“Makeover?” Brittany said, wrinkling her nose. “Who said anything about a makeover?”
“Brooke did,” I replied. “You know, a B3.”
Tiffany joined her twin in giving me a blank look.
“You guys live for makeovers.” I stated the obvious. “It’s practically your middle name!”
“Silly Toby.” This was from Bubbles. As in, the girl who thought that puppies got to vote for homecoming queen. “A B3 isn’t a makeover. It’s a makeunder.”
“A makeunder?” April repeated the term. It was times like these that I was grateful that I wasn’t the only new member of the Squad.
“We need to blend.” Brooke elucidated the situation. “If we go out in groups of four looking like this, we’re going to attract a lot of attention, and since the TCIs aren’t supposedto even know we’re there, that’s not exactly a good thing the way it would be if we were planning to interact with them, but didn’t want to be seen as a threat.”
“A B3 makeunder is constructed with that goal in mind,” Tiffany said, her tone absolutely, deathly serious. “Although we can’t disguise our more striking features, we will be downplaying them. Some people call it ‘the natural look.’ We’ve spent a lot of time designing outfits and makeup/hair schema that will serve a dual purpose. To the casual observer, we’ll look average.”
Brittany took over where Tiffany left off. “But if we happen to run into anyone from school, we need to look nice enough that they won’t get suspicious. These outfits aren’t about being unfashionable; they’re about being subtle. The perfect B3 will allow its wearer to blend in, but on closer focus, she’ll stand out because of the ensemble’s simplicity.”
“A B3 says, ‘I’m pretty without trying to be,’” Tiffany continued. “It says, ‘I’m not wearing makeup,’ even though you will be. It says, ‘Don’t look at me, don’t remember me, but if you know me, be impressed with my effortlessness.’”
I think the twins might have gone on indefinitely if Brooke hadn’t sped them along. Instead, they multitasked, punctuating my makeunder with theoretical explanations I paid no attention to whatsoever. By the time they finished with me and moved on to the next person, I wasn’t sure what to expect. What was the logical result of spending a great deal of time and effort attempting to look natural?
A quick examination in the mirror revealed my answer. I didn’t look like the old me, but I wasn’t exactly Cheer Toby,either. I was a Neutrogena commercial, clean and cute. I didn’t look average, but I did look generic. Because of my height and the way the twins had styled my hair, I also looked about thirteen.
Makeunder complete.
CHAPTER 18
Code Word: Girl Talk
Brooke and I got ice cream at a shop down the street from the firm and then set up camp on a bench outside the shopping center. Along the way, we also stopped at a few stores, just for good measure, and our packages were spread out on the ground near our feet.
“So what now?” I asked Brooke.
She pulled her feet up and folded them gracefully under her body. “Now we talk.” She took in my skeptical look. “Trust me. It’s something girls do.”
So that was our cover. We weren’t cheerleaders. We were justgirls.I maneuvered to get myself comfortable, until I was sitting cross-legged on the bench, my ice cream balanced precariously on one knee. “And what do girls talk about?” I asked.
“Boys. Other girls. World domination.”
I was about eighty percent sure she was kidding on that last one, but this was Brooke, who dominated our high schoolworld with seemingly little effort, so I wasn’t willing to completely discount the possibility that she might be serious.
“Which other girls?” That one seemed the safest.
“Whichever ones are pissing us off.” Brooke didn’t sugarcoat it.
“And if no one is?”
Brooke rolled her eyes. “Then you’re lying.”
“Are you trying to say I’m an angry person?”
“Well, yes. But it wouldn’t matter if you weren’t. This is high school. Everybody’s mad at somebody.”
“So who are you mad at?” I asked.
Brooke shrugged. “Chloe for being a brat. Zee for analyzing what’s none of her business. You for almost getting blown up.”
“So, as girls, we’re supposed to sit here talking about how you don’t like me?”
