The Dating Game

Chapter Twenty-Six

Juliet

"He's going to die when he sees you," Michelle breathed, gushing as she clasped her hands together in conquest.

Both Michelle and Beth were adamant to do my makeup, hair and attire. In the end, I was wearing black, ripped jeans that were waist-high and a cropped jumper which ended just where the waistband of my jeans began. It wasn't a knitted jumper, but it was as good as. Michelle has bought a leather jacket recently in town, too and she was letting me borrow it. Because of Michelle and Beth's similar clothing taste, both were wearing tight, shiny leggings, a top you couldn't even see because they were wearing parka coats to cover their attire.

But when it came to hair, Michelle wore hers up – "in case it rains or is very windy," she explained. Beth had pin-straight hair so it seemed longer than ever. Michelle and Beth had curled my hair slightly but then ran the straighteners over it to soften the curls so it was more like waves again.

And ultimately, it was makeup to finish off the spectacular outfit. Michelle had given me light green eye shadow to bring out the colour of the cropped jumper I was wearing. My lashes were enhanced with mascara, accompanied by a touch of eyeliner to make my eyes pop, too. I had a subtle lip-gloss (which by the tingling I was experiencing, knew it was doing its job to plump my lips more) on to keep my lips moist rather than dry – and for the additional plump. Whilst Michelle was doing the finer details, Beth's objective was to do the foundation and blusher. Naturally, the scars I've acquired from having spots over the years were now disguised.

"Finished!" exclaimed Michelle, plopping back onto my bed on her back, in prior to sitting up straight and ruffling her hair to perfect it once again.

"I'm still putting on my Coke lid necklace and material bracelets though," I compromised, picking them up from my bedside table and slipping them on. Neither Michelle or Beth had any objections as the bracelets remained hidden beneath the borrowed leather jackets and the necklace was tucked into the jumper.

And on that note, without further ado, we slipped on our ankle boots with our heels and made our way downstairs. Dad was by the stairs with a camera and asked if he could take a few pictures. Despite my mortification, both of the girls concurred and we posed with one another for a few until he finally let us depart – until he joined us by the car and gave us a lift to the school.

"I think he's becoming senile," I explained, ambling to the car.

"Nonsense," scoffed Beth, "he's still somewhat young."

"Somewhat," interjected Michelle.

Dad let us girls gossip in the back of the car – but that was mainly due to Michelle and Beth with their participation and my lack of thereof. He pulled up onto the school car park and we immediately jumped out, not forgetting to thank my dad for the lift.

"Thank you, Ian," Michelle and Beth chorused. Dad made them call him Ian long ago rather than sir or Mr. Royal.

"Thanks, Dad."

"You're welcome, girls. And just call me to pick you up, okay?"

"Will do."

Closing the car door, we all turned to the school. From the exterior it seemed standard, but as soon as we entered, we were greeted by some stragglers strolling up and down the corridors and an excessive amount of streamers, posters and other obscenities that have been deemed acceptable decorations. Needlessly, this school thrived off their exaggeration for even the simple things; an example would be the state of the lunch hall with the tables.

In the main school hall, there were several mini stalls and small food stalls. There were also decorative items that in case the weather was to degenerate abruptly, the products would not degrade in appearance and functionality. This fair, for once, had been well-thought out. I was just more than happy for to have broken up from school for Christmas break, anyway that I was barely concentrating on the intricate details of the stalls.