unique standards of beauty. I knew that much when I saw myself in a mirror.
“Wow...um…wow,” Ashley said as I approached her in the school lobby.
“Photo op!” Jessica skipped toward us and rested her cheek against mine. She held her camera at arm’s length, snapping a picture of the two of us. “I did all her makeup and picked out that dress,” she bragged to Ashley. “Doesn’t she look awesome?”
“No comment,” Ashley said. I pinched her arm. My mood was edging toward antagonistic, and the last thing I wanted was to be teased. Actually, make that the second last thing. The last thing I wanted was to be standing outside the school gym on a Friday evening, about to cross the threshold into the Annual Holiday Semi-Formal Dance. Dateless. With ten pounds of makeup on my face.
At least my dress didn’t scream “trying too hard”. I’d steered Jess away from the sequins and sparkles and she ended up finding me a cute little purple dress with spaghetti straps, marked down half price. Too bad the understated effect I was going for had to be tarnished by the over-the-top makeup job—foundation, powder, lipstick, eyeliner, eyebrow pencil, mascara, blush, eye shadow. I never wore eye shadow. Jessica promised it would make my green eyes pop, whatever that meant. It didn’t sound good to me. But I let it slide, like so many other things.
The walls of the gym were strewn with twinkling lights, spruce boughs, and wreaths. In the corner near the supply closet stood a tall, fully-decorated tree—for posing, I assumed. Jessica dragged Brent over there for another photo op while I stuck with Ashley and the other dateless girls. Being here, in the midst of all this holiday spirit, only succeeded in making me feel worse. I kept thinking of home, and how nice it would be to climb into a hot bath. And that’s probably what I would have ended up doing tonight if Jessica hadn’t sat me in a chair and changed me into someone else.
All week I’d been resigned to the fact that my attendance at this dance was expected, even mandatory. By Thursday, I was even kind of looking forward to it. When Jess suggested the four of us get ready at her house and then go together—they all had dates, but agreed to meet them at the school instead of being picked up so I wouldn’t have to tag along with a bunch of couples like some loser—I readily agreed even though I knew my usual lip-gloss/mascara combo wouldn’t be enough for her. And when she dove into her Bottomless Bag of Cosmetics, I surrendered like the coward I was and let her transform me.
And when Michael called my cell at six-thirty and the girls wouldn’t let me answer it because this was “girl time”, I gave in again, figuring I’d call him back once Jess tired of treating my face like her personal canvas. Which she finally did, a half hour or so later.
It was even my idea to take the picture, an image of me looking so unlike what Michael knew, and send it to him. But first, I wanted to call him back and tell him to check his phone right away, so I could hear his reaction before we left. So, giggling like fiends, we took a bunch of pictures and I sent him one of me, posing like a homecoming queen. Then I called him.
“Hello?”
I would have recognized this voice if I’d been eighty years old and deaf in one ear and part senile. It was tattooed on my brain, a part of my subconscious. Even worse, this time around it sounded sleepy, like she’d just woken up. In Michael’s room. On Michael’s bed.
I hung up the phone.
“No answer?” Jess asked.
“Nope,” I said, keeping my body turned toward the fish tank.
“I bet he’ll call you when he gets it,” Lia said as she brushed her hair again, even though it already shone like polished black onyx. “He’ll froth at the mouth when he sees how hot you look.”
I swallowed a few times and then turned around, making sure the ringer was turned off on my phone. “Let’s go.”
****
“Are those
“Wow...um…wow,” Ashley said as I approached her in the school lobby.
“Photo op!” Jessica skipped toward us and rested her cheek against mine. She held her camera at arm’s length, snapping a picture of the two of us. “I did all her makeup and picked out that dress,” she bragged to Ashley. “Doesn’t she look awesome?”
“No comment,” Ashley said. I pinched her arm. My mood was edging toward antagonistic, and the last thing I wanted was to be teased. Actually, make that the second last thing. The last thing I wanted was to be standing outside the school gym on a Friday evening, about to cross the threshold into the Annual Holiday Semi-Formal Dance. Dateless. With ten pounds of makeup on my face.
At least my dress didn’t scream “trying too hard”. I’d steered Jess away from the sequins and sparkles and she ended up finding me a cute little purple dress with spaghetti straps, marked down half price. Too bad the understated effect I was going for had to be tarnished by the over-the-top makeup job—foundation, powder, lipstick, eyeliner, eyebrow pencil, mascara, blush, eye shadow. I never wore eye shadow. Jessica promised it would make my green eyes pop, whatever that meant. It didn’t sound good to me. But I let it slide, like so many other things.
The walls of the gym were strewn with twinkling lights, spruce boughs, and wreaths. In the corner near the supply closet stood a tall, fully-decorated tree—for posing, I assumed. Jessica dragged Brent over there for another photo op while I stuck with Ashley and the other dateless girls. Being here, in the midst of all this holiday spirit, only succeeded in making me feel worse. I kept thinking of home, and how nice it would be to climb into a hot bath. And that’s probably what I would have ended up doing tonight if Jessica hadn’t sat me in a chair and changed me into someone else.
All week I’d been resigned to the fact that my attendance at this dance was expected, even mandatory. By Thursday, I was even kind of looking forward to it. When Jess suggested the four of us get ready at her house and then go together—they all had dates, but agreed to meet them at the school instead of being picked up so I wouldn’t have to tag along with a bunch of couples like some loser—I readily agreed even though I knew my usual lip-gloss/mascara combo wouldn’t be enough for her. And when she dove into her Bottomless Bag of Cosmetics, I surrendered like the coward I was and let her transform me.
And when Michael called my cell at six-thirty and the girls wouldn’t let me answer it because this was “girl time”, I gave in again, figuring I’d call him back once Jess tired of treating my face like her personal canvas. Which she finally did, a half hour or so later.
It was even my idea to take the picture, an image of me looking so unlike what Michael knew, and send it to him. But first, I wanted to call him back and tell him to check his phone right away, so I could hear his reaction before we left. So, giggling like fiends, we took a bunch of pictures and I sent him one of me, posing like a homecoming queen. Then I called him.
“Hello?”
I would have recognized this voice if I’d been eighty years old and deaf in one ear and part senile. It was tattooed on my brain, a part of my subconscious. Even worse, this time around it sounded sleepy, like she’d just woken up. In Michael’s room. On Michael’s bed.
I hung up the phone.
“No answer?” Jess asked.
“Nope,” I said, keeping my body turned toward the fish tank.
“I bet he’ll call you when he gets it,” Lia said as she brushed her hair again, even though it already shone like polished black onyx. “He’ll froth at the mouth when he sees how hot you look.”
I swallowed a few times and then turned around, making sure the ringer was turned off on my phone. “Let’s go.”
****
“Are those
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