The Dumping Ground One Shots

m a s k

"How can a pencil be your best friend?"

Candi-Rose could still hear Finn's disapproving tone asking the question over and over in her head. It sounded ridiculous. An eyeliner pencil being someone's best friend sounded completely ridiculous. But it was true. She needed that stupid eyeliner pencil.

 She had started wearing makeup a lot younger than the girls surrounding her. It caused many people to comment on her face. She definitely lost count of how many times she heard someone say "Wow, she's so young." or "Look at her eyeliner! It's perfect." or "That girl does not need to be wearing all that makeup yet." Candi didn't care what was being said, as long as they were saying something. At least she was getting attention.

 She depended so heavily on her makeup collection. It was her coverage, her security blanket. It gave her confidence. It had been years since she left the house without covering her whole face with multiple layers of foundation. Or without her lips being coloured with a sparkling pink gloss. Or without her lashes coated with thick mascara.

  Not even Chloe had seen her natural face. Her best (human) friend hadn't seen her face without any cosmetics. The thought of it was paralysing. What was she without her mask? A boring, bland nothing of a girl. She was normal. And she couldn't be normal. It was hard enough to get her parents attention even with makeup; it was impossible without and she was sure it would be the same here. Not many people liked her anyway, she couldn't loose Chloe. Ever.

 She had created a persona. A special girl who wore flamboyant colours on her face and could tell you anything about any cosmetic brand if you asked. She was the girl who wore pink and glitter and sparkles. It wasn't the real, boring her which was exactly what she wanted, the real her didn't need to be known by anyone. People had opinions about this Candi-Rose, whether they were compliments or not, people knew who she was.

 Okay, she could accept that maybe she was getting a tiny bit obsessed. Did it really matter? She was happy. So what if she took over an hour to get ready in the morning, meaning she had to wake up much earlier? At least she looked good. It didn't matter that she would stay up waiting for everyone to fall asleep so she could remove her mask without people seeing her blank face. She wasn't tired anyway. Who cared if she cried every time her wing messed up or her eyebrows didn't match. She would fix it eventually. 

 She was pretty.

 She was known.

There was as many tears as there was smiles. And there was plenty of smiles.

She was perfect.

Nothing else mattered.