The Girl Who Wore Jordans

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

       “So, where’s your mom?” Alice asked as Lauren applied a thick coat of whatever to my face.

       “L.A.,” I said, as Lauren tilted my head in the desired direction.

       “For how long?” Tara asked, flipping through my closet.

       “A few days, a week, I don’t know,” I shrugged, receiving a disapproving glance from Lauren in response to my subtle action.

       “So… you’re home alone?” she mused.

       “Yeah, but she left me with her car keys,” I explained. 

       “Sounds fun,” Lauren commented, spreading something on my lips. “All done!” She turned my shoulders so I was facing a mirror. My face didn’t look like my face. My lips were shiny and pinker, my eyes were darker, and my face just felt… fake.

       “I like it,” I lied.

       “Yay!” she clapped, “I did it lighter than I would’ve preferred, but you’re skin tone makes up for it.”

       “Yeah, totally,” Alice agreed.

       “By the way, you did an awesome job on her hair, A,” Lauren complimented. In the past hour, I had learnt something very important about the three girls: Alice’s designated job was hair, Lauren makeup, and Tara did fashion.

       Before Lauren colored on my face, Alice had taken thirty minutes to burn my hair so it was stick straight. I didn’t like it. It didn’t feel like me.

       “What do you guys think about this?” Tara asked, emerging from the depths of my closet with two hangers in her hand. She held up one of the garments and it was a pair of black jeans. Lauren nodded in approval, as did Alice. After noting the satisfaction, she held up the other piece of clothing: a blue shirt.

       “Cute,” I said, as Tara breathed a sigh of relief with the addition of my liking.

       “And the top will totally look good with your eyes,” she said, handing me the two hangers. I held them by a finger, and excused myself from my room. After entering the bathroom, I quickly changed into the outfit, and stared at my reflection in the mirror.

       The shirt that had been chosen dropped lower in the back than it did the front. It was loose and short sleeved. If I were to lift my arms, my stomach would’ve been exposed. The other jeans, being the other article, were tight, but I complied with wearing them. 

       Upon returning to my room, a pair of shoes was in Tara’s hand, and Alice and Lauren were in a heated… debate.

       “You have a lot of Lawson shoes, Liz,” Tara told me, handing me the pair. I looked at the sole, and, sure enough, they were Kit’s.

       “Yeah, my mom’s kind of the, uh, president,” I said quietly.

       “Who’s the president?” Lauren asked, pausing her and Alice’s argument.

       “Liz’s mom,” Tara answered. 

       “Of what?” Alice asked.

       “Lawson,” I sighed, curious as to what their reaction would be.

       Whenever I revealed to friends in the past what my mother did, they neither cared, nor knew what Lawson was. But then again, they were of the male gender, and these girls most definitely were not.