Ticktock Love

[11] Never Been Ditched

I had never been a scaredy-cat. In fact, having said yes with enthusiasm before my mother could have stopped me, I had once held a baby Burmese python at Snake Farm Zoo in Texas. I watched in fascination as the snake constricted around my scrawny arm, its caramel-colored blotches patterned like a beehive, its scales dry and almost warm against my skin. I didn't for a second think it would hurt me. Mom, of course, wasn't so elated - she barely restrained herself from yanking the reptile away.

There were worse things than snakes. Seeing Grace bring an eyeliner pencil dangerously close to my eyeball helped me reach that conclusion.

"Are you sure I need this?" I whispered, reflexively leaning backward in my armchair as if she was wielding a kitchen knife.

Grace wasn't having it. She removed the cap and handed it to Amber, keeping her arm extended like a protruding, naked chicken wing.

"Eyeliners are sexy and elegant," she clarified as she applied a precise, thin line. The roots of my eyelashes tickled, but I didn't dare to complain and face her wrath if she ended up making a mistake because of me. "I'm using the pencil sort so it won't be so bold."

"I just wanted you to recommend me a lip gloss," I groaned, still flattening the decorative pillow between my fidgety hands. Its sequins had already left indentations in my palms, rows of tiny half-moons which were reminiscent of perfect bite marks.

My friend completely ignored me. Instead, she expectantly reached out her right hand to Amber.

"Primer."

"Here."

"Easy Baked Eyeshadow."

"Here."

"Scalpel."

"Wait, what?" my eyes tried to widen, but Grace's pincers refused to let them.

She crouched until she was at my eye level, which wasn't very low to be fair. "If you dare blink now, you'll have to wear an eyepatch on your first date. Are you sure that's what you want?"

Here's a semi-random confession: I was sometimes terrified of Grace.

"Aye, aye, my Captain," I murmured, unexpectedly haunted by the image of Robin Williams wearing a goatee and prancing on the Black Pearl with a big jar of dirt.

She gave me another glare before continuing her services. "Don't be a smartass with me. I'll make one of your eyebrows thicker as punishment."

"Nah, do that for her second date," Amber chided in, swiveling on my ergonomic desk chair. "Then she can test if it's true love. The first one is way too early."

She knocked down my Wolverine mini bust by accident.

"Stan Lee hand-signed that one," I complained, resorting to a mere side-eye. My mouth was stuck open in the shape of an 'o' as Grace put on my mascara.

"Relax, it's totally fine."

"Done," Grace exclaimed, stealing my attention once again.

The whole magic had taken her five minutes tops. Although suspicious at first, I nearly did a double take when she handed me the mirror. A gorgeous teenage girl with cerulean eyes and long, coffee-bean hair looked back at me, her cheeks rosy and a fresh glow present on her face.

I looked like myself, sure, but an enhanced me. A runway-model me. A me which had been born with champagne-colored eyelids and puckered-up, kissable lips.

"Grace, I'm pretty sure you're a witch," I whispered in awe.

"Nope. You're just hopeless with makeup." She snapped the eyeshadow lid shut and put it back in her baby pink vanity case. "We have a more important matter at hand, though. What shoes are you wearing?"