Fairy Floss » Laurinah

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Fairy Floss can be defined in two ways; a sugary treat made and packaged by the tooth fairy to assist in the easy and painless removal of children's teeth for harvesting, or a form of machine spun sugar invented by dentist William Morrison and confectioner John C. Wharton in 1897.

Unfortunately, the big bright booth at Countess Hughes, pertained to the latter.

I had been craving some cotton candy ever since my best friend Camila pointed out a lady with an assortment of bags over her shoulder. And now, we couldn't help but ogle at the booth with the words 'fairy floss' in bright on yellow plywood.

"How tacky is that, they couldn't afford an actual sign?" My best friend berated from next to me, rolling her eyes so much that I'm sure they stuck to the back of her head.

Camila's lips were molded into a pink, small pout, and at the sight of the sugar, the corners of them turned upwards. She slapped my arm harshly. From the looks of it, her eyes were as wide as saucers.

"Cheechee, look, they got the purple kind too."

I nodded, skidding the sole of my shoe deeper into the dirt. "I know."

Everything looked like a blur more than anything without my glasses on. My mother was constantly nagging me to wear them but I hate the way they make me feel. It's like I'm always conscious of them on me, so I try to push them up my nose as far as I can so I can't see the actual frames. You know?

"You should get the blue one 'cause it'll match your outfit." Mila suggested. I waved her off, watching as the sign became clearer the closer we walked.

"Chancho, people don't buy food for the aesthetic, they buy food for the taste."

A woman had her back turned to us when we walked up. I looked towards my best friend who scrunched up her face in disgust at the woman.

"Doesn't matter. If it matches and tastes good, I want in."

"I'll be with you in just a moment, ladies." A deep, smooth voice called. I shifted my gaze towards her.

From behind, I could see the imprint of a dragonfly on the back of her neck, underneath deep brown wisps of air. Her milky skin was hidden by her white long sleeve that was rolled up to her elbows.

"Okay, thank you."

Camila nudged me. "That tattoo's fake."

I narrowed my eyes at her. She was always trying to degrade someone. If we didn't grow up together, I wasn't sure I'd make an attempt to be her friend. There were a lot of bad qualities about Mila, and most of them outweighed the good.

"How do you know?"

"What do you mean how do I know? My dad's a tattoo artist. If anything, I would know what a real tattoo looks like."

I poked her ribs, and gave her a death glare in hopes it would make her stop. "Can you not talk about someone for once in your life? It really isn't right."

"No, it isn't right for you. It works just fine for me." She reprimanded, casting her long brown hair over her shoulders. She'd recently cut her ends and gotten bangs, and ever since she came back from the hair salon, she could never keep her hands out of her hair.