

  Aly turned around, looking through the doorway into the school. When she squinted, she was pretty certain she saw Brooke, her long, braided ponytail swinging back and forth, skipping down the hall with three other third graders. This was not the time for skipping!

  “Brooke!” Aly yelled.

  Brooke looked up, broke away from the other skipping girls, and ran toward Aly. When she got to the door, she was out of breath. “The sparkles! I almost forgot!” she said. “They must’ve skipped right out of my head!”

  Aly loved her sister a lot, but Brooke was not the best at remembering. She was good at a lot of things, like (1) being a nail polish tester and (2) guessing which colors would be popular. But Aly was better at remembering. She was also better at making lists. Lots of lists. They helped keep all her thoughts organized. Brooke’s thoughts were hardly ever organized.

  “How many minutes do we have?” Brooke asked, pushing her glasses up to the top of her nose.

  Aly looked at her watch again. “Six!” she said. “Time for racewalking!”

  The two girls took off, walking their fastest, pumping their arms back and forth to get extra speed. There was a man in their town who was an expert racewalker and always wore pink shorts and a pink T-shirt the exact color of Ready Set Flamingo nail polish. Aly and Brooke called him Mr. Flamingo and liked to walk the speedy way he did when they were in a hurry. Elbows were involved.

  “Aly, did we end up ordering Cherry, Cherry Nice?” Brooke asked, panting a little as they racewalked past the pet store and the empty shop across from the salon that used to be the Candy Bar.

  Aly knew all the colors by heart. She’d helped Mom put in the order. “No Cherry, Cherry Nice,” she said. “We got Strawberry Sunday, Under Watermelon, Lemon Aid, Orange You Pretty, and We the Purple.”

  Brooke thought for a second. “I bet Lemon Aid will be the most popular.”

  “Lemon Aid?” Aly asked. True Colors was only a few doors down now. Aly could see the sign—light blue with pink and purple curlicue letters. It was 3:14. One minute until Arnold!

  “Yes,” Brooke said. “Lemon Aid. Yellow hasn’t been popular before. It needs a turn.”

  Now that she was a fifth grader, Aly knew that just because you hadn’t been popular before didn’t mean you’d ever get a turn. Suzy Davis, who was the meanest girl in her whole grade, had never been popular. She’d just been mean. Ever since kindergarten. But then again, yellow was a color, and colors couldn’t be mean, so maybe it was different with nail polish.

  The sisters reached the front door of True Colors at the exact same time Arnold did. He was holding a big box in his arms.

  “Hi, Arnold! Are the sparkles here?” Brooke asked. She was tugging on her braid, which she always did when she was extra excited. Or extra nervous. This time, the pulling was definitely for excitement.

  “Right here!” he said, bending over so Brooke could see the package. “Aly, can you sign for it, please?”

  Aly nodded. It was a job her mom had given her last year, once she was able to write her name perfectly in script.

  Arnold gave Aly his signing machine and a plastic thing that looked like a pen. She signed Alyssa Tanner on the screen in her most careful handwriting. Then he took back his machine and handed her the box.

  Brooke jumped up and down. “Can I hold it, Aly? Pleeeaassee!” she begged.

  “You know the rules,” Aly said. “Carrying boxes of nail polish is a fifth-grade-and-older job.”

  Brooke picked up her backpack, which was covered in twirly pictures she’d drawn on with old nail polish colors. “I know. But it was worth a try,” she said as she held the door open for her sister.

  Door opening was a third-grade job. Actually, it was a first-grade job, but it was one you could keep doing until you graduated from elementary school and turned a million years old. In the nail salon there were a lot of rules about what you could and couldn’t do based on how old you were.

  The bells on top of the door jingled as it closed behind Aly. Everyone in the salon turned to look. The place was packed—even the six waiting-for-a-manicure chairs near the front window were filled.

  “Hi, girls!” a few of the manicurists said.

  “I have cookies for you two,” said Joan, who was Aly and Brooke’s favorite manicurist. “Raisin chocolate chip.” Joan wanted to open her own bakery one day.

  “Hi, sweeties,” their mom said, looking up from manicure station number one. She carefully squeezed a rhinestone with a pair of tweezers, about to glue it on Miss Nina’s left pinkie nail. Miss Nina was one of the dog groomers at the pet store down the street and was a True Colors regular. She loved getting rhinestones on her pinkies.

  “We got the new sparkles,” Brooke announced as she raced toward a room at the back of the salon.

  “I signed for the package,” Aly added. She passed the row of five huge teal pedicure chairs—all filled—and walked around the ten manicure stations. Joan’s was number seven. All those stations were filled too.

  “That’s great!” their mom called after them. “Pretzels and juice are in the back. And if you’re still hungry after that, you can each have one of Joan’s cookies.”

  “Whoo-hoo!” Brooke yelled.

  The bell jingled again, and more people walked in. Aly couldn’t believe how busy the salon was.

