BEAUTY SALON
YOU’LL BE SO HOT, YOU’LL BURST INTO FLAMES!
The longer Aru looked at the sign, the brighter the mehndi version of the first key glowed. Beside her, Mini wiggled her fingers.
“Is your map glowing brighter? Maybe it works like a homing device…” said Mini, poking at the “sprig of youth” design on her wrist.
“Only one way to find out,” said Aru. “We have to go inside.”
Mini gulped loudly, but nodded, and they made their way to the salon.
Light rippled around the edges of the storefront. It looked like a year-round Halloween store, with a few stray ghost decorations on the window and a rotting pumpkin by the entrance. Masks of screaming women hung from the roof. Their elongated faces and gaping mouths reminded Aru of that Edvard Munch painting her Art teacher had once shown the class.
“This place feelsoff,” said Mini, pressing closer to Aru. “And do you smell that?”
She did. A sharp, acrid scent, like overheated rubber or charred leaves. She wrinkled her nose and covered her face with her sleeve. “It smells like something was burned,” said Aru. “Or…someone.”
Mini made little goggles with her hands and pressed her face against the door. “I can’t see anything,” she whispered.
The door was a dark mirror. Aru wondered if it was a two-way one that let people on the other side see you while you only saw your reflection. Aru had learned about those the hard way. Two weeks ago she had looked in the mirrored door to the teacher’s lounge to see if there was something up her nose. A teacher had coughed quietly on the other side, and said, “Dear, you’re free of boogers. Trust me. I can see quite clearly.”
Aru had been mortified.
But now she didn’t feel mortified. She felt a strange twinge of cold run up and down her spine. The air crackled and popped like logs in a bonfire. The hairs at the back of her neck lifted.
A light shone from her pajama pants pocket. The Ping-Pong ball was glowing.
Engraved on the door was:MADAME BEE ASURA, HEAD STYLIST.
Aru knew that name. But why?
“Boo, when we open the door, you can’t act like, well, yourself,” said Aru.
“And what is that supposed to mean?” retorted Boo.
“You’ve got to act like a pigeon! Or you’ll blow our cover.”
“You want me to stayoutside?”
“I’ll prop the door open,” said Mini. She pulled a piece of biscotto from her backpack, crumbled it up, and threw it on the ground. “Here ya go, birdie!”
“I. Do. Not. Eat. Off. The. Ground.”
That bitter taste of smoke filled Aru’s nostrils. “I. Do. Not. Care,” she whispered back. “Now stay here and be a good pigeon while we investigate.”
A bell jingled as Aru opened the door.
The girls slipped inside. Mini left the door slightly ajar, so Aru could see one beady pigeon eye peering through the crack behind them.
The room was a bright lapis blue. Aru touched the wall gently and found it cold and hard. It was made ofgems. Panels of mirrors formed the ceiling and floor. Big, comfy salon chairs lined the walls. But instead of a mirror in front of each chair, there was a portrait. Each one was of a beautiful woman. And yet…they didn’t look very happy….
Because they were frozen in the middle of screaming. Just like the masks on the roof.
The line of salon chairs seemed endless. There had to be as many as seventy pictures of screaming women.
“Nope. Nope. Nope,” said Mini. “This doesn’t look right.”
“How can I help you girls?”
