Page 32 of Mayhem

“This will look sexy as fuck on you. Wear it.” I don’t leave her room for argument.

She changes quickly. We stand side by side in the crappy bathroom, staring in the mirror, studying our appearances.

“We look hot,” I tell her.

“I have an idea. Do you trust me?” she asks, a smile on her face.

“I don’t trust anyone, but I’d be willing to try out this idea of yours. It’s the least I can do since you’re going to a rave with me.”

“Good enough for me. Wait here.”

Minutes later, she comes back to the bathroom with a makeup case. She lowers the toilet lid, setting it on the counter before gesturing to the toilet lid.

“Sit down.”

She opens the makeup case and starts pulling out items.

“Where did you get all of this?” I ask.

“I get a stipend from the government. It’s like an advance on my social security. They pay the Randall’s for having me, but because I’m sixteen, I can ask for a monthly allowance that comes to me for personal stuff. I mean, I have to tell them what it’s for, but I have yet to be denied.”

“The government just gives you money?”

“Yep. I think my worker feels bad for me for losing both of my parents at once. She pushes through my requests without question.”

“I can see that. So makeup is like your thing?”

She chuckles. “I guess so. My mom always wore makeup.” She leans in and spreads some lotion-looking stuff on my face. “I remember when I was really little, I would sit on the counter like you are and watch her do her makeup. She would act like she was doing mine as well. Swipe a brush across my nose here. Run a closed eyeliner under my eye. I loved it. I never looked any different, but I felt it.”

She turns, grabbing another item.

“It sounds like you have a lot of wonderful memories with her.”

She smiles. “The best memories. My dad used to say we were two peas in a pod.”

She continues to brush different powders on my face.

I pretend not to notice her glassy eyes, uncomfortable with the uneasy feeling settling inside me.

“I’m sorry they aren’t here anymore.” My words are awkward, but I honestly don’t know what else to say.

“That’s kind of you. I choose to believe that they are in a better place and that it was their time to go. One day I’ll join them in Heaven.”

The idea of religion or a higher power has always been odd to me. Still, I can’t help myself from wondering how she believes in such when her life has been shit.

I clear my throat. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

She steps back, smiling at me. “Of course. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Are we?” I muse.

“Well, I’m doing your makeup and going to a rave with you. I’d say we are friends.”

“Well, okay then. How do you believe in Heaven when your life has been shitty since your parents died?”

She pauses with eyeliner in her hand in front of my face.

“It’s called faith for a reason, I suppose. The alternative is not believing in anything. Believing that once we die, it’s just over. That I will never see them again. I once had a good life. I choose to believe I will have that again.”

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