“Your life is so colorful.”
She blows me a kiss. “Love you, bye.” Then, she jams her face into the camera. “And don’t word-vomit all over Skye aboutThe Little Mermaidlike you do every time you get nervous talking to someone.” She says it like we’re each on opposite sides of an elevator door and she has to get the words out before it closes.
“Love you, bye.” I shake my head before I hang up the phone.
Hands in a meat grinder?
At least when I talk to my mom later this afternoon, I won’t have to make up a surgery like I did yesterday. She bought it, but I hate lying to her more than I already am.
There’s just no easy way to tell her that she won’t boast about her daughter’s accomplishments, because it could end badly if people found out who I really am.
Linda Lockwood is anything but a locked box. The entire knitting club back home would hear about her mega-famous daughter within milliseconds. I love my mom, but she wouldn’t be able to contain a secret like this.
I shudder at the thought.
The feeling in the pit of my stomach brings Cassie’s question back to light. I know I’m not a lesbian because I find men attractive. And it’s not that I don’t think Skye isn’t hot because she totally is, but could I actually get myself to touch… down there?
Freaking myself out, I get to my feet and decide to shower.
“It’s not like that’s even a thought in Skye’s head,” I tell myself, storming into the bathroom and grabbing the towel from the hanger. “Cassie is just crazy. I’m straight. Skye isn’t into me. We’re all fucking dandy.”
The wig itches.
That’s always the first thing I notice. Not the weight of the mask, not the way the bodice changes how I stand or how I breathe. It’s the wig.
Synthetic strands brush the back of my neck with my strawberry-blonde hair tucked up underneath in secret. We could have chosen a wig closer to my natural hair color, but I haven’t had any wig mishaps so far.
I’m staring at myself in the full-length mirror of my hotel room in Milan. The city is already awake and buzzing with people now that it’s just after seven-thirty in the morning.
When I walk through the lobby in my leggings and sweater, nobody knows that I’m the one who is headlining the Olympic Closing Ceremonies to sing the Star-Spangled Banner.
Nobody sees me.
They see Solace. A mask with sharp theatrical lines, framed with a platinum blonde wig.
My hands trace the sequins on my corset bodice, and yes, I look stunning. But I look stunning in the eyes of the person underneath, hiding from everything around her.
The masked woman in the mirror looks fearless and ready to conquer the biggest moment she’ll ever experience.
Underneath, my palms are sweaty, and my heart is thumping like drums announcing the arrival of someone important.
There’s a knock on my door, and I freeze. All the blood drains from my body.
They knock again.
I feel like they can see straight through that door and into the violet eyes of my secret personality.
Should I call Michel?
Can he get here in time if I’m actually in any danger?
Why did I get dressed in this? It’s not like I had anywhere to be.
Quickly and quietly, I start stripping the shell of my second personality, laying it into the lockbox that I’ve kept stored under the bed. The wig is draped over the plastic head form I travel with to keep it from tangling, while the mask rests on the bodice’s fabric. I slide the box into its hiding spot and tiptoe into the bathroom, cranking the shower in hopes that whoever is at my door will go away.
“Maybe the closin’ ceremonies would be a good time to reveal your true identity,” Ollie suggests as soon as I pick up the phone.
“No,” I say immediately. “And you know why I can’t.”
