me to give up before I make it worse.
I’ll fix it later, I mouth to her.
She flashes me a thumbs-up.
Clem and I go get our nails done, and I guess Grammy must have called ahead, because her nail tech, a young Black girl who is constantly talking to someone on her Bluetooth headset but is also somehow incredibly meticulous, is ready and waiting for us. Clem gets her nails done in lavender, which is boring, but it matches her dress and she’ll probably chew off all the polish by tomorrow morning anyway.
I show Rita a picture on my phone of a black manicure that fades into gold at the tips. She wordlessly nods and begins to work her magic, which makes my nails so pretty, I swear I could work my own magic with these fingers.
Back at home, I take a quick shower and put a little bit of oil in my curls before letting them air-dry while Clem gets dressed.
The doorbell rings, and I race to answer it. I swing open the door, and—“It’s only Hannah!” I call.
“Wow. Thanks,” she says.
“Sorry. I thought you were my tux delivery. But oh my God! Your hair!”
Her brows pop up expectantly. “You like?”
“I love!” Hannah has chopped her shaggy, coarse waves into a chic look that perfectly embodies her. She has an undercut with the rest of her hair tamed into curls and cut into a short bob, all nested over to one side. “Gorge,” I declare, and twirl my finger for her to give me a spin.
Hannah holds her arms out and obliges before posing with one side of her jacket collar popped up and the kind of smooth grin that could make a whole town lock up their daughters. She wears a navy-blue tux with a matte black vest and a lavender velvet bow tie. Her pocket square is a black-and-lavender floral print, and I have to admit, I’m very proud. “Very nice,” I say. “Very dapper. Now, sit,” I command before racing back to Clem’s room.
“Let’s see this hair,” I tell my sister, who is wearing the dress she bought online from the Forever 21 clearance section. It’s a black mod-looking number with a giant lavender bow that hangs from the collar down the length of the dress. She’s also traded her glasses for contacts, which she’s always too lazy to do in the mornings.
“Did you and Hannah match on purpose?”
She swivels around in her desk chair. “What? No. I just told her my dress was lavender and black.”
“Well, she must really like you. A very chic color combo, by the way.”
She smiles, and I think she might actually melt at the thought of Hannah matching her outfit to her dress.
“Hair time,” I say.
Clem had shown Carla a picture of Adele, but all Carla saw was BIG HAIR and she sort of ignored the whole sixties vibe of it all. I’m not necessarily good with hair, but I still do my best to tame it all into a ponytail at the nape of her neck with a good bit of volume left on top.
“The tux has arrived.”
I turn around to find Grammy framed in the doorway. “Yes! Thank you!”
She hands the garment bag over. “Now, I just went with my grandmotherly intuition here.”
“I’m sure it’s perfect,” I tell her, and run into my room.
“Wait a minute,” she says, following me down the hall. “I’ve got one more thing.” She pulls a shoebox from her giant tote bag. “I should have given these to you the other day before your big show, but they just came in the mail this morning.”
I lay my tux on the bed and open the box to find bright-red patent leather heels. “Oh my God, how did you find these in my size?” The heel isn’t too tall, and it’s thick, so I think I might actually be able to walk in these. Tonight!
“Would you believe me if I told you the girl at the library reference desk helped me find them? Turns out there’s whole internet stores just for drag queens.”
I drop them on my bed and throw my arms around her. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” I’m so lucky to have someone who believes in me this much. It makes me not only want to do drag, but do it and be tremendously good at doing it.
“Well, you know your grammy had to be the one to buy you your first real pair of high heels. Honestly, it’s a shame we don’t