04: No New Friends
I apply eyeliner in a minute. Sitting on the white and pink stool of Caggie’s vanity, of which she got as a ‘sorry for missing your birthday’ present from her Great Aunt who lives in England. The circle mirror with jewelled embellishment stares back at me, and an endless amount of products litter the once white surface of the vanity. A mascara wand teeters on the edge, the black substance leaving a dot on the desk from the unbalance, and the bottle of L’Oreal mascara had been previously pushed into the left side drawer, where Caggie pushes everything into at the end of getting ready, promising herself she’ll sort it out when she gets back, but she doesn’t, as there are two MAC paint pots which are dried to a crisp sitting right at the back, underneath an Urban Decay eye palette.
Caggie’s vanity is the fountain of makeup, and I rely on her to have everything that I don’t. I blink back at my reflection in the mirror, heavy eyeliner, red lips and hair tied up in a bun secured with a red and white bandana. A compact blush which is cracked is picked up by Caggie, along with three others and she then opens the right drawer with the circle handle which is close to falling off, then she drops them in, slamming the drawer after her. There’s always a continuous effort to clean up the mess of products which are being wasted, but as more time is spent at Target and yearly trips to IMATS are being made, the effort is in vain when products can be so easily be replaced.
I love Caggie’s room, for the fact it’s such a polar opposite to mine. Where mine is blue and white, Caggie’s is black and pink. Caggie takes steps backward, leaving a footprint on her pink bed sheet which hangs over the edge of the bed, brushing along the floor. I watch in the mirror, as tanned legs with black nail polish and red heels teeter along her cream carpet, until she’s on the far side of the room, standing by the window and lighting a cigarette. On her way back, she uses her foot to brush several tops and dresses which were being taken into consideration but never made the final cut, to the sides of the room, leaving a clear path from the window back to the vanity.
“How does Neeco feel about you smoking?” I want to know why she finally stops, and then jumps back to old habits. I remember taking my first cigarette, Logan C. was drunk and I liked him and it was the kind of infatuation where I’d have done anything to make myself look kind of cool for him to remember my name, at the time, I hadn’t realised that it was like everyone already knew who I was, but Amy Vancouver had turned 16, and everyone knew that her party was supposed to be ‘wild’, and then one of Logan’s friends took out a pack of cigarettes, and by the end of it, I was choking up a lung, and Logan actually remembered my name, but not for the reasons that I’d hoped for.
“Neeco is a very open-minded person, actually. His Mom is a lesbian, so I think that says enough.”
After blotting my lips on a piece of tissue, I hold it in my hands, looking at the remnants of red lipstick on the white tissue. I move and grab onto a sparkly blue eyeliner, take the plastic lid off, and hold the tissue flat against the vanity. “It says that Neeco has a gay Mom, not that he likes smoking.”
The eyeliner crumbles against the surface of the tissue once I press down, blue flakes with green dots forming around the tip as it gradually breaks down by the time I’ve finished the first number. 5/18.
“Anyway,” Caggie scrambles to find an ashtray, “remember when I mentioned that Neeco is friends with Adrienne’s cousin?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“Well, I saw him yesterday, at 7-11, and he was like, Adrienne is excited to be coming back home. He wouldn’t say why she’s coming back now though. I mean, it’s kinda late isn’t it?”
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Teen FictionCASE: CLOSED "She's dead now, and there's nothing we can do about it." --- Kasia Andrews expects very little on a Monday morning. Until, whilst locked in the PE store cupboard, accompanied with basket balls, netballs, soccer balls and the guy that...