Take a Chill Pill - Assorted Be More Chill Stuff

DEH - Nail Polish

    "Hey, Connor."
    "What do you want, Kleinman?" Connor didn't even bother to turn around and glare at the boy. Jared grated on his nerves so much. And of course he did it all on purpose. He wanted a reaction. That's what they all said. That's what his therapist said. That's what Evan said. That's what Jared himself said. So Connor ground his teeth and seethed in silence.
    "Diggin' the mani, dude."
    "...What?" Connor finally turned, fighting his face into a blank mask.
    "Always knew you were the kind to rock nail polish. How much did you pay to get it done? Or did you swipe Zoe's girly things?" The fluorescent lights of the classroom shone on Jared's glasses. Connor's blood boiled at that smirk. Just his fucking luck he had to sit by Kleinman in this fucking math class. His eye twitched a bit.
    "Shut up."
    "You can't paint for shit, though. Look at this! It's all smudged and chipped!" Connor ripped his hand out of Jared's grip, burying his face in his textbook. His ears were warm with fury. He balled his hands into fists, refusing to look at the black polish splashed on his nails. Fucking Kleinman. He'd show him.

    The internet had tutorials for this kind of thing, right? Well, yes. But it was all pink glitter and expensive products and people who could actually paint. Connor sighed and slammed his laptop shut. He snatched a fistful of cash from the kitchen counter as he stormed out of the house.
    There was a drugstore a few blocks from the Murphy's house. Connor stalked in, paling when he saw the endless rows of cosmetics. So many brands, so many colors, so many different things. He sighed and pulled out his phone, dialing up the first video he saw. Something to make sense of the mess of products in front of him.
    He grimaced at the woman's all-too cheery tone. She was so damn happy. It made his skin itch. He almost gave up then and there, he couldn't do this. But then Kleinman's remark rang in his mind. You can't paint for shit. A dark smirk passed over Connor's face. There was no motivator like spite. He reached for the shelves.

    Sitting at his desk, Connor realized he really had no idea what he was doing. What was he thinking? He couldn't possibly get this right, especially not by Monday. So much for making Jared eat his words. But he was in too deep now to give up.
     The room already smelled like chemicals. Nail polish remover was a bitch. He'd spilled it everywhere. The fumes were probably making him high already, but he really didn't mind that. He picked up a little cardboard rectangle covered in sandpaper. All the tutorials said the first step was to actually get your nails in decent condition to paint them. Right. That mattered? Couldn't he just put on the stupid polish? No. Apparently not. He winced at the file grinding against the rough edges of his nails. The sound was like someone shredding paper. Constantly. Against the tips of his fingers.
     Getting rid of the hangnails was the worst. When he couldn't get at them with the clippers, Connor resorted to his teeth. Big mistake. The skin pulled out from under itself, stinging and leaving behind more blood than a knife wound, or so it seemed.
    Needless to say, there was a lot of cursing involved.
    Next, basecoat. Why was that a thing? Who knows? Connor didn't care. If it would get back at Kleinman, he'd do all of the stupid steps.

    In the end, it took him all weekend. An all-nighter, and redoing the whole thing about twenty times. But they were done. They actually looked nice. Not anything fancy, but the polish was shiny and smooth on every nail. There wasn't even any on his skin, thanks to some other stupidly small brushes and more nail polish remover.
    Jared didn't notice. No one did. Connor didn't care. By the time he was done, it had been his own sense of accomplishment. He walked with a smug air all week, moving his hands more daintily than he probably needed to. He was not going to take any chances after all that work.

    Skip ahead a few months, and Connor had mastered a few simple designs. Every few weeks, he had a new pattern on his fingertips. He even had a little social media page for them, though he'd never tell anyone. His ever-growing collection of polishes, brushes, stencils, and powders was accumulating in a box in the corner of his room--a dirty little secret that helped him keep a clear head when his mental illness acted up. It was meditative. No one had to care. Revenge could wait. Connor smiled to himself as he brushed a topcoat over his latest water marble, which he expected to be a hit on his Instagram and with Evan, who was super impressed by the whole thing. Of course, it helped that once Kleinman did notice, he was speechless for a straight week. Best week of Connor's life.