here, under the same roof as my new friends,
I find myself waking up before dawn once again.
But perhaps the
strangest thing I’m noticing these days is that I’m starting to feel...I don’t
know a better word for it than beautiful.
People have been
complimenting my looks since I was small, but I’ve never paid them any mind. My
features have always just seemed like a random collection, just like everyone
else’s. But being around Conway, and Garrick, and Trace is making me start to
reconsider my disinterest in my looks.
It takes me the
whole first month of living with the Daniels before I bring my newfound
fascination to my foster sister. One night, after Paul has forced us to retire
upstairs so that he can blast Man Vs. Food on the living room TV, I sheepishly
ask Conway for her help.
“This is going
to sound dumb,” I begin, sitting on my bed with my hands fidgeting in my lap,
“But I was wondering if you could, uh...give me some lessons?”
“What could I
possibly teach you?” Conway asks from behind her issue of Cosmo, “You’re the
smart one in the house, sweetie. If you need a tutor, you’re barking up the
wrong—”
“No. I want to
figure out the whole...girly thing.” Conway stares at me in wonder, so I sigh
and go on. “You know. Hair. Makeup. That sort of thing.”
“Are you kidding
me?” Conway asks, sitting up on her pink comforter.
“Yeah. It’s
stupid, I guess. I’m sorry for asking. Forget I—”
“It’s not
stupid! I’ve been waiting to style you since you moved in!” she squeals, all
but leaping across the room at me. “This thick hair of yours, those exotic
features and shit...this is going to be so much fun.”
“I don’t want
anything too drastic,” I tell her, “I just...I’d like to look nice. You know?”
“So who’s the
guy?” she teases, pulling me over to a beat-up vanity strewn with beauty
products.
“What do you
mean?” I ask.
“Please,” she
laughs, “There’s got to be a guy. Otherwise, why the sudden interest?”
Unbidden, the
image of Trace floats up before my mind’s eye. I’ve stopped trying to convince
myself that I’m not totally falling into stupid puppy love with him. The more I
get to know him, the more I learn about his past, the more I feel like we were
meant to end up in this place together. Nothing’s happened between us, of
course. But...that doesn’t mean I’d stop it if it did.
Still, I’m not
interested in dolling myself up for Trace’s benefit. He’s spent a whole month
getting to know me just as I am, and we get along perfectly well. I’m not
looking for a love spell, or some way to win his favor.
I’m just
curious.
“I just want to
try the whole beautification thing out,” I tell Conway. It’s the truth.
“Fine,” she
sighs, “I’ll take your word for it. But I know you’re crushing on someone hard,
whether or not this is for him.”
“How do you know
that?” I ask.
“Nadia,” Conway
says, placing her hands on my shoulders. “I’m your sister. I know.”
“I’ve never had
a sister before,” I tell her, “I guess I’m still getting used to it.”
“Well, this
should help!” she smiles, “Makeovers are, like, Sister 101. So relax. Let me
show you the mystical, magical world of mascara, my love.”
Conway goes to
work—brushing and plucking and painting. I’m concerned about how much this is
going to make me look like a circus clown, but when she finally lets me look in
the mirror, I’m floored.
The result of my
foster sister’s ministrations is...gorgeous. My eyes look subtly smoky, with
smooth cat eye swoops polishing the effect. My cheekbones are defined and rosy.
My lips are a lovely shade of cocoa. My hair is arranged in loose waves that
spill across my shoulders. The only thing that looks less than totally put-together
is my slack jawed expression.
“You don’t hate
it, do you?” Conway asks nervously. “If it’s too much—”
I leap up and
wrap my arms around the
I find myself waking up before dawn once again.
But perhaps the
strangest thing I’m noticing these days is that I’m starting to feel...I don’t
know a better word for it than beautiful.
People have been
complimenting my looks since I was small, but I’ve never paid them any mind. My
features have always just seemed like a random collection, just like everyone
else’s. But being around Conway, and Garrick, and Trace is making me start to
reconsider my disinterest in my looks.
It takes me the
whole first month of living with the Daniels before I bring my newfound
fascination to my foster sister. One night, after Paul has forced us to retire
upstairs so that he can blast Man Vs. Food on the living room TV, I sheepishly
ask Conway for her help.
“This is going
to sound dumb,” I begin, sitting on my bed with my hands fidgeting in my lap,
“But I was wondering if you could, uh...give me some lessons?”
“What could I
possibly teach you?” Conway asks from behind her issue of Cosmo, “You’re the
smart one in the house, sweetie. If you need a tutor, you’re barking up the
wrong—”
“No. I want to
figure out the whole...girly thing.” Conway stares at me in wonder, so I sigh
and go on. “You know. Hair. Makeup. That sort of thing.”
“Are you kidding
me?” Conway asks, sitting up on her pink comforter.
“Yeah. It’s
stupid, I guess. I’m sorry for asking. Forget I—”
“It’s not
stupid! I’ve been waiting to style you since you moved in!” she squeals, all
but leaping across the room at me. “This thick hair of yours, those exotic
features and shit...this is going to be so much fun.”
“I don’t want
anything too drastic,” I tell her, “I just...I’d like to look nice. You know?”
“So who’s the
guy?” she teases, pulling me over to a beat-up vanity strewn with beauty
products.
“What do you
mean?” I ask.
“Please,” she
laughs, “There’s got to be a guy. Otherwise, why the sudden interest?”
Unbidden, the
image of Trace floats up before my mind’s eye. I’ve stopped trying to convince
myself that I’m not totally falling into stupid puppy love with him. The more I
get to know him, the more I learn about his past, the more I feel like we were
meant to end up in this place together. Nothing’s happened between us, of
course. But...that doesn’t mean I’d stop it if it did.
Still, I’m not
interested in dolling myself up for Trace’s benefit. He’s spent a whole month
getting to know me just as I am, and we get along perfectly well. I’m not
looking for a love spell, or some way to win his favor.
I’m just
curious.
“I just want to
try the whole beautification thing out,” I tell Conway. It’s the truth.
“Fine,” she
sighs, “I’ll take your word for it. But I know you’re crushing on someone hard,
whether or not this is for him.”
“How do you know
that?” I ask.
“Nadia,” Conway
says, placing her hands on my shoulders. “I’m your sister. I know.”
“I’ve never had
a sister before,” I tell her, “I guess I’m still getting used to it.”
“Well, this
should help!” she smiles, “Makeovers are, like, Sister 101. So relax. Let me
show you the mystical, magical world of mascara, my love.”
Conway goes to
work—brushing and plucking and painting. I’m concerned about how much this is
going to make me look like a circus clown, but when she finally lets me look in
the mirror, I’m floored.
The result of my
foster sister’s ministrations is...gorgeous. My eyes look subtly smoky, with
smooth cat eye swoops polishing the effect. My cheekbones are defined and rosy.
My lips are a lovely shade of cocoa. My hair is arranged in loose waves that
spill across my shoulders. The only thing that looks less than totally put-together
is my slack jawed expression.
“You don’t hate
it, do you?” Conway asks nervously. “If it’s too much—”
I leap up and
wrap my arms around the
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