[Highest Rank: #328]
Anna's a normal girl.
Well, at least she wishes she was.
She watched her parents die in front of her when she was eight years old. Ten years later, she's lived her life in ignorance, attempting to regain the childhood inn...
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Valentine has never been so intent on trying to make me look attractive in her life.
I'm not quite sure what's the point – we'll probably just be out for a few hours, talking to a few people, and then come home to look like our normal selves again. The most I know about makeup is eyeliner and lip gloss (and even then, it's a miracle if I don't poke my eyes out). Meanwhile, this girl is tossing all sorts of powders on my face that I've never heard of (what the hell is all of this about primer, bronzer, highlighter ...?). By the end of it, I stare in the mirror and just gape at the reflection looking back at me.
"Who's that?" I ask Valentine, pointing to the mirror.
"Exactly!" Val squeals in excitement, and then proceeds to start curling my normally-straight brown-black hair. "You're going to your first party, Anna. Whenever you do your first anything, you should look pretty." She pauses, as if the statement had sounded a little too suggestive. "Okay, maybe not every first thing, but most of the time. And this is one of those times."
"But we're just going to talk to people, right? I don't have to do anything that requires me to look presentable," I protest.
"Oh, Anna." Val shakes her head disappointedly. "I don't think you understand. You're going to wow people. What does everyone want to be when they're at the party? The life of the party. And that starts with making a grand entrance."
"Val, you're insane," I sigh.
She nods in acceptance. "A little. But I just want you to look gorgeous. I'm not going to take my best friend to her first party without giving her a chance to shine." She flips her hair exaggeratedly over her shoulder. "I mean, I've been in the spotlight for so long, that I think it's time to share."
I roll my eyes at her. Val doesn't have to try to be pretty; she's right. At the same time, does it count if I don't want to be pretty? Being pretty seems to come with so many outside factors that I don't really want to deal with.
"Voila." Valentine motions with the palm of her hand under my chin as she looks into the mirror. "Look at this. It's beautiful. I wish you'd just walk down the school halls like this every day."
"I'd rather do your homework."
"Deal."
"I wasn't suggesting it."
"I was." Val smiles and then steps towards her closet. "Now, to find a skimpy dress –"
I stand from in front of her vanity and shake my head. "No, no, no. I might have let you touch my face, but I'm not going to wear anything that you pick out for me. I've seen you leave for parties before, and none of that is going to happen." Plus, we have drastically different figures, and I am not about to risk wearing one of her insane, strapless dresses.
