“Let’s not injure eyeballs,” John said in a loud voice. He considered staying downstairs just to make certain there would be no makeover-related injuries.

“We’re not,” the girls said in unison.

“What are you doing?” Kelly asked.

“I’m giving you a nighttime eye,” Becca said. “I’ve seen my mom do it all the time. It’s totally easy.”

“Hold still, Kelly!”

John cringed as he stood off to the side. For the love of god, Kelly, please stay still. When they were finished with her, she looked into a mirror and declared she needed a purple lipstick. The girls sifted through the loose makeup until someone found the closest shade, something call “Sinful Lilac.” John rolled his eyes. Kelly applied it...liberally, smacked her lips and examined her face again.

“Perfect,” she squealed. The other girls cheered and high-fived while Kelly took a selfie. Then the girl turned around and called out to John. “Mr. Donovan, what do you think?”

Four pairs of eyes zeroed in on him, daring him to say anything unfavorable. John raised a brow and rubbed a hand over his mouth before answering. “Kelly, you look...colorful.”

The girl flashed a beaming smile. “I know!”

“Omigod, you guys,” Becca said. John noticed how many of them started their declarations, observations, and questions with this phrase. “You know what we should do?” His niece leaned over to whisper in McKenna’s ear, causing the girl to giggle behind her hand.

“Omigod that would be hilarious!”

The children were still whispering to each other as John started to make his getaway. He just had to make the stairwell and he’d be home free.

“Oh, Uncle Johnny...” Becca called out in a singsong voice. His hand was on the banister. “We think you should have a makeover.”

John grimaced. “I don’t think I can pull it off with this beard,” he said with a low growl.

“We can decorate your beard,” said the helpful Devon, holding up a bag of flower barrettes.

“Omigod, you guys,” Kelly said. “We can paint his nails!”

He locked eyes with his niece, whose brown cheeks were red with laughter or rouge, and then at the mess in his home. Her dark brown eyes shined with joy instead of hurt and John was thankful for that. Tonight, she was with friends and not worried about bullies, her body, or her father. If this made her happy, John would man up and get his nails painted. He pulled away from the banister and marched to the scaffold. “No glitter polish!”