Part Three

I knew better than to try to directly convince Carmilla to change her make-up habits. I can still remember a few of the arguments she had with my Mom about whether or not she was going to wear a bra every time she left the house. Carmilla's philosophy was, "I'm going to be this firm and perky from here to eternity, Mom. I'm going to flaunt it now and then. Besides..." She adjusted her bosums so that she showed a little more cleavage. "They're great lures. The MCPs I usually aim them at are so fascinated that they don't know what bit them."

No, it wasn't going to do me any good to try to talk Carmilla into making up the mortal way. I was going to have to prove to her how much better she would look. I had a good idea of how to do that, but I was going to need supplies. She got most of her make-up from a theatrical supply place, and even if they stocked the usual sort of stuff I had no idea of how to contact them. They sold plenty of cosmetics at the local drug and department stores. But I never got to go to those places alone, and even if I was dense enough to contemplate what I was contemplating, I was smart enough to know that I wouldn't be able to buy stuff like lipstick and eyeshadow while I was with Mom or Dad--not without raising some real awkward questions. Besides that, they cost money. Sure, I knew kids who would have shoplifted the stuff in a heartbeat, but I'm not one of them. I may have sort of eaten a person or two, but I'm no thief.

I didn't know how I was going to get around the supply problem. Mom doesn't use much make-up--just a little powder and some subdued lipstick. She never has much on hand, she'd miss them, and I didn't want to think what I'd get if I used them all up. I was still trying to figure out what I was going to do when Tod invited me over to spend a Friday night at his house. I was happy with that--I figured I could enlist him, and with two of us working on the problem we were bound to come up with a solution.

Todd came over to my house after school, and I got my pajamas and stuff, then Mom drove us over to his house. She'd warned me ahead of time that she was going to just drop me off, then head home. She didn't want to have to speak to Mrs. Coombs too much. It wasn't that she didn't like her, but Mrs. Coombs had gone through a messy divorce, and, "Those people often are too, um, vehement in their wish for revenge on their departed spouse. If she should find out what I do, cheri, I doubt if we would hear the end of it. There are very few instances when I would consider offering lethal help, and a simple matter of cheating does not meet the requirements."

Tod helped me haul my stuff into the house. I'd brought a sleeping bag, a pillow, two changes of clothes (just in case, Mom had said), my Gameboy, a pile of comic books, and a bag of snacks. Mrs. Coombs was really good about feeding us when I stayed over, but, well... They did't have a dog, so if I wanted Milk Bone or Liv-a-Snaps, I had to bring my own. Tod knew what they were--he thought it was cool that I liked them. I told anyone else who noticed them that they were English cookies.

We dumped everything in Tod's room, and made our way into the kitchen. Mrs. Coombs was sitting at the table, drinking coffee. "Hey, baby. Hello, Chuck. If you boys want a snack there's fruit in the fridge, or Chips Ahoy in the jar." Tod and I exchanged looks, then headed for the cookie jar. She laughed. "Just be sure to tell your mother that I offered, Chuck. If you're going to drink anything with those, get milk--save the sodas for later."

We got the cookies and milk and sat at the table with her. While Tod told her about what had happened at school, I was trying to examine how she did her make-up. Finally she said, "Chuck, you usually aren't this quiet. Penny for your thoughts?" I immediately stuck out my hand. She laughed. "With your sense of humor you're either going to drive the girls crazy, or drive them away. I'll owe you. Now, what were you thinking about so seriously?"

"Mrs. Coombs, you aren't wearing too much make-up, are you?"

She looked surprised. "I'm not wearing any right now, Chuck. It's afternoon, and I haven't been out of the house today. If I was going out, I'd have put my face on, but there's hardly any point..." her voice was growing bitter, "since there's no one around to see it these days. Not that he ever noticed. I could come back from a day at the spa, with the full treatment, and he wouldn't notice till the bills came in."

I didn't have to ask who 'he' was--Mister Coombs. Tod was looking apprehensive. If his Mom got on a roll about his Dad, the sleep-over was going to be too tense to be much fun. I gave Mrs. Coombs what Carmilla calls my 'puppy dog eyes', and said, "I think you look real pretty without any make-up." She looked a little less ticked off. "Um... Mom said something once 'bout gelding a lily. I think that means trying to make something more pretty when it's already beautiful."

