𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐔𝐬

♡︎9♡︎

(A/N: Sorry I meant to upload this on Tuesday but was so busy I forgot and remembered today. Here it is, tho enjoy! :))

That night in my room I stared at the girl in the ad some more. Makeup wasn't so bad. It wasn't practical with sports- sweat and makeup did not mix well- but I'd worn mascara on occasion. And ChapStick was my best friend. The extra money helping Nemuri out with this project sounded great to put a dent in what I owed my dad so I could quit this job faster. But there was no way I'd come home with my face caked in the stuff. I'd never hear the end of it. I sighed and shoved the ad in my desk drawer. 

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I walked into work Thursday, set the pamphlet on the counter in front of Nemuri, "It's not waterproof, right?"

"What?"

"The makeup. I want to be able to wash it off easily when I'm finished." 

"I bet your mom would love to see you all made up."
This was why it wasn't good to lie. I'd honestly thought the subject would never come up again. This was way worse than the pity looks she would've given me. I shrugged.

She looked back at the ad. "It will come off easily with a good face wash."

I nodded slowly, still not sure I wanted to do this. "And I won't have to talk?"

She threw her hands in the air in an excited gesture like she thought I'd make up my mind. "No. Just a canvas. It will be great. She'll do the first class this Saturday morning." She pulled a form out from beneath the counter, proving she knew I would agree. "Because you're underage, I need your mother- well, either of your parents- to sign this consent form. For liability issues. Mina isn't licensed, which is why she isn't putting makeup on anyone but you during the class. And also, I'm not worried about it, but if you have some sort of allergic reaction, this says you won't sue me." 

I nodded and took the form, my eyes scanning over the words but not reading them. 

"You should tell your mom to come watch."

Every time she mentioned my mother, my stomach tightened. I should just tell the truth and get it over with. Instead the words "My mom has to work Saturday so she won't be able to make it" came out. My mouth had a mind of its own lately. I held up the form. "But I'll get this signed." 

"Sounds good. Let's get to work." 

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

That night I couldn't sleep for two reasons: one, because I hadn't run, and two, because the paper that I had forged my dead mother's signature on screamed at me. It sat in my desk drawer, yelling at the top of its lungs. I should've just asked my dad to sign it. He would've. . .probably. After asking lots of questions. 

I remembered one time my dad came home with a bottle of conditioner and put it on the desk in front of me. "Do you need this? Rumi at work said you might." I stared at the bottle. Of course, I knew what it was, I'd seen enough commercials, but I had never used it before. He had guilt in his eyes like he had somehow failed me. It wasn't his fault he didn't know. It would've been so much easier if he had four boys. I knew that, and I knew he knew that. "No, I'm good. My hair doesn't really get that tangled. But thanks, I'll use it." And I did. I couldn't believe I had lived that long without it.