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“You like him, don’t you?” she asks. “Devon?”
“How did you…” I pause.
“He’s been at all of our meets lately,” she says. “I’ve known Devon since I was in seventh grade. He doesn’t do stuff like that. And he sits there with a book, not paying attention to anything. He watches you, though.”
“Ilovehim,” I tell her. It’s the first time I’ve said it aloud, but it’s in my head all the time. Letting it out—giving life to the words—is a relief in itself. Maybe I won’t want to cut it out later. “But I can’t compete with anyone. I’m ugly.”
“That is crazy,” she says, digging through her locker. “You are not ugly. And Riley…she just has a lot of makeup on.”
She pulls a bag from her locker and sits on the opposite bench, facing me.
“It’s not obvious—if you’re worried about that. I notice things about people,” she says. “Those of us in the field events have a lot of time to do that, you know?”
I nod. She lifts my chin with her thumb and pulls an eyeshadow pallet from the bag. “Close.”
I close my eyes and feel the brush on my lids.
“And the way he looks at you…that’s something to envy. It’s the kind of look that makes someone not on the receiving end want to clear the room. Open,” she says, snapping the pallet closed and pulling mascara from the same bag, “but just a little.”
She brushes the mascara over my top lashes. “Look up.”
I do what she says, and she runs it across my lower lashes.
“You know about me, right?” I ask.
“It’s a small island,” Laurel says. “If you’re asking if I know about your mom and how your aunt and uncle keep you locked up, then yeah. I know about that.”
“He’s going to get tired of it,” I tell her.
She gives me a sympathetic look and pulls a couple of lipsticks from her bag. She examines the two shades before deciding on one and facing me again.
“Part your lips.”
I do what she asks, and she runs the bright red color over my lower lip.
“I don’t know, Ally,” she says. “I wouldn’t.”
She finishes with my lips and lifts my chin again. “I wouldn’t even put anything on your skin,” she says. “Your complexion is flawless.”
“I’m not allowed to wear makeup.”
“So? Wash it off before you get home.”
“I can see why everyone likes you so much,” I tell her.
“I can see why Devon likes you so much,” she tells me. “Some people are just…worth it.”
She stands and puts the bag back in her locker. I notice she’s left the makeup she used on me out on the bench.
“You should keep those,” she says. “You don’t need it, but everyone deserves to feel pretty.”
Once the sound of her footsteps fades, I stand and walk over to the sinks to get a look at myself in the mirror. I almostcry again when I see the girl looking back at me. It’s been so long since I’ve seen my face with makeup on—nearly a year now.
And Idolook pretty.
But I also feel like an imposter, like I’m not allowed to look like this.
Still, I pull out my hair tie and shake out my long, dark hair. I put the makeup Laurel left for me in a compartment in my duffle bag and then shove it back into my locker. I mentally prepare myself to make space for it in my box of secrets under the bed.
