We return home the day before the festival.
And when I walk through my door, my mother and I are the only souls inside.
Sky and I speak about it at midnight, like always. We laugh and smile and I cry a bit, but it's okay. It's all okay.
Because now, we are free.
Sky invites me into his room for the night, and I come running, wiping my tears along the way.
Starting from as early as the next morning, I already feel how much closer my mom and I feel, now that my dad is gone. The way we smile at each other is different without the fear. Without the struggle. And I hug her, thank her a hundred more times for standing up for me. For us.
After dressing for a hot summer day spent outside, I visit Emma at her place. The nerves coursing through her are evident on her face, and it's worrisome, but I'm glad to see a spot of chocolate at the corner of her lip. We get to the festival together, and I text Sky in the car with my first phone, letting him know where I'll be all day. He reminds me to come do his makeup before he goes on stage. I grin to myself.
Out of all the things to practise relentlessly for his performance, Sky asked me to help him with his makeup. He said stage lights wash you out, and facial expression is important in his piece, so I obliged: I would've taken any excuse to do his makeup, anyway.
The first time, of course, I clowned him. Literally clowned him. He only realized I was doing something suspicious when I took to slathering his mouth with red lipstick, swiping it beyond the borders of his lips to draw a smile on his cheeks. I exploded with giggles at my creation as he looked at the mirror, looked at me, looked at the mirror, then back at me, and decided the best revenge was to cover me with red kisses. I shouted, laughing hysterically as he smeared lipstick all over my face, my jaw, my neck, my stomach, my calves. When I managed to push him away, we started over, and I did something actually worthwhile for his beautiful face. I was ecstatic to see him smile at his reflection, nodding. Burnt-gold eyes bright with joy. And then we ruined my work again, kissing endlessly.
Before our trip, Sky did insist I review his choreography too. And every time, I couldn't say anything but 'wow'. But he wasn't satisfied until I held my breath and gasped and shouted and whooped at his moves.
When I finally gave him a loud standing ovation, he smiled shyly, and hid his face in my hair. And then, in true Sky fashion, ruined the moment:
"Let this serve as further proof that I know how to get reactions from your body, babygirl."
I pretended to cringe and push him away, though my eyes were wide during the entire drive home.
And we tested his theory back at my place.
Emma parks the car, and we rush off through the closed-off streets of the festival, stumbling to the YBC's stage. It's amazing: the cameras poised to film the contestants' work, the humongous screen set up so that the spectators can see. As Emma sets down her things backstage, I even get a glimpse of celebrity judges mic-ing up and getting their hair fixed. We giggle together, and imitate their youtube-famous culinary freak outs, quietly enough so they don't hear us making fun of their accents.
Once everything is set up there, the two of us have time to wander around. The streets are decorated with gorgeous flowers; white and puffy, swollen, almost, with delicate and round petals. Some of them fall and twirl to the ground, slowly peppering the streets, which will no doubt be covered with a carpet of white by the end of the evening. Poles and lampposts are strung with mystical-looking vines, which sprout pink blossoms, the petals soft to the touch, yet thick and sturdy. Hana did a wonderful job. And when I visit her kiosk, I see that half of her business card pile has evaporated. I would know, since I helped design and print them. I take one for myself and grin at it, Hana's face smiling back at me.
I introduce Emma to Hana, cringing when the latter fusses over how skinny the former is. But it's okay, because Emma handles it like a pro, assuring her with a wink in my direction that she's just been sick recently, and is working hard on gaining weight.
It seems Hana understands immediately, and I smile as she gifts Emma with a bright orange orchid that perfectly compliments her makeup and the wacky pins on her polo.
YOU ARE READING
Asunder
Teen Fiction"Promise me. Promise me you'll never beg someone to stay when they're already gone." Tangled up a million knots, Kingsley has lost faith in happiness. Her heavy heart struggles to continue to beat, and she is slowing down. It seems to her that the w...
