Wild ― Piper McLean

―xiv. aphrodite-approved makeovers

THEIR LAST MORNING COULDN'T HAVE BEEN PRETTIER. The sunrise made the entire world seem to glisten, the fresh snow like glitter on the ground. If not for the ever-present cold, she might have enjoyed it. 

Even so, the thermos of coffee in her hand warmed her inside and out, and though she loved to complain, she decided instead to enjoy the peace while it lasted. 

Which wasn't long at all. 

A storm of a girl barged into the tent, face a picture of righteous fury, of a betrayal Verona didn't understand yet. All she knew was that her friend—who had always been the calm one of their group, the think-first-act later third of their trio—was fuming.

She slapped a book, or some kind of journal, onto their leader's desk, her eyes glistening with tears Verona had thought were angry at first, but were actually despair. Despair at their fate, crafted by a liar's greed. 

"You wrote it," she said, her voice a rumble of thunder. It was an accusation and a plea all in one. "Didn't you?"

Another girl stood, frowning softly. "What's going on?" 

Their leader didn't look at her, didn't deign her with his attention despite everything they were supposed to have. He only kept his eyes on the storm of a girl glaring at him, her rage like the static before a lightning strike. 

Verona stood, looking between the pair with furrowed brows. "What is it?"

The storm didn't look away from the liar as she answered: "He's doomed us all." 

🌿

"Mother!" 

Verona jerked awake, banging her knee against the underside of a table—table? 

"What?" Hedge demanded. "Fight who? Where?"

"Falling!" Leo grabbed the table. "No—not falling. Where are we?"

"I smell coffee," Verona said. "But that was... a dream... what—?" She blinked, trying to get her bearings. She saw Piper and choked a little. "What are you wearing?" 

She was wearing a dark blue dress and a pair of black leather boots that reached her knees, with a snowboarding jacket that should not have matched, but Verona was starting to think Piper could wear a trash bag and Crocs and look like she was on her way to a runway—because of the Aphrodite thing, obviously...

Her hair had been styled, too, all shiny and perfect and falling just right over her shoulders. Verona wondered if it felt as soft as it looked...

"It's nothing," Piper said quickly, her face flushed. "It's my—" She stopped herself. "It's nothing."

Leo grinned. "Aphrodite strikes again, huh? You're gonna be the best-dressed warrior in town, beauty queen."

"Hey, Leo." Jason nudged his arm. "You look at yourself recently?"

"What... oh."

All of them seemed to have gotten a makeover. Leo was wearing pinstriped pants, black leather shoes, a white collarless shirt with suspenders, and his tool belt, Ray-Ban sunglasses, and a porkpie hat.

"God, Leo," Piper snickered. "I think my dad wore that to his last premiere, minus the tool belt."

"Hey, shut up!"

"I think he looks good," said Coach Hedge. "'Course, I look better."

The satyr was a pastel nightmare. He had on a baggy zoot suit with two-tone shoes that fit over his hooves, with a matching yellow broad-brimmed hat, a rose-colored shirt, a baby blue tie, and a blue carnation in his lapel, which Hedge sniffed and then ate.