'Being a teenager is a full-time job'
Six hours...that's how early Mercy drags my ass to my room at the mansion to start getting reading on the day of Homecoming. But according to Mercy, we are running 'late, late, late!'.
It has been a very busy and anxiety-inducing week so far, inaugurated by an elaborate pep rally, parade, and the game yesterday--that we won--and now wrapping up with the Homecoming dance.
I attended each event with a nonchalant cloak hiding my ever-bubbling anxiety with the sole purpose of supporting my best friend Graham. But I know if the situations were to be reversed Graham would do the same for me, I just have to keep reminding myself that as I get through today's dance.
Right now I have Mercy helping me with my make-up given that I have no skills in that department whatsoever, while 'All Dolled Up' by Janelle Monáe and Kelly Clarkson is blaring in the background.
"Hey, we're getting all dolled up. Feeling fresh and free, looking oh, so juice," Mercy sings along with the music as she finishes up with my eyeshadow, swaying her hips to the beat.
"There all pretty," she says finally done with it and looking quite pleased with herself.
"You're amazing," I acknowledge, having a look at her handy work myself and finding myself at a loss of words at her talent.
"How do you think I should do my hair?" Mercy tilts her head in the mirror examining herself.
"Flat iron," I shrug, she hums in agreement.
"What are you going to do?" She asks referring to my hair that is still a bit damp from my late shower. I shrug again, not sure yet.
"I was thinking maybe loosely curl just the tips and let the rest remain natural," she suggests. "You have naturally good hair, babe," she assures with a wink reading the uncertainty on my face.
Nothing more needs to be said before we both get to work on our hair. I start off by applying a heat protectant to my hair while Mercy goes plugs in the straightener and curler.
"Those smokey eyes are going to look so bomb with that dress of yours," she squeals excitedly re-examining her masterpiece that is my face, almost bouncing on her feet.
"Hold the fuck up!" She yells abruptly with wide alarmed eyes and a tense stance. I frown.
"What?" I demand.
"We didn't take pictures yet!" She rebukes facepalming herself before going at fetching her phone followed by filling our wait for our appliances to heat up by the flashing of her camera and one pose after the other.
"We look so fucking good!" She squeals. "Wait till we have on our dresses and complete look," she adds with a beaming smile that I try to reciprocate.
Once the make-up is done the hairdressing part goes by fairly faster, mostly because we decide to keep it to a bare minimum. We slip on our dresses--Mercy having to help me out a bit with my backless dress that has some strings lacing it up there.
Finally satisfied with our looks, we take a few selfies in my full-length mirror and lounge for a bit longer in my room as we wait for Graham and Mason to text us that they're leaving to pick us up.
"So?" Mercy asks for her spot at my bay window, I raise my brow in question. "How's it like living here?" She asks, I shrug.
"You have a good view, I'll give you that," she remarks. "But how are you adjusting with them?" She inquires. I smile at her concern.
"They're nice," I nod. "Mostly," I add under my breath.
"You know our school is a good thirty minutes drive from here, right?" She points out and I nod.
YOU ARE READING
My Champagne ProblemsMystery / Thriller
Olivia Hart doesn't know what hits her when with short notice her mother decides to remarry. Overwhelmed by the fast-pace of events it slowly hits her that with this sudden change her mum not only brings with her an extravagant new title of Mrs. Rya...