Red ✔

Diva Girl

​“Is this really necessary, Holly?” I ask. Holly already applied lipstick, eye shadow, mascara and blush on my face. So far, I look hilariously diva-like. It is the only costume left my cousin has, since all my costumes are either too small or plain ugly.

“Yes, it is. You have to look like an 80’s diva, don’t you?” Holly says.

“Yes, mother,” I groan.

She straightens my hair with a comb. She lifts out the hair curler and plugs it in. She begins to curl my hair, but she almost burns my hair off.

“Ouch! Be careful!” I exclaim. “I don’t want to ruin my hair.”

“Relax, I am a professional,” she heartens.  At that, I get less edgy.  

Holly wants to be a makeup designer when she grows up or to own her own business in beauty spas or beauty parlors. Either way, she will rock at it because no one can do it better than her. She can even turn the ugliest girl in our school into the next top model. One day, on Picture Day, I am having a bad hair day and heat rash at the same time. My appearance is like some swamp monster from those movies. In other words, I look hideous.  Holly says, “Fashion Disaster.” She briskly bounded home and brought her beauty kit, packed with hair curlers of different sizes, dozens and dozens of makeup, accessories from butterfly clips to ankle bracelets, and beauty products with names that sounded like they come from Porto Rico. In twenty minutes, she turned the hideous monster I was to a darling. My skin was flawless with the foundation, my hair was wavy at the right sides, there is enough eyeliner that made my eyes stands out from everything else, and my lips were as plump. My friends hardly could recognize me. It was the best Picture Day ever. If only Tyler would have seen me then. Good thing we have Graduation this year; I can really show what I have.   ​

Although she is an expert, I cannot but jump every time the curling iron touches my hair. I jump.

“Scar, calm down,” she orders.

I take a deep breath. “Okay.”

I am very protective of my hair. I do not want to damage or ruin it any way. If it is, no one else will have my hair until the next generation. Maybe it will never come back. 

Holly finishes curling my hair. I peer into the mirror. My red hair is wild and poufy. Some locks are sticking out. I like they are trying to run from my skull. I really am like an 80’s diva.

Holly stretches a black scrunchie onto my curly hair. She leaves some tresses on my forehead. She hands my costume to me.

“Thanks,” I say, stunned by my new hairdo. I advance into one of the stalls. I pull into my red strapless cuffs top with a black belt, red and black outfits, fishnet leggings, a frilly black skirt, red high heel boots, and a black beaded necklace. I feel more exposed than necessary.

Then, I slip out of the stall and twirl around in my dangerous-looking costume. “What do you think?” I ask.

“Very sexy,” Holly says.

“More like stupid.” Victoria walks in. “What are you even supposed to be? A slut?” I wince at the word but I stay strong.

“What are you supposed to be—the devil?” I snap.

“I’m a witch, you idiot.”

“Yeah, I can see the resemblance.” I tap my chin. “You are just as ugly as you are outside as you are inside.” Holly bursts into giggles.

“Shut it, dork!” Victoria demands, sending daggers at Holly.

“Why don’t you shut it, witchy bitch?” I retort.