Truly, Madly, Like Me - Jo Watson Page 0,10
moved, I jumped off the bonnet, climbed into the front seat and slid the key into the ignition. It didn’t start. Shit! Immobilizer! I looked down at the key ring, and it was no longer there. I looked out the windscreen and there it was, right in the middle of the bonnet, glaring at me. I glanced around again for the dog, but like something that had never actually been there in the first place, it had disappeared. Just to be safe though, I didn’t climb out of the car. Instead, I climbed out the open window and reached around with my arm, grabbing the little grey thing as quickly as I could. I pressed the button, turned the key and then skidded off, leaving an impressive dust cloud behind me. When I was a little way away, I slowed down and looked in my side mirrors. The dog had completely vanished and for a moment it made me question if I’d really seen it. Maybe I was hallucinating under the hot, desert sun. Was I? Honestly, I wasn’t sure I knew the answer to that question anymore.
I pulled my phone out and went back to my mood-tracking app.
I pressed the crazy face emoji.
Then I pressed the confused face emoji.
And then a cold shiver ran up my spine and made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.
Scared emoji.
I was definitely feeling scared.
CHAPTER 5
Three hours of driving later, I stopped my car and looked at the sign in front of me. It stared back at me, with a kind of ominousness foreboding. As if it were threatening me, or pointing an accusatory finger at me.
You are entering a radio quiet zone.
The use of cell phones, radios and Wi-Fi are strictly prohibited by the law.
I couldn’t believe it had come to this. That I was willingly entering a small town in the middle of an actual desert that had no internet and no way of getting it. Was I that desperate? Had my life really spun so far out of control that I was willing to do this?
I looked down at my cell phone. There were red and blue notifications signs everywhere. Twitter, Snapchat, Insta, Facebook, all lit up like Christmas trees, flickering lights, waiting for me. Beckoning me. Usually those notifications filled me with joy and a sense of excitement, but now they simply struck ice-cold terror into my veins. I closed my eyes and thought about it all for a second. About what had happened to me over the last few days. How had it all gone so wrong? And then I opened them again, and took a long, slow, deep breath. I had to do this. I pulled the mirror down to look at myself. I was a mess. I was never a mess. I always strived for perfection.
I reached into my bag and pulled out a hairbrush and my bulging make-up bag. I freed my bleached blonde hair from the messy bun it had been confined to for the past four days. It tumbled down to my shoulders looking wavy and unruly. Brushing it just made it worse, because now it was poodle puffy too. My natural hair is mousy brown and curly. But I’d been bleaching and straightening it for the past two years. @TheKyleWhite101 preferred it like that—he said it was better for our personal brand, and looked good in pictures with him, since he’s also blond. I gave up on the brushing and put my hair back into a bun, this time taking care to make it less like a bird’s nest. I unzipped my make-up bag and tipped the contents onto the seat next to me. It filled the entire space. Doing my make-up in the morning usually takes at least forty minutes. I have to conceal and contour and bake and blend and highlight and that’s just the foundation. Today, looking at myself in the mirror, I just didn’t have the strength to do it. I needed to at least get rid of the freckles, though. At least contour the sides and tip of my nose. And put some highlighter on the cupid’s bow of my lips, because without all that . . . well, I’m pretty ordinary. I’d discovered the transformative power of make-up some years ago, and then learned everything I could via YouTube tutorials. Make-up has the power to turn the ordinary into the extraordinary, and I need that. Brown curly hair, brown eyes, brown freckles, a rounded