by Mari Arden
"No," I say, aghast. "I'm not Amish, Nat!"
She winces. "Okay, okay, no need to shout." She blinks up at me. "You wanna wear make-up? Looking good for a hot guy?" she asks.
"More like looking good for some hot women," I answer seriously, thinking about how Alaina and the other girls looked at me. Their faces said everything they didn’t. Nat raises an eyebrow. "It's not like that," I say once I realize how she takes my statement. I hesitate, wondering how much I should divulge. Finally, I sigh. "It's just that the place I work has many pretty girls and I don't think they like me very much."
"Maybe it's because you're quiet in an intimidating way," Nat suggests as she puts her feet to the floor.
My brows crinkle together. "How can a quiet person be intimidating?"
"Quiet pretty girls are intimidating," she corrects. "They're mysterious and men can't resist that." I think about what Pax said last night; about how there's something about me that gets him. Does he see me as "mysterious"?
"I'm not pretty," I say matter-of-factly, watching her get up.
"Not at first," Nat agrees. I blink at the insult. She puts a hand through her hair, but the dark brown locks are stubborn and her fingers get stuck in it. She winces as she continues, "Your beauty sort of grows on people. It makes a person look twice. It's unusual in a weird, pretty way," she concludes. I don't know what to make of that. It's like a compliment and an insult in one. "I can't believe you're letting me put make up on you, Jules," Nat continues excitedly.
"Whoa," I put two hands up. "I never said anything about you putting make up on me," I say. "I asked to use your make-up. There's a difference," I add.
Nat walks over to her make-up case. She looks over her shoulder at me. "Can I do one half of your face at least?" she pleads. Nat sees the look of horror that flashes across my face because she mumbles something unintelligible. She gestures to her cosmetics. "Have at it," she tells me in a dejected voice.
I roll my eyes as I walk over. "Fine! You can help me," I say. Nat squeals animatedly, and I want to cover my ears. I'm already regretting what I just said so I warn her that the make-up needs to be light. "I want to see my face after we're done," I say as sternly as I can.
"Of course," she nods solemnly.
"I'm serious."
"Of course," she repeats. There's a glint to her eye when she pulls out a tube of lipstick. "Do you know how you make masterpieces with your paintbrushes?" Nat asks. She's seen some of my work when I hang it up to dry. "Well I'm an artist with cosmetics. Prepare for my greatest masterpiece."
I squeeze my eyes as something soft and furry touches my face. It tickles at first, but soon the strokes become less invasive.
"You don't need a lot of concealer, but you do have uneven colored skin. Your hair color does a good job of hiding that though," Nat tells me. "How much did it cost to color your hair?"
"Um, nothing." Nat pauses. "I mean, this is my natural hair color," I say. "I've never colored it before."
She balks. "You're shitting me?" She takes a few strands in her hand, letting it fall like a curtain over my eyes. "Look at the highlights! Such a gorgeous color, I'm jealous," she says with such envy that I shift uncomfortably. I've never cared about my hair before, but now I feel guilty like I should have appreciated it more. Maybe even do something other than put it in a ponytail.
"Thanks," I say awkwardly.
She sighs. "Some people are born with all the luck."
I look at the calluses on my hands. I think about all those nights asleep on cots harder than rocks. "Not really." My voice is stiff and I swallow, looking away. There's silence as Nat uses her cosmetic brushes over my face. I watch her through her vanity mirror, and slowly she begins to reveal more of me. Nat lines my grey eyes with black. The colors contrast nicely, making my eyes pop out in a way I'd never thought possible. She paints a soft pink on my lips, and the gleaming gloss gives the illusion that I'm smiling even though I'm not. She brushes a light pink blush over both my cheeks. She attempts to put bronzer over my face, but I stop her. I'm not trying to impress anyone; I'm just trying to fit in.
When she's done, Nat steps back. "You really do have a pretty face," she says as if it's hard to believe.
