Page 74 of Make Me Pretty
Each stall is filled with girls changing and touching up their hair and makeup. The chatter is loud, but the hum of it actually keeps it so I can’t spiral too hard because just as I start to sink in the vortex, Sierra bumps into me, knocking me into the reflective glass.
I shoot her a glare that has no heat as I tug on the hem of the short purple and white top that barely skims the high waist of the matching skirt. Ardent is written across my chest in white block letters with two downward triangular lines below.
“Here.” Something is shoved into my hand, and I grasp it before I even realize what it is. As I stare down at the pink, electric razor, I feel my cheeks bloom with warmth.
“What’s this for?” Stall doors slam shut, locks sliding into place. More bustle and chatter.
“You all have five minutes!” Ms. B calls from outside, garnering everyone’s attention.
Sierra’s eyes flash as she zips up her bag, eyes back on herself in the mirror. “It’s okay that it bothers you, and it’s okay if it doesn’t. Go—shave. Make it quick. You don’t wanna be late. Ms. B will be pissed.” With a kiss blown in the air, Sierra walks out of the bathroom, long, dark braids slapping against her back as she bobs her head.
Once she rounds the corner, my head drops to the razor in my hand with a small, albeit relieved smile. I’m not sure if Ipissed off or pleased some god to have inadvertently made a friend of Sierra Jones.
Plopping down on the toilet in the handicap stall, I lift my foot to the silver handrail and hit the power button. A low buzzing fills the rapidly emptying room as I bring it to the skin just above the canvas of my pink shoes.
Pink shoes I’mnotsupposed to be wearing, but in all honesty, I totally fucking forgot it was a requirement to get white shoes. So, I’m sure Ms. B will be pissed, but my feet are way too fucking big to fit into anyone’s extras—not that there are many of those, either.
Shoulders tensed to my stretched earlobes, I slowly drag the razor up my shin. A few hairs catch, making me hiss, but I surprisingly make quick work of it with every pass.
By the time I’ve finished both legs, all the way up to the spanks covering my ass beneath my skirt, I’m sure it’s been well over five minutes. When I stand, I rub my legs together, smiling brightly at the new sensation of bare skin.
My eyes fill with a burning sensation that quickly travels to my nose as I stare at myself in the mirror, feeling like a completely different person. No blonde hairs catch in the light, only naked,mostlysmooth skin. And when I lift my skirt, the scars on my thighs appear darker,newerwithout the occlusion of hair.
My lips twist into a smile reminiscent of the ones burned into my skin as I drag the tips of my fingers over them, up over the spandex of my spanks, and down when I fix the skirt back in place.
I blink through the tears on a deep breath I hold tight in my lungs, refusing to ruin my makeup. Leaning in, I smack my purple-painted lips, then smile brightly, loving the contrast of the color against my crooked, white teeth.
My eyeshadow is purple too but more subtle with just a few light strokes of powder to give color along with dark mascara. I told Sierra I thought glitter would be amazing, but I guess there are very strict rules about glitter during competitions. Something aboutslippingon it? I roll my eyes all over again. That shit doesn’t make sense but whatever.
“Abel, get your little ass out here!” Sierra’s voice echoes through the bathroom. I run my hands over my braids one last time, fixing a few wayward strands before running my fingers over the freshly shaved sides.
Today’s the day for change, it seems.
“It better fucking stop here,” I mutter to myself as I turn away from my reflection and grab my bag.
Sierra’s dark eyes are wide when I step out into the hall. “What part of five minutes did you not understand? Come on; let’s go.” She grabs my elbow and yanks me into a speed walk.
When we meet up in the hall with the rest of the squad, conversation bleeds into soft whispers and then nothing as we all face our coach, waiting for instruction. Her eyes rove over all of us, a small smile on her weathered face.
“You all look wonderful. Though, Abel, don’t think I didn’t clock the pink shoes.” Her subtle call-out makes me blush. My head drops between my shoulders as I toe the ground.
“Sorry, I forgot, and no extras fit me.”
“It’s okay for today. Just try to get some before the next game, all right?” I nod without looking up. “Excellent. How’s everyone feeling? Confident? Nervous?”
An array of responses flutter around, a mixed review but mostly just excitement. The squad is almost entirely made up of seniors, so it’s their last year of cheering before they’re off to college or whatever the fuck they plan to do after the illusion of high school ends.
As the chatter persists, I pull my phone out of my bag and swipe through the few notifications on my screen. I click on the texts from Elise with a smile that hurts.
Elise:
Hey, you! I’m so excited to see you cheer tonight! Look for me in the bleachers. I’ll be wearing purple (distinctive, I know) but I’ll be cheering the loudest for both my boys! Go Wolves! <3
Tears clog the back of my throat, and it’s not until a few drops splatter across my screen that I realize I’m crying. Sucking it back, I blink rapidly, keeping my head straight down so I don’t smear it as I wait for the last of the tears to drop.
With the sides of both index fingers, I run them along both lashes, clearing the wetness with another sniffle.For fucks sake, Elise. Why do you have to be so good?
Why do I have to be so rotten?
