Exotic

~ meet the parents ~

I spent Sunday moping, because Aaron was dodging my calls. He'd sent me a pre-emptive message letting me know Max and his nose would be fine for the most part, and then preceded to let me go to voicemail all day.

Aaron wasn't going to tell me I'd disappointed him, but the cold shoulder was new. He usually gave me the chance to grovel and explain myself, no matter the circumstances. Granted, my explanation was likely to be more white lies and half-truths, but I didn't like the shift in our dynamic.

Aaron didn't ignore me. Aaron didn't do passive-aggressive.

I'd really upset him.

I spent my Sunday venting my frustrations on my face. I painted my face bare, then pressed my hands in orange paint and cupped them over my eyes. The butterfly effect it created took an hour to dry before I could paint over it with black eyeliner, turning it into a surreal monarch butterfly mask. I traced my lips in a mandarin shade, fixed a sweeping wig over my hairline, and uploading it to Sephora's Instagram with a scathing political caption.

I wondered how my small world would have responded if I'd shown up to Max's game in that getup. I felt it was a shame to wash it off every time, within the confines of my closet. At least my following got to see each of the looks; now cresting a halfway decent 600.

@themagnificent_zsazsa: trump palette ~

I sent the graphic sketch of the look, accompanied by a madame-butterfly gown and six foot wings, (which I imagined I would be able to replicate one day with a metric tonne of fabric and wire once I was making a living wage) to Lauren. She returned with a few stills of her own sketchpad, filled with bold lines and strong figures which matched her personality perfectly. She was good and she knew it; my linework looked positively timid next to hers.

wow, you're good!

I don't need you to tell me that but thanks <3

I considered sending her the real-life imitation, but I didn't know how I felt about an image of Sephora floating around on her phone. Even though Caleb's whole family had seen me in drag, l didn't like to think about that. Steph, for all I cared, could disappear into obscurity. She was besmirching the identity of Sephora Utah.

I thought Monday would bring a chance to make things right with Aaron; but when I approached a familiar lanky figure with wild curls and turned him around, I found Max with a tiny strip of white tape across his nose.

"Miles!" he said cheerily. "Did you know McCaffrey's been suspended? Suspended? They actually did that. And Maya only had to make five or so threats to sue the school and Mr. Troutman individually."

I raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Truman Senior High School prioritising the wellbeing of their students over blatant favouritism. That's a first."

"His dad offered to pay my medical bills twice over if we didn't take it to the police. Aidan's eighteen. He'd be tried as an adult," Max told me. "Even bought up quotes for a nose job and offered to pay that."

"Wow," I exhaled. "Are you going to take it?"

"Probably," but Max's grin was purely sadistic. "I told them I'd think about it. I want make him sweat for a few days."

It wasn't the revenge fantasy I'd always pictured, but kicked from the team, replaced by the guy he'd sucker-punched, suspended with a lawsuit hanging over his head and his sister was still in love with Maximillian Sanchez? It was the kind of humiliation Aidan deserved, and he'd bought it all on himself. "Where's Aaron?"

"He had a migraine this morning," Max's expression didn't give anything away. If Aaron was lying, he wasn't making Max do it for him. "I think he's stressed about mid-terms. He yelled at me this morning. He's never done that before."