I shrug. "I guess I hold make-up well," I say, studying my reflection. I look just like me, but a little older. More sophisticated. I smile. Nat grins.
"Them bitches are going to be more jealous," she smirks.
I hope not. I frown. "I don't want them to be jealous," I say.
She shrugs. "It's going to happen." Nat starts to clean her make- up, spraying a cleaning chemical over her brushes. "Where do you work?" she asks.
"Maddie's," I answer, glancing at my watch. Twenty minutes before work.
"Never heard of it. I'll check it out sometime. Come and support you."
I laugh. "Thanks."
I don’t look at my reflection any more. I'm ready.
CHAPTER 11
The walk to Maddie's is a short one. No one is on campus, probably because they're still hung over from last night. I take my time walking around buildings, enjoying the feel of the warm sun on my skin. Soon, the warmth will be replaced with icy cold breaths that will numb rather than comfort. I tug at the backpack straps over my shoulders, tightening them. The pack is large on me, but then what isn't when you're only five feet two?
Soon I reach Maddie's and as always the bright sign is the first thing I see. I open the door and let myself in. There are a few waiters moving about, readying the store for the day. I see a few familiar faces, but they don't stop to say hi. I'm not sure if they can't remember me or if they just don't want to. Either way, I'm surprised I feel a little hurt. I guess I'm really human after all. With an inward sigh, I head through the black employee doors. The glossy wooden floors look just as shiny as yesterday, and I am reminded of the tight ship that Anna runs. I walk up the stairs and hear voices drift from the break room.
"…see her?"
"The new kid?"
I pause.
"Yeah. She's eighteen, but she looks twelve… My kid sister has more curves than her." Giggles follow that statement.
"She won't be making good tips, that's for sure."
"You never know. Some men like their girls to feel like little boys," a feminine voice smirks. More low laughter.
I stand stiffly by the door. Of course, the universe makes it so I walk right into a conversation about me. When have I ever gotten a break from the powers that be?
"…Alaina was pissed. You should've seen the glare she shot…"
"…he… stopped by…"
"Who wouldn't be though? Did you see his…"
The girls suddenly stop, and burst into a fit of giggles. I decide it's my cue to enter. Taking a deep breath, I push the door open, making sure the sounds are loud enough to alert the two girls. I ignore their presence, even when I feel their gazes on me. I walk to the other side of the room, barely noticing the bright sunshine filtering into the space, golden as a yellow daisy. I don't let out a breath until I'm inside the changing room. Thankfully, no one is with me.
I stare at the charcoal-colored lockers, reminding myself for the hundredth time why I'm here. It took Grandma many years to cultivate a network of people who could call her for work. Here in Madison, I'm a new face with no connections, and no way of finding the type of work I used to do back at home. I had no way to show people I was a hard worker. Anna was the only person who took a chance with me. She's my only connection. Usually I work hard so the owners would recommend me to other people. Looking around me, I wonder if I'd want Anna to recommend me to others, not if all the people she surrounds herself with others that are like Alaina and the two girls I just witnessed.
I rub my forehead, suddenly tired even though I haven't even started. Opening my backpack, I take out a key and fit into the lock. Within a second, my locker door opens, revealing clothes that are too big and memories too humiliating to ignore. Alex told me holidays like Memorial Day are the busiest of the ye
ar. I'm going to work looking like a drowned mouse today of all days? I tuck a tendril of baby hair behind my ear, and check the small mirror hanging on the locker door. My face looks calm, smooth. It doesn't show the myriad of thoughts and feelings I have. Maybe that's part of my "mystery".
I call it survival.
I lick my lips. I refuse to show anyone here how insecure I feel. I'm a hard worker and I'll prove them wrong. I'll prove to my destiny that I'm born to do something more than have babies and grow old before my time. Grandma's face appears inside my mind. Other faces rush to the surface too, but I push them away, holding on tightly to her crinkly eyes, and the stubborn square of her chin.
