Am I Pretty Yet?

Chapter Five

This chapter was edited 07/28/16.

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Richel's vanity was piled with makeup cartons of all kinds: thin tubes of smooth foundation, square and circular bottles of perfume, compact pressed powder and different shades of blush with names like Crimson Rose and Beachy Peachy. My eyes ate it up.

"That's for later, I promise," Richel said, smiling. My eyes pondered around her room, taking in the old record player sitting on a stand in a corner and the blue ethereal curtain surrounding her bed. It was like she was a princess living in a castle bedroom. "For now, we're going to work on how you're going to answer the questions they'll ask you during your interview."

"What kinds of questions will they be asking me?" I asked, chewing on my bottom lip. The last time I had been interrogated was by my mother. I'd been outside. I was eight. It had been my birthday. I'd waited, standing beside our mailbox, for my father to come. I waited for four hours, even after my mother said he wasn't coming. Back then, I believed in him. I'd believed in a lot of things.

"Simple stuff," she replied, stealing a throw pillow from her bed and throwing it onto the floor. She tossed me one and I caught it just in time before it hit my face. "Like how old are you, what school do you go to, what's your favorite school subject?"

I felt my shoulders sag in relief. "I can answer those," I said, lying back on the throw pillow.

"Okay, so let's begin then," Richel declared, reaching into her purse which sat beneath her vanity and pulling out a folder. She opened it, taking a piece of paper out. "What is your name?"

"Nina."

Richel made a noise with her tongue, and I jumped, my brows furrowing. "You can't just say Nina. You have to state your full name. First, middle, last."

I frowned. "Why?"

"They want you to present yourself in a confident and clear manner. They want to know everything about you."

"Like my full name?"

"Like your full name." She waited, staring at me. I let out a sigh.

"Nina Elena Gregory," I grumbled. Richel shook her head at me, raising her eyebrows. I sighed again, clearing my throat before declaring a little bit louder, "My name is Nina Elena Gregory."

"Better," Richel happily replied. "How old are you?"

"I'm sixteen."

"What school do you attend and what is your favorite school subject?"

"Melway High, and my favorite school subject is Math." Answering these questions was a breeze. It was almost relaxing, even. This was what my mother endured through years and years of beauty pageantry? Questions about herself?

"What do you do in your spare time?"

I froze, my eyes widening as my brain desperately racked through its files, searching for a possible activity that seemed remotely normal and not at all odd. I thought of sports or clubs, but I had never joined any of those things. As much as I had felt invisible on the inside, I had let myself become on the outside.

"Nina?" Richel asked, looking up from her interview paper. "Are you having a brain fart?"

I shook my head, embarrassed. This question should have been easy. I should just say the first thing that comes to mind, and all should turn out well. "Um..." I trailed off, turning to my side and leaning my chin against my palm. "I put soil fertilizer in flower pots."