I won....wait...WHAT?!

Bring The Boys Out!

You were frozen stiff while Cara put the baggy sweater and cap on you again. Everything was a blur of flashing lights. But you realized, that at some point of this commotion, your legs had started moving. Cara and Paul led you through the large glass doors. Through white hallways. Past music studios. It all seemed unreal. It was like a dream.

But, then Cara stopped. You, though, did not realize this. So you kept walking, until you ran into the wall. This brought you to reality. "OW! This is the second time this has happened to me, today!" you were once again rubbing your head. Behind you there was laughter. And not only Paul's or Cara's. You slowly turned around. And standing you was a group of unknown...people.

When Cara finally calmed down she whipped her eyes and tried to breath regularly. "OK..ha. OK, ___. These are," she gestured around her, "your stylists. They are in charge of your hair, make-up and outfits. But, they can't speak English. So I will have to translate. Now, since we have to be ready in...three hours, I suggest we start now." she turned around and told the stylists something in Korean. They all nodded vigorously. "OK, follow me ___. Because in three hours we are going to meet the boy's of Nu'est."

~~In The Change Room~~

"So, ___ is there any way you want to look?" Cara translated.

You shook your head and turned to the stylist. "This is my first time getting a make-over. So beg of you to be gentle. But I give you permission to change my appearance completely."

Cara translated quickly. The stylist's seemed to get even more excited. A thin woman led you to a large chair in front of a mirror. But, of course they wouldn't let you see yourself. "So you get the whole effect," Cara had told you. And the began working on your hair and make up immediately.

~~~~***~~~~

They worked for what felt like hours. Whispering excitedly to each other.  They must have changed your hair style over ten time's. You almost fell asleep once, but you got this strange sensation of being watched. Your eyes flew open, and you nearly had a heart attack. There was a woman standing right in front of you, she wasn't doing anything, just staring at you. She yelled something in Korean. Cara came over and looked intently at you, just as the woman was. You soon grew confused, and for some bizarre reason, the Korean woman started rambling excitedly. The she started clapping. Then that resulted in jumping up and down. Shooting a worried glance at Cara she leaned down to you and whispered to you, "She's just happy that your eyes match your hair and skin tone."

"They dyed my hair?!" you stage whispered.

"No, it's just that some stars eyes don't match their skin tone or natural hair color. And that gives them an uncoordinated appearance. Like the stylists put no thought or effort into the makeover. So they have to give them colored contacts. But you are lucky. They don't have to dye your hair or anything."

Relief flooded through you. It wasn't that you were worried they dyed your hair. It was just that You had grown so used to seeing it the way it was. You had never dyed your hair before, so it was perfectly healthy. That meant no straightening, or curling. So it was usually pretty messy. No matter what shampoo you used or how long you spent in front of the mirror in the morning, brushing your hair, it was always unmanageable. But this was all changing. You could hear the straightener give off the steam. They had wet your hair before they had started the make up. And every time it came to close to your ear, you flinched. You couldn't help it. It was really hot! And you were already burned before. Jake's cousins came over when you guys had gone camping. You and Maddi (your cousin) were roasting marshmallows, when her younger brother, Finley, had come running forward with the stick he had been using for roasting the marshmallows pointed outwards. Then...he tripped. And the stick went flying. And coincidentally, your foot was the target. The hot stick had landed right beside your left foot, leaving a long burnt trail down the side of your big toe. And of course you had been wearing those polka-dotted stupid flip-flops. Tip-never roast marshmallows in flip-flops. Ever. It won't end well.