KissnTell

Chapter 8

BACK TO HELL

Anais

I wouldn't say I was ready to face my fellow Cranbrook students, but when Monday morning rolled around, I was resigned to it. The truth of the matter: this day wasn't much different from every other day. The stomach flips, the uncertainty, the wall of shame that kept me from really connecting with any of my classmates besides Vaughn—these were all regular elements of my everyday life. It's hard to explain but I could already sense that this makeover thing really changed me.

For one, it made me want to spend more time in front of the mirror. The second Raven ushered me out of the chair, I felt a magnetic pull, calling me back to my reflection. I was already fifteen minutes behind schedule, and I hadn't even started my makeup yet. I was fussing with my hair, smoothing out flyaways and fluffing it at the root. I had taken copious notes and compiled a list of steps for my face, starting with a primer and finishing it off with lip gloss and a spritz of lavender water. I executed the whole process with near-militaristic order and precision.

Vaughn, on the other hand, was wide awake and firing off hectic messages before dawn:

My hair's not right.

 

I look like a lesbian who looks like Justin Bieber.

 After Raven had transformed us, we'd piled into his Saab 93 convertible and headed west on Ventura toward Target, where we loaded up on budget supplies to maintain our new looks. Vaughn was pretty cocky in the store, flitting about the aisles, not giving Raven her full attention, and that morning, it seemed like she was choking.

WTF

Did I take home your eyeliner by mistake??

I look like a transvestite!

My mom dropped a bowl of Fruit Loops on my desk as I sat cross-legged on the carpet in front of the mirror, carefully applying blush to my cheeks. She crouched over my shoulder.

"Very nice!" she exclaimed. "You're a quick study." She squeezed my shoulder and kissed me on the head. I smiled lamely, grateful she didn't nag me for running late. When I finished my makeup, I grabbed my phone just as it vibrated for the nineteenth time that hour.

Vaughn was legitimately freaking out. I didn't necessarily blame her. Raven's expertise improved my confidence, but I was still nobody's fool. I knew no amount of makeup could distract from the shame and humiliation of Saturday night's events. In fact, a small part of me was concerned it could make it worse. The Shrew Crew wasn't the brightest bunch, but they could smell desperation a mile off. They'd see right through our flimsy makeovers to the squishy core of our insecurity, and they'd tear us to shreds.

My Blackberry blared again.

 SAY SOMETHING!!

I sighed, typing with one hand as I tossed some notebooks into my bag. You're gonna look gorgeous,I wrote, shoveling soggy Fruit Loops into my mouth. I tried to think of something else encouraging, but all I could come up with was:

But if I'm late for French, I will spit on you, compris?

I doubted she appreciated that, but it must have been a decent motivator because just as I approached the bus stop, I heard the sound of her flip-flops clapping furiously against the pavement behind me. She was panting like a dog, her shoulder bag flailing, her pleated uniform skirt flapping in the breeze, hurdling toward me desperately, but she looked incredible. Her face glowed and the new anti-bowl cut really made a difference.