1980s cut.
Fringe dripping from the arms like shredded midnight.
I touch it and something inside me lights up.
It looks like a punk-rock princess stole it from a biker girl.
“I need this,” I whisper.
“It is very you,” Irene says.
I don’t even check the price.
I spend almost everything I have.
I buy black suede heeled boots next.
Also black.
Dress code compliant.
Dangerous enough to make people stare.
Back at the cottage, Irene pulls me into the bathroom and teaches me makeup.
Coal-black eyeliner.
Soft smoky eyes.
Sharp cheekbone contour.
Matte nude lip with a hint of cool undertone.
European model energy.
Not goth.
Not sad.
Strong.
Untouchable.
Reborn.
When I finally see myself in the mirror?—
I don’t recognize the girl looking back.
Three
LEO
The day after homecoming…
I don’t sleep.
Not for one second.
