Home Sweet Drama (19 page)

Paige took a deep breath. “Okay. I can do this.”

While she changed, I plugged in a wide-barreled curling iron. Paige had wanted soft waves for tonight. I went through our makeup cases and picked a soft gray eye shadow for a smoky eye and black eyeliner for the corner of her eyelid. Soft, peachy blush would complement her pale skin and with a shimmery gloss, she'd look perfect for the dance. I busied myself with carefully selecting every product. Distraction was key.

I looked up from Paige's desk and she was eyeing herself in the mirror.

“See?” I asked. “The dress looks
beautiful
. I told you it would!”

Paige turned around, smiling. “It
does
look pretty good.
I was freaked that I'd hate it or something and then it would be too late to find another dress.”

“Nope, you're wearing that. Done.”

Paige laughed and saluted me. “Yes, ma'am.”

I tossed her my pink hoodie and she zipped it up over her dress. She sat on her desk chair and I rubbed a light moisturizer over her cheeks. I could almost do her makeup on autopilot since we'd done each other's for several parties and events, but I wanted to stay focused on her.

I dabbed concealer under Paige's eyes and blended it into her skin. A light dusting of powder over her T-zone took away any shine and I grabbed a wide blush brush.

“This peach color always looks amazing on you,” I said. “And wait till we use the eye shadow.”

“But don't take too much time on me,” Paige said. “You still have to shower, get dressed, and I've got to do your hair and makeup.”

I waved my hand. “It's totally fine. I'm just going to run the flatiron through my hair after it's dry and it'll take seconds for me to put on my dress. Then the makeup's all you.”

I was wearing a little black dress I'd bought over the summer for any semiformal occasion—I hadn't specifically picked it out for Homecoming.

I applied a thin line of black eyeliner to the outer corner of Paige's eyes and dusted her lids with eye shadow.

“Be right back,” I told Paige. “I need the hair dryer.”

“For what?” she asked, touching her hair. “It's already dry.”

I plugged it in and held the eyelash curler under it. “Tell you in a sec.”

I blasted the curler with heat for just a few seconds, then brought it back to Paige.

“I read in
TweenStyle
that if you heat the curler, it helps your lashes hold the curl longer.”

“Ooh, cool.”

I curled Paige's lashes and applied a light coat of mascara. After a careful application of barely-there pink gloss, she was ready.

I spun her chair to face the mirror so she could check her makeup.

“Is it okay?” I asked.

Paige's grin gave away her answer. “You're the best, Kiki.”

I loved my makeup-artist name. I was always Kiki and Paige assumed the identity of Jade.

“Let's curl your hair and then I'll get dressed and Jade can do my makeup.”

It took the curling iron only seconds to heat and I clipped Paige's long hair into sections. I carefully wrapped an inch-and-a-half—wide section of her hair around the barrel and let the clamp hold Paige's hair against the iron for a few seconds. I repeated the process through the rest of her hair, making gentle waves. When they'd cooled, I ran my fingers through them and separated them. They fell around Paige's shoulders, making her look sophisticated.

“Thank you so much!” Paige said. She grabbed a hand mirror and turned so she could see the back of her hair. “You're the best. I feel
so
much less nervous now.”

“Good. I'm going to shower and get dressed, then you can do my makeup while my hair air dries a little.”

I took a quick shower, towel dried my hair and pulled on my fuzzy purple robe. I sat in the designated makeup chair and let Jade get to work.

Paige knew how to do my makeup better than I did and I totally trusted her to do whatever she wanted.

“You don't even need foundation,” Paige said. “I think tinted moisturizer and a little concealer will look great.”

“Do it,” I said. “You know what works.”

Paige applied the moisturizer and dotted concealer under my eyes and on a zit that had popped up during the day. Ridic.

She pulled out liquid eyeliner and put a thin line on my top eyelid.

“Every time I try that,” I said. “I always mess it up and have to start over.”

“It's definitely harder to work with than a pencil,” Paige said. “But the line is so clean—I love how it looks.”

She brushed a shimmery silver eye shadow over my eyelids and coated my lashes with black mascara.

“Blush, gloss, and you're set,” Paige said.

“Done,” she announced a few minutes later. “You look so gorg.”

I looked at myself in the mirror—my eyelids were a pretty silver-gray, my lips were coated with sheer pink gloss and light blush made my cheekbones stand out. My curled eyelashes looked flirty and I felt good, despite not wanting to go to the dance.

“Thanks, Jade,” I said. “You never disappoint.”

Paige smiled. “Go dry your hair and I'm going to try on just a few pairs of shoes. I still haven't really decided.”

I shook my head, fake-mocking her. “You know you're wearing the black kitten heels.”

“I
think
I'm wearing them. I have to try my other ones more time before I decide. What're you wearing?”

“Ballet flats,” I said. “My silver ones.”

I walked into the bathroom and took my time drying my hair. Wearing heels wasn't worth it since (a) I wasn't going to dance with anyone and (b) I wasn't going to hurt my feet for something I didn't care about.

Once my hair was dry, I pulled it into sections and flatironed it. It looked great now, but I crossed my fingers that it hadn't gotten humid out or my hair would go from smooth to frizz in five seconds.

