Tell Me by Joan Bauer

that.
    Taylor shakes her head at me.
    And that means what?
    A nail lady in a pink Star Nails shirt examines my hands. She rubs them.
    â€œSoft,” she says.
    â€œThank you.”
    My nails are supershort and jagged.
    â€œBite?” she asks.
    â€œI’m sorry?”
    She touches my nails. “You bite?”
    â€œOh, yes, sometimes. It’s a bad habit.”
    â€œNo bite,” she says. “Pretty.”
    She rubs stuff on my nails. I can hear Taylor say, “So where are you from?”
    â€œVietnam,” her nail person answers.
    I don’t know what to say to my lady.
    Seen any girls with baby animal eyes lately?
    â€œWow,” Taylor is saying, “I’ve always wanted to visit your country. How long have you been here?”
    The woman looks nervously at the man, who comes over. “Girls come to be Americans.” He points to an American flag above the cash register. “Very proud.”
    I gulp. My brain goes to the PROUD TO BE AN AMERICAN sticker on the van.
    I don’t look at Taylor or Mim or anyone.
    â€œRelax hand,” my nail lady says.
    â€œI’m sorry.”
    â€œI love Vietnamese food.” That’s Taylor. “Totally love it.”
    â€œYou like?” her lady asks.
    â€œThe sandwiches, the spring rolls. To die for.”
    â€œNo die.” The man laughs. “Happy!”
    The women look up smiling and look back down. The man claps his hands. “Happy!”
    I try to memorize every corner of this salon, every face.
    â€œRelax hand,” my nail lady says.
    â€œSorry.”
    â€œI drive here every week from Colton,” a woman tells Mim. “Best manicure around.”
    The man smiles at her. “Good customer!”
    Sure is happy here, although it doesn’t seem real.
    â€œI’m here from San Francisco,” Taylor lies. “Have you been there?”
    Her nail lady shrugs and looks down.
    My nails are looking good—smooth and even. The lady gives me a hand massage and I feel my muscles relax a little.
    â€œTight,” she says, rubbing my thumbs.
    â€œI guess.”
    More customers come in. Every seat is taken.
    The lady paints my nails with Whisper Pink. I love it. She’s so careful, like an artist painting. She puts on another coat.
    â€œYou star now,” she says.
    â€œThank you.”
    â€œHappy!” The man claps.
    I put my hands under the dryer. Another lady comes over and gives me a magazine.
    â€œThank you.”
    â€œNice,” she says.
    I look at her. She has the biggest eyes. Really huge eyes.
    â€œNice,” she says again.
    I look down at the magazine, it’s open to a page with pictures of shoes that have such high heels, they look like they’d kill a person.
    â€œThank you,” I tell her.
    There’s nothing happening here that I can see.
    Nothing that points to this girl.
    The nail lady with the big eyes is watching me.
    I just want to leave, okay?
    We don’t exactly have a signal for that!
    Taylor and Mim aren’t paying attention to me. Mim is talking to the woman next to her like she has all the time in the world. Taylor is lying away: “Yes, I have a career on the stage, but I try to be balanced. I can’t say yes to everything.”
    â€œHappy!”
    I don’t think so!

Seventeen
    â€œShhhh.” Taylor holds up her hand as we walk across the street from Star Nails. “Appear normal.”
    â€œYou’re talking about a life on the stage and living in San Francisco!”
    Mim points to Mabel’s Cafe.
    â€œAnd what about that happy guy?” I whisper. “And the way all the nail ladies looked up and smiled when he said it and looked back down?”
    â€œShhh.”
    â€œI’m way past that!”
    My phone rings. It’s Mom.
    Big Bad Timing.
    Appear normal.
    I don’t want to go home.
    â€œHi, Mom,” I chirp.
    Taylor turns around and mouths,
Be careful.
    â€œWhat am I doing?