GAME OVER ━━ Lip Gallagher

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

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Game Over
chapter thirty five

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                    SHE FELT SAFE IN THAT BED. She never understood why characters that were feeling blue stayed glued to their sheets at first. Wasn't it gross? Dirty? Boring? But having a bed in a place that was without tyranny, she finally understood. It was nice to lay beneath the sheets, tangled up in the comforter, and being able to sleep the day away. She didn't have long until school resumed, and she was happy to take this remaining time and share it with this soft, comfortable mattress. However, her world never truly works out in her favor, because a knock on the front door dragged her away from the cliff of unconsciousness.

Slowly, she parted from the safe space and slid on her slippers. She trudged through the house on autopilot before stopping in front of the door. Lock after lock, she turned and twisted, until the door was unlocked fully and she could pull it open. "Woah–" Her eyes widened upon seeing Debbie standing on the porch. Her lips were caked in a strawberry red, eyelids decorated with a purple color. "You cut your hair?" She instinctively reached for her hair, almost as if she had forgotten she had done so in the first place. "Yeah," she answered, ruffling the hair sticking to her forehead.

"Did you come here by yourself?" Phoebe scanned the world outside for any unfamiliar faces following the young girl. It was a dangerous neighborhood. "Come inside. Hurry." She ushered the young girl into the house and closed the door behind them, locking it tight. "Does anyone know you're here?" Debbie looked around the entryway curiously. She had never been to Phoebe and Alan's house before. She remembered the directions from Lip, but she had never actually been by herself. "No," she answered without hesitation. Phoebe snapped her fingers toward the girl and pointed at her feet. "Shoes." Debbie didn't hesitate to kick her sneakers off. She kicked them by the door with ease.

"What's with the makeup?" Phoebe finally asked, leaning down to get a better look at the artistry. "Is this for that Hank kid?" Her cheeks grew red at the accusation. "I'm sending stronger signals... But Holly said I look like I'm going to be a virgin for the rest of my life." Shit, Phoebe thought. She placed her hands on her hips with a sigh. "Will you help me?" Debbie finally asked. Phoebe's hands slipped from their stance and her eyes widened in surprise. "You want me to teach you about makeup?" She didn't get it. She didn't wear a lot other than when she went out with Fiona and Veronica. She preferred to keep it simple, mostly because of the guys at her school or even on the street. She hated the attention. "Are you sure you want my help, Debs? I'm sure there's someone else–"

"Please, Phoebe? You're the only person I can count on," she vocalized sadly. The older girl ran a hand through her hair. She couldn't just say no. She may have gotten rid of all ties with Lip, but not his family. "Fine," she sighed. "The bedroom is back there. I'll get my makeup." Debbie's eyes brightened. She turned and ran in the direction of the bedroom, leaving Phoebe to trudge toward her bathroom and getting her things. She continued into the bedroom with her two makeup bags full of product and brushes. "Not everything is going to match your skin tone, so I'm not sure how much of a help I can be," she explained. Debbie had already taken a seat at the end of the bed, legs crossed and hands in her lap.

Phoebe climbed into the bed and settled back into her dip of despair. "Scootch." Debbie climbed further into the bed and settled herself in front of the older girl. Phoebe had already unzipped the bags and began to pull out different products. "Did you and Lip fight?" Debbie asked as Phoebe squirted a bit of sunscreen onto her fingertips. The older girl dotted the citrus smelling product onto her freckled face, lips pressed into a tight line. "Lip said you did." She nodded her head. She didn't want to worry Debbie with that. "What do you like about this kid?" she instead asked, changing the subject.