Quickly, I change into the too large uniform. I brought a belt this time, well it's more like a ribbon from one of the boxes I had. If I sucked in my stomach enough the ribbon could go around my waist with a few inches left over for a knot. I slip into the work pants, and hold my breath as I slip the piece of fabric through the loops. Sucking in my breath for several seconds, I tie the ends of the ribbon into a double knot right over the pants button. I slip into the white blouse and carefully button my shirt. The hems are as long as I remembered and I slip the rubber band from my wrist off. I bunch the material to one side and tie it loosely. I leave enough material to tuck the knot inside. If no one looks closely, they'll barely notice the irregular bulge sitting beside my right hip. I check my reflection one more time, not because I care what I look like but it gives me another second to ready myself for battle.
It might not be that bad today, an optimistic part of me whispers. The words sound so artificial and fake that the thought does more damage than good. Forcing my stiff legs to move, I walk back to the break room. I'm not even surprised that the two girls are still there. They look like they've been waiting for me, although one pretends to continue eating. I don't tell her that I can see her plate's been licked clean.
"Hi," both greet as I walk by.
"Hi," I respond, trying not to notice how their skin seems to glow in this light. I probably look sickly pale in comparison.
"You're the new girl, right?" The blonder of the two asks me casually.
I pause. "Yes, just started yesterday." I look toward the door as a clue to them I'd like to leave. They don't take the hint.
"What's your name?" the other one asks.
"Jules," I answer, finally resigning myself to looking at them. I turn around until I face them both. As expected, they're supermodel beautiful with long legs that stretch beyond the table like the tail of a lemur.
"I'm Stella," the one who asks for my name informs. She has a mole above her lip. She's got the same blue eyes and blonde hair as her friend. They look like twins.
"I'm Courtney," the other one offers, staring intently at my face. I nod politely making a move to go.
"So, how do you know Reid?" Stella abruptly asks.
I pause. "Reid?" I repeat, confused. They continue looking at me, not saying more. I want to shake my head at them, but I don't. "I don't know a Reid," I finally say after several moments of silence. They continue to study me as if they're not quite sure I'm telling the truth. After another awkward moment, I decide to leave, making a move to do so.
"If you want to like working here, you should probably stay away from him," Courtney warns me. Her face is blank so I can't tell what she's thinking or why she’s warning me about a guy I don't know.
"Sure," I say and continue walking before they can say more. What is up with these people? I think irritably. Is this what city people are like? They don't say everything on their mind? But as soon as I think the question, an answer flitters into my head. Faces from my past appear and I know this isn't a city thing. Some people don't tell the whole truth. Some people work in the night and use the darkness to hide who they are. My face hardens as I'm reminded of what I came from, what I did. "If I survived them, I can survive this," I whisper gravely to myself.
My worn tennis shoes don't make a sound as I march down the stairs. I'm walking harder than normal because I'm upset but the sounds I make are mere whispers that don't travel very far. I see Anna up ahead, her black hair in a perfect bun. I'm amazed that not a single piece of hair seems out of place.
"Hi Anna," I greet her from behind.
She turns with a start. "Hi Jules." She frowns. "You scared me."
I shrug. "It's the shoes," I lie.
Her eyes narrow a little as she studies me, starting from my toes up to the pants that hang on me like leaves on a willow tree, to my wide shirt, and finally to my eyes. She seems happier when she glances at my face. Maybe having Nat put make-up on me was a good thing after all. Anna purses her lips as her eyes flicker over my body.
"You don't look our best." I notice she uses the word "our best" instead of "your best." She's trying to remind me who I work for, and the image I should represent. Suddenly, I'm a little angry. Is it my fault they don't have any clothes that fit me?
"This is what she gave me," I gesture to myself. "You don't have any more."
A perfect eyebrow raises. "We don't have any more?" She smiles and it looks like a lioness smiling right before it bites your neck. "We are considered one of the fastest growing businesses in all of Wisconsin with plans to go national within five years. We've served businessmen, CEO's, politicians. We've even served the First Lady. We work hard to earn our reputation, and not a single detail is too small to consider. I've worked for this company for twelve years, and I can assure you, we most certainly 'have more'." Her voice never rises louder than normal, but I know she's angry. I feel it emanate off her like smoke from frozen ice.
