Undercover Badge; Next Generation

Chapter twenty four

CHAPTER 24

             I wasn't the kind of girl that spent hours getting dressed or ready for an event, and if I was being honest, I was really more of a wash and wear kind of girl. But every woman, no matter who she was, had a point of vanity. Mine was my hair.

By way of makeup I owned the minimum; a pencil eyeliner, a tube of mascara, an eyeshadow palette, foundation I'd used twice in the two years I'd had it, and two lipsticks I'd gotten as gifts from Ingrid but never wore. I'd never exactly had the confidence to pull of the crimson red which I felt made me look sexy and older, but also made me feel strangely naked. The nude lipstick, ironically, did the opposite, the lack of colour washing me out completely and making my pale ass self with my platinum blonde hair look like a legitimate spectre. Otherwise I had fruit flavoured and tinted lip balms that I wore daily. I had a facial moisturiser and matching body lotion that supposedly smelled like roses and honey, according to the label.

When it came to my hair, I had more products for it than clothes.

The thing about having very long hair was that no one admitted how much upkeep it was. Caring for my hair was my religion and while it on occasion could be very annoying and mean to me some days, it could be ridiculously nice on others. However, no matter its mood or mess on any given day, I found that my hair always suited me and sat in a way that complimented me and it was never a full on catastrophe. The rarity of my combination of hair was not lost on me either. Having platinum hair that was natural was enough of a rarity, adding that it was also thick doubled the statistical improbability.

With my hair damp, I applied some light mousse to the strands before I blowed it out with a large round brush. My mom liked to laugh and call me obsessive when she caught me doing it, but in truth, messing with my hair was my version of meditation, it calmed me down. By the time I was done, my hair had the slightest wave to it had been smoothed down and now the ends rested on the small of my back. I'd need to cut the ends, I realised as I fingered the tips of the strands. I ran my hands through my hair and was happy that the heavy strands felt smooth and soft.

For a few hours I blundered around the house, half-heartedly watching tv, catching up on school work I realised I'd been missing with all of the shenanigans. I almost ran into Tommy during my aimless wandering and I realised that without my noticing, he'd grown another three inches. He no longer had to tilt his head back to look up at me, and I found myself feeling kind of distraught by it. He peered at me with those icy baby blues through his strawberry blonde hair that desperately needed a cut. His skin had begun clearing up and Tommy's limbs had begun talking on the spiderlike look of the lanky pubescent male teen. In his right hand he held a family size Kit Kat and was biting into it, which made my OCD itch.

He had his phone pressed to his ear. "Dude, I can't go." He was muttering, looking at me like I'd sprouted another head when my eyes began to water looking at him and realising that I'd missed a lot. I hadn't even asked how meeting his biological parents had gone.

"Yeah..." he said awkwardly and sidestepped me.

I shook my head and ducked it down trying to calm myself after my freak out. I'd have to fix it but now wasn't the time, I consoled myself, brain flipping to the situation. I was difficult to kill and had died multiple times in the last month, I had the muscular and sexy complication that was Matthew in my life and when Halloween came in a week's time, I'd be searching for my apparently dangerous mother and father. When I'd finished eating, I realised that the clock read six pm.

The cold temperature told me I'd need to dress warm, so I donned a pair of ridiculously tight black skinny jeans, the ones Ingrid insisted made my ass look its best. My brown leather ankle books with the chunky heel followed, and I pulled my favourite jacket from my closet. The leather matched my boots and my messenger bag, and I felt incredibly put together. Under it I wore a skin tight, long-sleeved white shirt with a deep v that admittedly displayed some cleavage, white fingerless wood gloves and a deep cream cashmere scarf. The leather was buttery and supple and had been a gift for my seventeenth birthday, the perfect match to the semi rough and tough leather of my messenger bag, the colour fitting each other perfectly. I decided to wear my glasses, and added a light swipe of watermelon lip gloss. I felt ridiculous as I got dressed, realising that I was dressing myself up like a doll for Matthew's amusement, or at least as dressed up as I got. And I was completely and utterly hoping he liked it.