I put on my dress and Paige smiled when she saw me.

“You look beautiful!” she said. “That cut is great on you and with ballet flats, you'll look superglam.”

“Thanks. I'll probably ditch my purse for the silver clutch I ordered online last week.”

Paige nodded. “Do it. It'll look great.” She looked down at her feet. “And you were right. I went with the kitten heels.”

“Knew it.” I smiled.

I pulled essentials for the night—lip gloss, phone, compact, and keys—out of my big purse and stuffed them into my tiny clutch.

Paige and I did a final hair check and I tried to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach. This was going to be beyond awkward. I didn't want to stand onstage in the spotlight with Callie, Jacob, and Eric. It was bad enough
that we were all forced to go to the dance, but I definitely didn't want to be that close to any of them. But it was going to be awkward for all of us. I sat at the edge of my bed and put on my shoes, trying to think if there was
any
way I could get out of this. If I pretended to get sick now, it would be too obvious. I
had
to go.

It was beyond unfair that I was forced to go when I hadn't even wanted to be nominated. I sighed, for the millionth time this week, and stood, grabbing my clutch.

“Ready?” Paige asked, her cheeks flushed even through the blush.

“Ready,” I said.

Not.

24

SMILE!

PAIGE AND I WALKED DOWN THE HALLWAY, Paige's heels click-clacking on the floor. We passed Jas's empty room. At least she wasn't here to attend the dance.

Paige and I waved at Livvie, the Winchester dorm monitor, as we passed her office.

“Oh, wait a sec!” Livvie called after us.

We stopped and Livvie appeared in her doorway, camera in hand.

“I can't let you girls leave without a picture,” she said. “It's the first time you've attended Homecoming and I want you to have something to look at later to help you remember this very special night.”

Last year, I'd been too overwhelmed to participate, and Paige had been too busy.

I almost rolled my eyes when she said “special,” but I stopped myself.

Livvie put the camera in front of her and zoomed the lens at us. “Get together, girls,” she said. “And smile.”

Obediently, I placed my arm around Paige's waist and she slung hers over my shoulder. We smiled at Livvie.

“One … two … three!” Livvie pushed a button and her camera flash nearly blinded me.

“I'll e-mail a copy to your parents,” she said. “I'm sure they'll be excited to see a pic of you both in your dresses.”

Paige nodded enthusiastically. “My parents will love it.”

“Mine too,” I said. And they would. They had no idea about any of the Eric/Callie/Jacob mess and whenever we'd talked or texted, I'd told Mom and Dad that I was excited about fall break and had ignored as much talk about Homecoming as possible. I didn't want them to know what was going on—it would lead to endless questions from Mom and Dad and they would only worry.

“And I'll send a copy to the administration office. They like to use photos like these for the view books of students considering enrolling at Canterwood,” Livvie said. She waved us off and we left Winchester.

Instead of chatting, Paige was quiet. I knew that meant
she was nervous. I bumped her arm with my elbow.

“Things are going to be fine with Ryan,” I said. “Don't worry or overanalyze. You're going to be great. Plus, you're
royalty
at this event, Paige. You were nominated for Homecoming princess!”

That made Paige smile. “Omigod, what if either of us win? That would be amazing!”

We approached the ballroom and I looked at her sideways. “Admit it. You just want that tiara.”

Paige laughed. “Okay, okay. I kind of do. It's just so sparkly!”

“Well, when you win it, you have to share. Otherwise, I'll have to steal it from you.”'

“I won't win, but if I do, I'll definitely share. And the same rule applies to you.”

We reached the ballroom and a massive Canterwood Crest banner hung over the doorway. The green banner had the school's name and crest stitched into it. The black railing was trimmed with green and gold ribbon and the usually bright white light bulbs that were in lanterns on either side of the door had been changed to a softer yellow. The glow made the entrance look almost golden.

Paige pulled open one of the glass doors and we stepped into the lobby. We took the hallway that led to
the ballroom and Paige and I halted in the doorway. The massive room with its arched windows, hardwood floors and creamy off-white walls looked nothing like the ballroom I'd seen before. Green and gold were
everywhere.

A green carpet ran from the doorway to the food and drink tables. Gold glitter was sprinkled over the white table clothes. On one table, there were silver buckets with sparkling grape juice and other fun drinks.

The floor had been buffed to a soft sheen and the room had Canterwood Crest posters and crests on the walls. I pulled Paige over to a narrow wall between two windows and couldn't stop staring.

“Omigosh,” I said. “Did you do this?”

The wall had been turned into a collage. It had black and white candid photos of what looked like everyone in seventh and eighth grade. I scanned the pictures—spotting the ones of my friends. A picture of Paige and Geena peering into their mixing bowls in cooking class and wearing aprons made me smile. Nicole, with an arm slung over Wish's shoulder, grinned at the camera. There were shots of Troy, Andy, and Ben laughing in the caf at their table. A photo of the Trio, with their heads together in the Orchard common room, captured them perfectly.

Then I saw a picture of Callie and Jacob. She held his
hand and looked into his eyes, her complete attention on him. Jacob, though, was looking just over her shoulder. They were sitting in the courtyard near the fountain. His gaze was so intense—I wondered what he was looking at.