Page 51 of Eat My Moon Dust
I pressed my lips together. Dr Ahlberg had warned us that some shilpakaari cosmetics were toxic for humans so we shouldn’t experiment with them. “Ah. Can I see?”
Reha shrugged, pushing her tendrils out of the way. Her forehead was indeed iridescent and lightly shiny in a cute way, the glitter disappearing into her tendrils.
“Ooo, I like it!” I smiled. “I totally see why you wanted to wear it. It’s super cool.”
The sad lines beneath Reha’s large orangey-pink eyes lifted. “Yeah?”
“Definitely. No way I could pull that off.” I sighed, leaning back on my elbows with theatrical remorse.
“I can give you some. I have enough to share,” she said.
“Aw man, I wish! Belladonna is no joke though. It’sreallytoxic to humans. So if there’s any in your glitter oil…” I ran my thumb across my neck with a funny face. “Lights out for a human.”
Reha blinked, sitting up a little straighter. Her tendrils shrank away from me in alarm. “Wait, really?”
“Oh yeah. Its nickname is Deadly Nightshade. That stuff’ll kill an adult human in, like, five minutes. Super nasty. But I hear it’s in a lot of shilpakaari makeup, oil waxes, desserts… Totally safe for you, so you don’t need to worry.”
“Why didn’t they tell me?!” Reha immediately reached into her school bag and pulled out a cleanser wipe. She scrubbed at her forehead like someone had drawn embarrassing doodles on her while she snored. My expression softened, taking a cleanser wipe from her pouch to help.
“I think they did,” I reminded her gently, tapping the linguitor behind my ear. “Belladonna means ‘beautiful lady.’ It probably got lost in translation.”
Shilpakaari didn’t cry like humans, but Reha’s mane keened, red glowing from the pink speckles on her cheeks.
“So what happened when they told you?”
Reha huffed, tilting her head so I could get between the tendrils on the other side of her face. “Nothing, I just told them no. I shouldn’t let my beauty go to waste by not learning how to use makeup now when I still don’t need it. I don’t have that long before I start, you know… having pheromone heats?”
Woah.I nodded slowly, trying to digest that information, and decided it was like a human girl starting her period. “Got it. Do you like practicing?”
Reha shrugged. “I guess so. Maan said it’s important, and I don’t hate it. I was pretty popular at school, and everyone asked me for tips.” Then she grimaced. “But the glitter oil itches my mane. It’s hard to concentrate on lessons sometimes.”
I laughed. “I used to wear glitter eyeshadow when I was little. It was theworst,but I thought it looked so cool.”
That surprised Reha. She glanced sideways at me as I wadded up all the cleanser wipes and wrapped them in a fresh one to throw away. I was pretty sure the oil was fine, but better safe than sorry.
“Does the beauty stuff get easier as you get older? It does suck sometimes. Adults look at me funny, and none of the boys care at all yet.”
Me, giving beauty advice?Sheesh.“I was a total ugly duckling. All stick limbs, straight hips, and mosquito bite boobs. So I have no idea. But now that I’m older?” I blew out a breath, trying to find the best way out of this labyrinth of core life advice. I didn’t exactly feel entitled to dole out wisdom to Hunar’s kids just because we were fake-real coiling. “It’s easier to recognize that there’s more than one definition of beautiful, you know? And someday, someone will see that in you too. Glitter oil or no. It won’t matter to them because they’ll love who you are.”
“I see…” Reha, always a deep thinker, processed what I’d said with a slow, purposeful twist of her tendrils. Feeling a little self-conscious about giving pre-teen advice, I got to my feet and stretched.
“But I can only say that from a human perspective, so take it with a grain of salt. Hey!” I winked conspiratorially. “You wanna help me with a mission?”
Miss Jeong gave me permission to take Reha out of school for the rest of the afternoon. We downloaded the drone software on her holotab, turned up the music, and shared playlists. She played a shilpakaari pop song for me, and I played holiday music for her. We talked about our crushes, and she burst into laughter when I tried to describe cute human boys from my middle school.
Admittedly, I did compare Sean Neely’s hair to broccoli.
We were draping twinkle lights around the clinic when Zufi stepped out, Ezraji escorting him to the end of the ramp. Both shilpakaari men smiled at us, their manes twisting over their shoulders in greeting. Reha did the same, but I clenched my jaw, hoping they couldn’t tell my smile was forced.
“Hi, Ezraji,” I called.
“Tinsley,” he said, dental ridges bright white against his dark teal skin.
“How’s Amelia?”
He gave me a serene bow of his head, hip-long tendrils marbled with light green scars swinging from behind his neck.
“Radiant! Amazing what the human body can do,” Zufi interjected.