  While Aly and Brooke munched on their pretzels—and Joan’s cookies—Brooke decided she wanted rainbow sparkle toes. One new color on each toe, starting with Strawberry Sunday on her big toe, followed by Orange You Pretty, Lemon Aid, We the Purple, and, on her baby toe, Under Watermelon.

  It wasn’t a regular rainbow, because there was no blue or green and it ended in pink, but Aly could see how it might look cool. Still, she wanted to double-check. It was always good to double-check, just in case people changed their minds. Especially when they made fast decisions, like Brooke.

  “Are you positively sure?” Aly asked. Whenever new colors arrived, Aly was usually the nail painter and Brooke was usually the tester. It worked well that way because Aly w
as a very careful painter and Brooke picked good combinations to try.

  “Certain,” Brooke answered. She left her napkin and cup on the table and ran over to one of the old pedicure chairs in the corner. The blue-green leather on the chairs was worn out in some places, so Mom had them moved to the back. Brooke hopped into the chair on the right and slipped off her sandals, and Aly got started.

  Aly had been practicing her polishing skills since she was in kindergarten. Brooke had been practicing too, but Aly was the expert. Aly had taught Brooke:

  • Keep the side of your hand resting on something steady for wobble-free polishing.

  • Wipe extra polish off on the side of the bottle before you paint a nail.

  • People’s feet are very ticklish.

  • Red polish stains white shorts.

  • So does purple.

  And Brooke had taught herself how to stay super still while she was getting her toes painted—even if Aly tickled her or dripped polish on her shorts.

  One by one, Aly applied the glittery colors. “They look so beautiful,” Brooke whispered. “I love the sparkles. They are so . . . so . . .”

  “Sparkly?” Aly said, and they both started laughing.

  Aly tucked her hair behind her ears. It had been cut too short to pull into a ponytail, perhaps not the best hairstyle for a manicurist. She kept worrying that it would fall in front of her eyes and that she’d paint Brooke’s skin instead of her nails. Maybe she should ask Mom to buy her some headbands.

  After she’d applied a second coat, Aly admired Brooke’s toes herself. She had to admit, the rainbow look was awesome, especially with the sparkles.

  “Let’s go see if there’s a spot at the drying station, Brookester.”

  Brooke stood up and hobbled on her heels, following Aly out of the back room and into the main salon.

  “I am the Princess of Sparkles,” Brooke announced. Brooke would say or do anything, Aly thought, to make people pay attention to her. Mostly Aly didn’t mind, but sometimes it could get annoying.

  “Come over here and show me your royal toes,” Mom said. She was by the door, helping Miss Nina get her car keys out of her bag so she wouldn’t smudge her new manicure.

  “Nice color choices, Brookie. And nice job, Aly.”

  “Maybe you could do my nails next week.” Miss Nina winked at Aly. “You’re just as good as your mom.”

  Aly smiled as Miss Nina left the salon. She was so ready to be a real manicurist, but Mom said she had to wait until she was eighteen. School had to be her main job until then. After that, she could paint nails. Or go to college. Or do both. Aly wasn’t sure what she would choose.

  “Do you like the rainbow?” Aly asked.

  “Very much,” said Mom.

  “What rainbow?”

  Aly looked up. Sitting on one of the chairs in the waiting area was Jenica Posner. The Jenica Posner—a sixth grader who was the very best soccer player on the girls’ team.

  And this was the first time she had ever spoken to Aly.

  two

  Strawberry Sunday

  Aly couldn’t answer. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She just stared at Jenica. But Brooke chattered away like Jenica was her very best friend.

  “There’s a rainbow of sparkle polish on my toes,” Brooke told her. Brooke wasn’t shy around anyone. Not even sixth graders. Not even Jenica Posner.

  Jenica got up and walked across the nail salon. “These are totally cool!” She kneeled down and inspected Brooke’s toes.

  “Can I get mine done like that, Nana?” she asked. Jenica turned her head toward a woman with a long white ponytail sitting at station number two.

  “If they have time for you, honey. You’ll have to ask,” the woman answered.

  Aly and Brooke’s mom flipped through the pages of the salon’s appointment book. She looked at the people in the waiting area. There were now more people waiting than there were chairs for them to sit on.

  “I’m so sorry, sweetie,” she said to Jenica, “but we’re all booked up. Maybe tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow I have a soccer game,” Jenica said. “Too bad.”

  Brooke looked at Aly. She winked once with her left eye, then twice with her right, trying to send a Secret Sister Eye Message. But Aly was having trouble understanding it. Finally, Brooke blurted out, “Aly, Mom! Aly could do it!”

  Aly felt a rush of excitement. But she knew the rules. Brooke must have forgotten. “I can’t,” Aly whispered to her sister. “Not till I’m eighteen.”

  But Jenica didn’t hear Aly’s whispers. “Could she?” Jenica asked Aly’s mom.

  Aly held her breath. What would Mom say?

  “Well . . .” Mom looked at the crowded shop and then at Aly. “Maybe just this once. As long as it’s okay with you, Aly. Same rules as when you do Brooke’s nails—no clippers, no cuticle cutters, just emery boards and polish.”

