Grapes Upside Down

22. Mango Pisco

~Madisen~

"Let's go, hos!" Clara bellows from the bathroom as she applies the final swipe of mascara to her already thickly caked lashes.

Her petite boobs are pushed up all cute in the laced halter she borrowed from Evie. I'm a little freaked out by how skinny she looks in this outfit, but I push the thought from my mind as I ready myself for tonight's shenanigans. I make a mental note to check in with her on the bus ride back from Pucón.

"Don't you all love how Madisen still manages to look classy even dressed as a prostitute?" Lana comments, surveying me in the mirror as she appears in the bathroom doorway. I allowed Daniela to apply far more makeup than I normally wear; the dark layer of eyeliner draws out the tones of my light brown eyes, a sunset orange shade of lipstick glowing the same color as my freshly washed hair.

"Damn, Madisen, tu pelo!" Daniela croons as I emerge from the hallway. "Eres princesa, no prostituta." She runs a finger through the waves of my hair as if savoring the texture. I've got it pulled up at the sides and wrapped into a simple twist, the rest hanging loose.

Evie prances behind each one of us with a tiny bottle, shaking glitter onto our hair. I'm slightly mortified by the amount of excess glitter littering the hardwood floor of the bungalow. She reminds me of my little sister Eliana flinging paints and glues and glitters onto her artistic masterpieces, with no regard for the mess accumulating around her.

Daria, dressed in a simple black cami with tight jeans and her hair pulled into a side pony tail, puts up an authoritative hand to stop Evie from sprinkling her with hot pink glitter.

"Nu-uh."

"¡Yapo! Para verte más ho."

Evie's statement translates roughly to: "Come on! So that you look more ho." I burst into cackles, covering my mouth to subdue them, which only causes me to snort like a very ill hog sneezing. Clara and I have already downed one large shot of the mango pisco we bought at the market on our walk back from retrieving my cell phone from the garbage, and the alcohol has hit me right in the giggle reflex.

"Since when to whores douse themselves with glitter?" Daria edges out, humor underneath her dry indignance.

For whatever reason, Samira suggested on the Discord chat that tonight's party should include a costume theme, improvised from whatever clothing articles we're able to scrounge up from our weekend suitcases. Armani and the boys responded quite enthusiastically to her suggestion.

Now, here we all are, dressed as hos. Jonie has loaned me a very risqué dress, which rides high up my thighs and dips dangerously low around my cleavage. She also gave me a bra that shoves my breasts together; I feel like one of the viscountesses of Bridgerton.

Rather than the typical swampy sensation of dread at the anticipated ogling that awaits me when we arrive at the party, a fiery flame lights in my abdomen, imagining the look on Noah's face when he sees me.

I hope I'm his diamond, I think with a giggly eye roll, imagining him as Bridgerton's Queen Charlotte surveying me with a haughty sneer of approval.

We make our way en masse across the courtyard to the bungalow where Armani, Noah, Raymond and Mark are staying. Jonie emits a series of gasps and shrieks as she wobbles every few steps in her ridiculously high heels, her feet slip-sliding as if coated in oil.

Reaching the guys' place, Daniela pounds her fist against the door. Her makeup is hilarious—dark red eye shadow stretching to the edges of her eyebrows and maroon lipstick contrasting with her smooth, dark mocha skin.

"Stop fidgeting with your dress!" Daniela scolds me in her raspy, harsh but loving mom voice. "You're supposed to look like a whore, remember?"

"Okay!" I reply in obedience. "But I don't want the entirety of my butt cheeks exposed." I tug the dress down one more time.