You are beautiful.
I read the little purple post-it on the mirror as I wash my hands. I don't scrub, just let the water cascade down my skin, uncomfortably hot. I don't know why. It doesn't take long to read those four little words. Three little words... beautiful isn't a little word. Even after you finally learn how to spell it, beautiful is still confusing, a heavy cloud of expectation hanging in the air.
People hear my name, Gracie James, and they say, "oh, pretty. Adorable." I guess I like it when they say that. When all else fails, at least my name is pretty. Some people are lucky, just born extra special with a pretty name and a pretty face. Sadie Charles is one of those people, and she's what else is on my mind on tonight. My favorite actress is in town. I won't see her, but it's still a tingly cool feeling to know someone famous and wonderful is right here where we live for the day. Deirdre, the main character of Grey's Anatomy for Teachers, is like everything I dream of being. She's sweet, and smart with a sassy comeback for anything she doesn't like, yet making friends everywhere she goes. I could watch over and over again that first episode, where Deirdre hears another teacher, Cara, crying in the bathroom, so she picks the lock. They talk about how miserable love can be, but before you know it both are jumping up and down in excitement because they've decided to be roommates. It's Sadie who plays Deirdre, and she's one of those perfect people with sparkly eyes, baby smooth skin that's fair with perfect circle-freckles, and brown hair that isn't ugly because it glows gold in the light. The overwhelmingly white light of this bathroom only makes my hair like wet cement in contrast. People sometimes say my features are even pretty, round like a baby's, but I don't see it.
The quiet bubble of the bathroom bursts when the door swings open so fast it smacks against the wall.

A lady is rushing in, ranting to someone behind her, "You know what, I don't care. You are a freaking Hollywood makeup artist and only ever tell sexy women they aren't sexy enough! So I think you can suck this one up. Oh, and while we're at it, the next time you poke fun at Stephanie for spending forever in front of the mirror, you can remember all this crap you're giving me about a freaking zit!" The lady whirls around and slams the door, but I don't turn around even when I feel her coming up behind me. I would know that voice anywhere. Sadie.
Her steps echo across the bathroom as she comes up right behind me, and I can't bring myself to say anything. My tummy is so full of butterflies I can feel it floating up and getting ready to lift off. I think they call this star struck. And I think when your favorite celebrity magically appears before you, you're supposed to ask for their autograph, probably an autograph you've wanted for a long time, but again I suddenly cannot say anything.

Thankfully she talks first. Casually she says, "Hey. You have a Band-Aid? Preferably one of those with Cookie Monster on it?"
Oh, you have no idea what I would give right this moment for a Cookie Monster Band-Aid. "Um, here. Sorry, it's... just plain. I can - draw a Cookie Monster on it, if - if you want."

She laughs. "Don't apologize, hon, I'm sorta kidding. And." She looks at me so dead serious it's almost comical, pointing the way people would stab a fork warningly to make their silly friends at the lunch table listen up. "Nothing wrong with things that are plain."
"Yeah." It comes out only a breath. I step backwards until I'm touching the iciness of the deep purple wall tiles, a tiny sliver of stability. Sadie puts the hideous Band-Aid over her bloody zit. She's so pretty. So amazingly perfect. Having a giant zit and a makeup artist giving me crap about it would be the end of me.

And suddenly, she takes out a cotton swab and off comes her makeup. I hold my breath. She looks different. Like... my mom, and my friends' moms, and my teachers... I guess I mean like the adults I see in real life and not on Grey's Anatomy for Teachers. It takes a minute to get used to Sadie without shiny skin and blush and eyes that pop. It's always weird when someone looks different than how you've always known them, especially when different means... well, worse. Immediately I feel bad for thinking that. She doesn't look bad. For the first time, I'm seeing a TV star not looking impossibly pretty. It makes my heart race, it's so real. Wonderful because it isn't perfect.
I don't know why, but the fear of talking evades me for a minute. "I like that."

"Hmm?"
"Nothing." It's stupid. What was I thinking? You can't just tell your favorite actress you like it better when she looks like an actual person, can you?
Sadie sighs and puts down the cotton pad. "What's your name?"
"Grace."
"Grace. Look at you, what is this? You are hovering in that corner, keeping out of the way in awe like I'm a God or something. I know this because I've seen it before. It's what I don't like about being famous. I'm not perfect. I don't care what the TV tells you, I'm not perfect."
"But..." I trail off and shake my head, averting my gaze to the floor.
"Grace. Listen. Can I show you something?" Sadie turns back to the mirror. We look in at our faces next to each other, and I'm not completely sure why until Sadie says, "are we that different? Is there anything making me better than you?" I keep looking. I'm trying to make sense of this, figure out what she means.
"I want you to remember..." She puts her hands on my shoulders. "You are enough, Gracie. Take it from a movie star. I need you to remember this, looking in the mirror next to Sadie Charles without 400 pounds of makeup, and seeing how you are not any worse. Because I know you teenage girls these days better than you think. So promise me."
I feel like a waterfall that's been shut up inside a bottle but is finally free to roll down the rocks. And I smile, big. "I promise, Sadie."
"You have a beautiful smile, I think. It's true, what that post-it says. But you know what I think is more true? It doesn't truly matter whether you're beautiful or not. Sure, everyone is beautiful, but who cares. You're decent human beings. You don't need to be more."
I stare at the door after she leaves. The shushing of the heater whispers over the stalls, you and your crazy dreams, Gracie. But I didn't imagine it. I know because I look in the mirror. In the corner there's still that you are beautiful post-it note, and in the center, there I am. I notice my eyes. They would be prettier if they were blue. I wish my hair was straight.
Bore me. That's what the fiery Deirdre would say, and Sadie herself too. By a miraculous stroke of coincidence, I got to meet her. I got to meet a movie star, and it wasn't like TV where her perfect looks walk all over me. It was better than TV; she told me I was beautiful enough. Me and all my friends, enough just the way we are.
It will take a little while to get used to. But I know, I will keep my promise.