  “It’s okay with me,” Aly said as calmly as she could. But her stomach was flipping around like it was doing somersaults off a diving board.

  “This one’s on the house,” Aly heard her mom say to Jenica’s nana.

  Since all the pedicure chairs were full, Aly and Brooke took Jenica to the back room.

  “Brooke, please turn on the water at pedicure station one,” Aly said, pretending that she and Brooke gave pedicures every day. “Jenica, sit over there, please.”

  “Okay, but which is station one?” Brooke asked.

  Aly rolled her eyes. “You know . . . the left one.”

  Brooke turned on the faucet, and as the basin filled with water, Aly removed Jenica’s old—and very chipped—toenail polish.

  “Soccer’s rough on toenail polish,” Jenica said, flexing her big toes.

  “I know what you mean,” Aly answered, even though she really didn’t. Weren’t Jenica’s toes protected by cleats while she played soccer?

  “I think the water’s ready!” Brooke chirped, slipping under Aly’s arm to turn off the faucet. “Do you play soccer a lot? What about other sports? Do you play them, too?”

  “Just soccer,” Jenica said to Brooke. “Do I put my feet in now?”

  Aly nodded as she added a drop of special skin-softening oil to the water. “It should be nice and warm and feel—”

  “YIKES!” Jenica yelled. She yanked her feet out of the water. “That’s freezing! I can’t put my feet in there!”

  Aly dipped her hand in the water. It felt like the tub of melted ice that her dad stored drinks in at barbecues.

  “Brooke! Did you adjust the temperature?”

  Brooke shrugged. “I thought I did. Sorry!”

  Didn’t Brooke understand that this was Jenica Posner? And that they couldn’t mess up her pedicure?

  Aly let the water drain, adjusted the temperature, and refilled the basin.

  Finally, when Jenica’s feet were clean and dry—and warm!—Aly gripped the bottom of her foot, just like she held Brooke’s when she painted her toenails. But Jenica apparently hadn’t practiced sitting still the way Brooke had.

  She started laughing. “I’m really ticklish!” she said. “You can’t touch my foot like that!”

  Aly took a deep breath. She wasn’t sure how to fix this, and if Jenica kept laughing, there was no way this pedicure could ever happen. Even though she was still sort of annoyed at Brooke about the cold water, Aly looked at her sister and opened her eyes as wide as possible. Code for Help!

  “I know how you can stop feeling tickly,” Brooke said to Jenica. “It’s the trick I use when Aly paints my nails.” She paused for a second. “Bite on your tongue. Not so hard that it bleeds or anything, but just so you feel it. Then you think about your tongue and you don’t think about your feet being ticklish. And the tickle feeling goes away. Like magic.” Brooke smiled. “I came up with that myself.”

  Jenica looked horrified. “You want me to bite my tongue?”

  “Not hard,” Brooke said. “Just a little bit. I promise it works.”

  J
enica looked at Aly. Aly shrugged. “She never laughs when I polish her toes.”

  “This is weird,” Jenica said. “But I’ll try it.”

  Jenica bit down on her tongue, and slowly and carefully, Aly lifted Jenica’s foot and started painting her toes with two coats of rainbow-colored sparkles.

  After two toes were done, Jenica said, “You’re right, Brooke. It works—it doesn’t tickle anymore.” She held out her hand, and Brooke high-fived it.

  Aly was just thankful that the trick had worked as she concentrated on the job in front of her. She’d gotten two more nails done when her hair slipped in front of her right eye. Dumb haircut.

  “Did you just get that red on my actual toe?” Jenica asked, wiggling her foot.

  Aly rested the polish brush on the floor and tucked her hair back behind her ear. Then she looked down. Oops!

  “Sorry about that,” she said. She grabbed a little wooden stick, dipped it in polish remover, and wiped the polish off Jenica’s toe. “I think I need a headband to keep my hair back.”

  “You totally do,” Brooke said. Then she turned to Jenica. “She totally does.”

  Jenica pulled an elastic out of her own hair and handed it to Aly. “Why don’t you do a half-up with this? It’ll keep it out of your eyes.”

  Jenica Posner, the superstar sixth-grade soccer player, was giving Aly an elastic right off her own head? Aly couldn’t believe it, but she did what Jenica said, putting half of her hair up on top of her head.

  Then she took a deep breath and kept painting. This was more nerve-wracking than being in the district-wide spelling bee, and that had been one of the most nerve-wracking days of Aly’s life!

  “You’re actually good at this,” Jenica said as, stroke by stroke, Aly transformed Jenica’s toes into a sparkly rainbow. No more polish got on Jenica’s skin. Not even a drop. And thanks to Brooke’s tongue trick, Jenica didn’t laugh or wriggle anymore.

  “Aly’s not just regular good,” Brooke said, “she’s especially, fabulously good. She polishes my nails all the time. And sometimes, at home, she polishes my cousins’ nails, and once my grandma’s, and when we were little, she polished our stuffed animals’ nails, but she got in trouble for that.”