"It's what she gave me," I say quietly.
"Who?" She doesn't say it like a question.
I don't want to throw Alaina under the bus, not even if she wasn't very pleasant for me. I've always felt a camaraderie with other workers. It's like we're in the same fight; we want the same things. The unwritten code is never snitch on your co-workers, even if they might deserve it.
"I don't remember," I make my voice sound vague. "It was a girl."
"What did she look like?"
I shake my head. "Don't know," I lie. The truth is no one can forget what Alaina looks like. The combination of red hair, alabaster skin, and emerald green eyes are striking to say the least.
"You forgot," she repeats it like she doesn't believe me.
I think about Courtney and Stella. "Some of them look very… similar."
Anna understands what I'm trying to say. That quells her suspicions a bit. "I told you Maddie's has very high standards."
And what am I? I'm tempted to ask. I'm not naive about the way of the world. I have my reasons for wanting to work here, and she has her reasons for hiring me. Somewhere between us are benefits we both reap. I raise my head higher as I remind myself about what a hard worker I am. I'm hoping that will be something hard to replace.
"Let's go back up there and find you something more suitable. You look homeless." That insult doesn't hurt as much today since Alex already told me yesterday I'd make customers lose their appetite.
I follow her, obediently climbing each step toward the break room even though every cell inside me wants to run the other direction. Courtney and Stella are still lounging around, laughing about something that probably has to do with me.
"Girls," Anna nods her head towards them. Instantly their giggles cease, and they straighten, blubbering greetings and avoiding eye contact like we have the plague. Without making a sound, I re-enter the changing room. Anna heads toward the back where I was with Alaina last night. The metallic colored cabinets gleam more sharply this morning. Anna rests her hands on the top.
"You're probably an extra small," she says.
"Small," I correct her.
She ignores me as she opens the top drawer. I see several white blouses neatly folded.
"You're the only extra small we have," she tells me. "Most of the girls are more endowed."
Is that what it always comes down to? My chest size? My face flus
hes a little. I remember Nat's envy about my cleavage. I know they're not that small. Anna picks up the first blouse on top and hands it over to me. The tag reads extra small.
"What size pants? One?"
"Three," I say.
I'm not surprised when she hands me a pair of capris in a size one.
"Why don't you try these on? I'll wait for you outside."
"You don't have to-" I start.
"I insist." She turns to leave. It isn't until she's almost out the door that I realize I should tell her about how I stapled the pants.
"Anna!" I call out.
"Yes?" She turns to look back.
I swallow my throat nervously. "The pants were too long and I almost tripped yesterday. I ended up folding each leg and stapling the folds," I confess softly in the quiet room. Her brown eyes are wide and unblinking. She doesn't speak for a full minute.
"Stapled?" she finally breaks the silence. "You walked around with stapled pants on yesterday?"
"No one knew," I'm quick to say. "We were only serving customers for a few hours." Like five.
She bites her lips as if it's hard to contain herself. "That is not professional. Next time please come speak to me before you make such a stupid decision." Anna's voice shakes a little.
I had to do it. I shouldn’t feel bad about it. I look at the floor, unable to meet her eyes. Will I never fit in here?
"Do you understand?"
"Yes," I answer quietly. "I do."
Quietly, I slip out of my old work uniform and put on my new one. The blouse barely fits. "Barely" meaning the buttons are a millimeter away from breaking. The pants are also snug, so much so that I can't breathe. Quickly, I take it off and put it back where Anna had found it. I drop to my knees, and open the second drawer underneath it. A row of black pants are carefully folded inside. When I see the size three tag, I take the pants out, and slip it on as fast as I can. They feel looser, but still mold to my body enough that Anna won't notice. I leave the old clothes in my locker and walk out the door.