Now she looked pleased. "'Gelding' isn't an appropriate term for my ex, hon. Might have been if I'd gotten my hands on him right after I found out." She seemed to be in a good mood again. "What do you kids want for supper tonight: pizza, Hamburger Helper, or TV dinners?"

This was a serious proposition, so Tod and I discussed it while we finished out snack. I talked him into the Hamburger Helper. They never put enough meat on the pizzas, and Mrs. Coombs made her Hamburger Helper with double hamburger. Mom lets me have my meat bloody rare, but she's told me to be polite when I eat over at someone else's house, and not hint that anything is over cooked.

So that night we had Hamburger Helper Cheeseburger Macaroni. It was great. Mrs. Coombs didn't try to sneak green peppers in it, like my Mom does sometimes. Mom's always trying to get me to eat fruit and vegetables. I've argued before that wolves don't, wolves are carnivores, and Mom says if I had four legs and a tail all the time she'd agree with me.

Shawndee wasn't going to eat supper (she was always going on about how her butt was too big), but Mrs. Coombs said that if she thought she was going out without sitting down at the table like a normal human being she had another think coming. So she scowled and picked at a salad while her Mom spent most of the meal trying to get her to eat some kind of meat or starch, and Tod and I ate everything but the patterns on the plates. When we were finished Mrs. Coombs gave Shawndee permission to get ready to go out. And as she left the room Mrs. Coombs called after her that she'd better not be showing enough to get her thrown out of a church picnic, if she knew what was good for her.

Tod and I went into his room to read comic books for a little while. He always liked to read my comics, because I had some really old ones that Carmilla had collected when she was little. So, while I read his X Men, he read my Vault of Horror and Tales of Terror. After we'd read a few minutes I said, "Tod, your sister wears a lot of make-up, doesn't she?"

"Uh-huh. About a ton of it, I guess." He turned a page, then made a face. "Oo, ick! That's so cool."

"How does she fix it?"

"I dunno. She puts it on her face."

"But does she do it some special way?"

Now he looked at me. "Why would you want to know that?"

"I just wonder."

Tod thought, then said, "She's gonna be fixing her face to go out tonight. Maybe if we ask real nice she'll show us."

We went out into the hall and stopped outside a door that had a DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT! sign on it. Tod tapped on the door, and from inside Shawndee called, "What? I'm busy, here."

"Shawn, Chuck has something he wants to ask you," said Tod.

"Let him ask, then."

"It isn't polite to ask someone a question if you can't look them in the face," I said.

There was a short silence, then the door opened, and Shawndee looked out at us suspiciously. She glanced at Tod and said, "You mean to tell me that one of your brat friends has actually heard of manners?" She looked at me. "Bud, right?"

"Charlie, but most everyone calls me Chuck."

She grunted. "Gonna be a jock for sure. What do you want, kid? And if you're going to ask me about sex, go bug your parents."

"I just wanted to ask you about how you make-up your face." I peered at her. "You're not wearing any right now."

"Duh. I just got out of the shower. I can't wear the same make-up I had on at school out to a club--I'd look like a total dork."

"You're going to put it on now?"

"As soon as I put on my clothes." She was wearing a T-shirt and shorts, so I guess she meant as soon as she put on her good clothes. "I don't do my face till then, cause I don't want to risk smearing anything, or getting stuff on my clothes if I have to pull something on over my head."

Made sense to me. "Can I watch?"

Her expression stiffened. "You are not going to watch me dress. What are you--an early bloomer? You shouldn't be interested in girls for another six or seven years."

"No, I meant can I watch you put on your make-up?"

That surprised her. She stared at me. "What on earth for?"

"I just want to see how it's done."

She studied me, then smiled. "You couldn't possibly be gay at your age, could you?"

I don't think she believed I'd know what she was talking about, but Dad said that I needed to know what was what in the world, so I knew all about making babies and doing sex stuff just because you wanted to. I knew that mostly guys liked girls and girls liked guys, but sometimes guys liked each other, and so did girls. I didn't see anything wrong with that, so having Shawndee ask me that didn't bother me. "No, I don't think I am. I just wanna learn about make-up."

She pursed her lips. Finally she said, "I tell you what--you wait till I'm dressed, then agree to let me practice putting eyeliner on you, and I'll let you watch me put on my make-up."

