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She narrows her eyes, studying her work. “I think so. Let me just . . .”
She grabs a brush, and I close my eyes again while she works her magic.
“All right, that should do it,” she says and directs me to the bathroom across the hall.
I’m not sure what I was expecting when I looked in the mirror, but it sure wasn’t to look as epic as I do.
“Holy shit.”
My fingers hover over my face, but I don’t want to touch it and even dare to smudge a single thing. I look exactly like the Mad Hatter might look. Not quite like the Tim Burton character, and nothing like the Disney one. The character Jade has made is entirely her own creation. It’s straight from her imagination, and it’s magnificent. My face is white base, but not bright white; more of a subtle, skin-toned white. Like maybe I’m just really pale. There are sharp, red contour lines that go from my temples to my chin, blending out to give my face a pointy look. The eyeshadow is the most striking part: a gem-toned rainbow of color across both eyes. My lips are a bright pink, with orange highlights at the edges. I hover my fingers over my face, tempted to touch it and afraid to mess it up.
“Jade, this is . . .”
I see her reflection in the mirror. She’s leaning against the bathroom doorframe, admiring her work as much as I am. She’s beaming, and the pride on her face could warm an ice sculpture to melting. I feel lighter and taller knowing I got to help her do something she loves.
“Seriously, this is so fucking cool. You can do this anytime you want.”
“Be careful what you wish for.”
But I’d wish for another evening exactly like this.
Before I leave, Jade takes a few photos of the makeup and sends me back to my apartment with makeup wipes and instructions for removal.
My phone dings halfway through cleaning my face.
Jade:Thanks again for being my guinea pig. I’ll send you the video once it’s completed. I can tag you if you have social media.
She’s attached the photos she took, and somehow the makeup looks even cooler.
Me:The makeup is amazing, you’re crazy talented. No socials remember? I hate people.
Jade:I’m people
Me:You don’t count :P
Jade:Thank you?
Me:See you at rehearsal tomorrow.
Jade:It’ll be smashing, dahhhling *Anastasia accent*
It hits me as I dry my face off later that evening that I really am looking forward to rehearsal, or maybe I’m just excited to be spending more time with Jade. It feels like every time we see each other, something shifts between us.
A month ago, my anticipation was all anxiety, but now it’s the same kind of anticipation I get right before the lights go up for the first time during a show, when the whole theater is dark and the only people talking are those in your ears on the headset. It feels like the last moment of darkness before the beginning of something exciting, the held breath of waiting for whatever inevitable end approaches.
10
IAN
“Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!”Act III, Scene II
“I can’t believe she didn’t cancel rehearsal. She knows the theater party is tonight. And she’s going.”
“She shortened it,” I offer.
“Don’t defend her! You’re supposed to be on my side,” Jade says. She kicks her leg in my general direction, but I’m a safe distance away.
Jade is sprawled on the stage floor of the black box theater, where she’s been lying for the past fifteen minutes. We met up before rehearsal to run lines—something that comes way easier now that we’ve run them daily, multiple times a day, for a couple of weeks.
