Courage

Chapter Eleven

[Francesca]

"I look like Hilary Banks," Maya grumbled, looking at herself in the mirror.

Today, we decided to dress each other for the fair. Yesterday I even got my acrylics reshaped so that they were square round like Maya's, and her nails were now coffin shaped the way mine were.

I put her in a lemon bouclé cropped jacket and a matching mini skirt.

"What have you dressed me in?" she asked.

I took a seat on the white sofa. "Chanel Spring 1995," I smiled smugly. "You don't like your outfit?"

"I like the outfit, I just don't like how it looks on me."

"What do you mean?" She looked fine to me, better than fine.

"Some people, like you, can pull this outfit off. But me, well, I can't. My figure is all wrong and—"

"Maya." I stood up to put my hands on her shoulders. "You look amazing, beyond amazing, in this outfit, and everything you wear. Say you look amazing."

She looked at me. "You look amazing." I tightened my grasp on her shoulders and stared her dead in the face. She cleared her throat. "I look amazing," she muttered, and I loosened my grip. "Now it's your turn."

I donned in the the high-waisted jeans, white t-shirt,  and grey flannel Maya gave me.

"It's not me, but, I like it," I admitted.

"Really? I thought you'd be mad at me." It kind of offended me that Maya thought that I would throw a tantrum over clothes. Seriously, does she really think that less of me?
~
Maya and I had just gotten off the carousel when I spotted Delilah with some boy. I pulled Maya by her arm to hide behind a tent.

"So aggressive sometimes," she mumbled. "Ohh, I see. How did you meet Delilah, anyway?"

"I've known her since I was four. Her mother Fiona used to serve drinks at the soirées my father used to host in Manhattan. And sometimes she'd bring Delilah to play with my siblings and I since we were the only children there." Back then, my siblings and I were always together so we were kind of bored with each other when it came to talking and playing. "Then Delilah started serving at the soirées as well, as she got older, of course. And as I got older, I developed a crush."

I could feel Maya staring at me over my shoulder.

"That sweet, actually. Childhood friends to lovers . . . and then exes."

The boy whispered something in Delilah's ear that made her laugh.

"Um, Fran?" Maya said.

"Maya?"

"You're, um, staring and it's getting creepy. Do you miss Delilah?"

"I mean, I kind of miss hearing her English accent, I guess."

"Well, maybe you should go talk to her, get her back, if the boy isn't her boyfriend," she suggested. "And maybe—"

I was already stalking toward Delilah, not letting Maya finish.

"Hi, Delilah," I said, not paying attention to the boy.

"Hey, Fran," she returned.

"What are you doing here in PA?" I asked.