"Okay."

She blinked. "Wearing eyeliner wouldn't bother you?"

I shrugged. "The last two boyfriends Carmilla brought home wore eyeliner, and I think one of 'em wore lipstick. They were pretty nice."

"You have an interesting family, kid. Just wait here for a couple of minutes."

She shut the door. Tod was watching me, and he said, "Did they really wear make-up?"

"Yeah. One of 'em wore fishnet hose and a corset, too. They were going to see the Rocky Horror Picture Show."

"Oh."

A little later Shawndee opened the door. "Okay, Brat Patrol, c'mon in."

I had expected her to be in a dress, but she was wearing blue jeans and a shirt that looked like one my Dad would wear. As she shut the door I said, "What kind of club are you going to? Carmilla doesn't dress like that when she goes to clubs."

"That's not really how she dresses," Tod piped up. "She has a thin shirt with almost nothing above her armpits under that, and she has an itty-bitty skirt in her purse. She'll change when she leaves the house."

Shawndee pointed at him, and her voice was hard, "Look, we still have a deal about this. I've already rented the horror movie for you. Just be sure that Mom is in bed before you plug it into the VCR, and be sure to put it back in the case when you're done, right?"

"Right." Tod gave me a pleased look. "Friday the 13th."

"Okay, as long as we're clear. Just remember, Tod-o: if you cross me, you have to LIVE with me. Come on in the bathroom."

We went into her little bathroom. Actually she and I went in--Tod stayed out in the bedroom, reading a comic. He wasn't really interested, and there wasn't much room in the bathroom. Shawndee got me to sit on the toilet, then took a tube and pulled out the handle with the little brush on the end. "Hold still, and close your eyes."

I closed my eyes, and she held my chin and started. I felt a damp tickle move across each eyelid, right above my lashes, then out a little at the corners of my eyes. "Hey, I got that pretty neatly. Okay, open your eyes and look up. Don't flinch." She did the same thing, but just under my lower eyelashes. Then she stood back and studied the effect. "Pretty good, if I do say so myself." I looked at myself in the mirror. Yep, I was wearing make-up, all right. It made my eyes look really big, and I had little tails streaking up at each corner. Sort of made me look more cat than wolf. She watched me as I examined myself. "Well?"

"Pretty neat." I looked at her expectantly.

She blinked. "You're a funny kid. I kinda hope I'm around when you hit puberty. Should be interesting."

She opened the bottom drawer in the cabinet under the sink and tossed the tube of eyeliner in it, then reached for the cosmetics she kept spread on the counter. "Aren't you going to use that one?"

"Hm? Oh, no. I use Midnight, and I grabbed Mink by accident. It'll do if there's ever an emergency. Now, watch, but don't bother me. I need to concentrate."

So I sat quietly and watched. Tod was kind of right. I don't think she used a ton--maybe just a few pounds. First she smoothed some liquid all over her face, then she started on her eyes. She used the eye liner, two colors of eye shadow (one of them sparkly), and mascara. She put on so much mascara and eye liner that I knew that if she cried, or got caught in a rain she'd get what Carmilla called 'the Rocky Raccoon effect'. Next she took a fluffy sort of brush and spent a long time brushing rouge on her cheeks. She kept turning her head and checking, and I guess she wasn't getting it as even as she wanted, because she kept adding more. She patted some powder on her face, telling me this was the fixative, that would keep things from smearing, and make everything look smooth. Finally she did her lips. She used a little brush like she had for the eye liner to outline them, then filled them in with a different color. Finally she got me to hand her a square of toilet tissue, and she carefully bit it. Well, she didn't really bite it--she just held it between her lips. When she took it out she showed it to me, saying, "There ya go, kid--your first open mouthed kiss." She reached over and rubbed my head, saying, "Yeah, I may have to come back home to check you out when you're a senior or something. Now, scoot so I can put the finishing touches on my hair."

"Okay. Thanks." I hopped off the toilet and went out into the bedroom to collect Tod. He wanted to show me a story in one of the comic books where some guy had dug himself out of the grave to come back for revenge for some reason or other. I didn't tell him that most zombies, the ones who weren't resurrected within a day of their death, were about as capable of independent thought as a can of beans.