Bulletproof Mascara: A Novel by Bethany Maines Page A

don’t want to talk about Arabs,” said Nell. “They make me angry.”
    “The political activist in Thailand,” Nikki began, remembering the day they’d watched the video. Nikki hadn’t immediately connected to the women in the film; it had seemed a bit like the instructors had needed the afternoon off and just popped in a video—it was the traditional method, after all. It had all seemed so very far away. And then like a burst of color in a black-and-white film, Nikki had been introduced to Lawan Chinnawat.
    “What’s he do?” Nell asked.
    “She,” corrected Nikki. “Lawan Chinnawat. She was born into a rural hill tribe, but she was kidnapped at age eight and sold to a brothel. But when she was fifteen she escaped, and ever since then she’s been working to end human trafficking and thesex trade. She runs her own foundation, which Carrie Mae contributes to.”
    “Huh,” said Nell, sounding totally disinterested, but Nikki wasn’t listening, she was remembering the overpowering emotion with which Lawan had talked about ending the suffering of the women forced to live in slavery and prostitution under a haze of drug addiction. Lawan didn’t give dry speeches about laws and policy—she made impassioned arguments against the cruelty of human nature and held out promises for the triumph of peace. She had made Nikki believe. None of the other girls had seemed quite as impressed as Nikki, but she couldn’t help wishing that she were more like Lawan.
    “She was amazing, Mom,” Nikki said. “She got an education, and instead of leaving Thailand or going to work at a nice cushy job, she began a grass-roots campaign to get tougher inspections on cargo ships, harsher sentences for slave traders, and a national database for missing persons. And she started a free health clinic in Bangkok. That’s the part that Carrie Mae helps with. They showed us a video of her picketing outside a brothel, and the bouncer came out and shoved her, but she just got up and stared him down. It was really cool.”
    “I hope they’re not sending you there!” said Nell, sounding annoyed.
    “I’m sure they’re not,” Nikki said. She meant to add that she couldn’t possibly be that lucky, but decided to keep that bit to herself. She would have given an arm to meet someone like Lawan, but she suspected that only the really good agents got to handle the high-profile cases.
    “Well, what else are they teaching you?” asked Nell, in a tone that sounded as if she were about as interested in the answer as a dog was interested in going to the vet.
    “Uh, you know, international survival skills,” said Nikki, searching for an appropriate answer, trying to remember something innocuous in the curriculum. “I think driving is next.”
    “Driving? You know how to drive. Why on earth would they need to teach you that?”
    “You know, in case I go to England. I’ll need to know how to drive on the left.”
    “I guess that makes sense,” Nell said, and Nikki looked at the phone in disbelief. She hadn’t thought her lying had improved that much. There was a tap on the glass of the phone booth, and Nikki looked up to see Heidi holding her watch up and pointing at it significantly.
    “OK, Mom, one of the other girls wants to use the phone, so I’d better go.”
    “She can wait,” said Nell firmly. “I want to tell you about work. You remember that old coot George Pembroke? Well, I had to go over to his office for . . .”
    Nikki looked up apologetically at Heidi, who rolled her eyes and walked out of view. With a sigh, Nikki settled in to listen to the ongoing tale of the crazy old coot, but realized that after tonight, she had a whole seven days before she would have to hear from her mother again. Yes, she was starting to like Carrie Mae very much.

CALIFORNIA VI
    First Gear, It’s All Right
    As their group walked across the parking lot toward the bus, Nikki’s face was plastered into an immovable grin. Behind her the Saugus