The Art of Being Emily - Katie MacAlister Page 0,68
gel. “Spiking them in soft, swoopy curved spikes.”
She chewed on her lip for a minute as she looked at my bangs, then jumped up. “Stay here, I've got something better.”
“Something better than spiking gel?”
She came back with a small bottle in her hand and showed it to me. “It's not permanent color, it'll wash off, but I think it'll look good with your orange hair.”
“It's not orange, it's Copper—”
“Sunset Splendor, I know, but that's just another name for orange. Oh, don't get all huffy on me. Just spike your bangs. This is going to look really great, and it has the added bonus of making you a walking advertisement for Halloween.”
“Huh?”
“Black and orange!”
Once I got my bangs spiked she carefully applied the temporary black coloring to the ends of the spiky bits. I hate to admit that she was right, but she was. It really did look great, and very dramatic, although my hair is NOT orange.
“Now, let's see, for your eyes, I think the kohl will be best.”
“I was going to use Midnight's Passion for eye shadow—”
“No, no color. Just black and white and your hair. That'll be all the color you need.”
“But my lipstick—”
“Black. You have black lipstick?”
I started to nod, but she tsked and grabbed my chin, tipping my head back. “Sit still. I think an exaggerated Egyptian look is what you want.”
She did my eyes, darkened my eyebrows, and then did the lipstick last. “There you go; all done. You look like an angel who's been up to all sorts of trouble.”
I looked in the mirror and did a little dance. “Thanks, Bess, it's really cool.”
“Told ya.”
I stuck my tongue out at her and started to leave the bathroom. She grabbed my arm. “You need condoms?”
Why is everyone in this family trying to give me condoms? I mean, how many condoms can a girl use? Especially when I'm not using them? “No, I still have the last batch you gave me, and then Mom insisted on giving me some, too.”
“OK, just checking; don't get your knickers in a twist.”
“Oh, you are just so funny.”
“Have fun, Em.”
I snorted and went downstairs. Brother came out of the kitchen and did a double take at me. He turned to Mom, who was following him, and said, “You told me girls would be easier to raise than boys.”
Mom smiled at him. “I lied.”
I did a twirl for them, holding out my arms so the sleeves would flutter. “Well? What do you think? Do I look like a fallen angel?”
“Er...”
“You look very nice, dear. Doesn't she look nice?” Mom said
“Er...”
“I did her makeup,” Bess said, coming downstairs.
“Er...”
“Very striking, Bess.”
“Er...”
I rolled my eyes and whapped Brother on the arm. “Oh, stop it! You know I look fabulous. Now come on. I have to be there early so I can show the band where to set up and stuff, and to make sure that the Old-People cheese bits are clearly segregated from all the marvy chocolate things.”
Brother tried not to smile, but I saw it, and forgave him a little for not telling me how wonderful I looked. He drove me to the school and managed to include a lecture on what he called “proper behavior” but which everyone knows is just another name for being dead. Before I got out of the car, I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. “You're really old sometimes, but you're not too bad for a father.”
He looked surprised for a minute, then got a little weepy-eyed. “Thank you, Emily. Such words of praise are rare, and thus worth their weight in gold.”
I smiled and got out of the car and headed into the school, feeling all warm and fuzzy. I wonder how long Mom and Bess let him wear the black lipstick kiss on his forehead?
Phone was Holly calling to see if I was going to kill myself or not. OK, slight exaggeration, but she did say she wondered if I was going to make Brother let me go home. I have to admit, the thought is tempting.
Back to last night. Everything started off really well. We pushed the cheese twiddles, 115 types of Stilton, cheese crackers, cheese puffs, and cheese-something with mayonnaise (the Brits put mayo on everything) that looks like what our dog used to ralph up after he'd been eating in the compost heap to one end of the table, and rearranged the rest (chocolate, chocolate, chocolate) to display at maximum coolness.