Carmen is screwed up. She's been in and out of juvie all her life and seriously there's no place she'd rather be. Until she gets released from juvie unexpectedly, given a probation officer, and forced to live with a normal family and go to a normal...
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I let out a breath as I finished up the wings on my eyeliner. I put the cap on the liquid eye makeup, and put it back into the black bag it had come from.
I closed my eyes for a second so that it could dry, and after waiting a few seconds, I let my eyes flutter open to look at my reflection, standing in the bathroom with that red dress on. Damn I looked good.
My hair was wavy, courtesy of Daya's curling iron that she for some reason kept in the glove box of her car.
In case of emergencies, she had said.
Now, what emergency would call for a curling iron, I have no fucking idea, but it was there, and she told me I could borrow it.
Though, after several burns on my hands, and my disobedient and stubborn hair refusing to stay curled, I just said fuck it, and stopped, though the waves were looking pretty awesome.
I sighed before grabbing the makeup bag, and going back into Jay and I's room. The boots that I had bought were by my bed, so was the leather jacket and purse. I hadn't even bothered to look at the jewelry that Daya had gotten me, she had assured me in the car that they had been inexpensive, and on sale, so I felt a little better accepting the gift.
I looked inside the bag and saw an almost choker that was made out of tiny gold coin-looking things, which actually looked really cool, along with some black bottle cap earrings. Jack Daniels Ol. Number 7, might I add. I quickly flipped the necklace over my head and hooked the clasp together, and then trying to fit the earrings into the holes in my ears that I had done myself when I was nine.
Cold rock and a paperclip. That's the way to do it.
Though, they had started to seal up after a while of me not wearing earrings. They didn't let you wear them in juvie, something about how they could be used as a weapon.
There was probably a damn good story behind that little rule.
I threw my jacket on, adjusting it a little, getting a feel for the real leather, or at least that's what the tag said, on my skin.
It even felt expensive.
I looked at the boots.
And then looked at the ones that Daya had pointed out had duct-tape on the bottom.
And maybe a little hot glue.
I'd had them for about four years, for some reason my feet had pretty much stayed the same size, which was good, considering that those shoes were the only pair I'd had.
Until now at least. The boots had a two-and-a-half-inch heel on them, and though the height had scared me at first, they were actually really comfortable, I was pretty sure if I needed to make a run for it, I could totally run in them.
