Seventeen-year old first year college student Josie Clarke would prefer not to blush the colour crimson at every little thing, but Idiopathic Craniofacial Erythema, a chronic facial condition doesn't play fair.
In fact, it's as uncontrollable...
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"How you convinced him to go to an after prom party, I'll never know. Or maybe I don't even want to know. Gross." Mel pretends to puke into her hand and Libby follows suit, though it's a struggle for her to both apply mascara and make fun of me.
"Trust me, it's not like that," I say, in my defence. I leave out the part about Maddie inviting me, and that she'll likely be there too. "Max said it might be fun. He actually wants to go."
"Straight into your pants," Libby snorts, throwing her head back to laugh and shoot Mel a smirk, who quickly covers her ears.
"Stop it. Right now." She chucks a cushion from Libby's bed and it hits her back. "This is my disgusting, annoying kid brother we're talking about and I'd really rather not, thanks."
Finishing off her make up and fluffing the hem of her puff ball skirt covered in black glitter, she shrugs. "Someday Josie's gonna be your sister-in-law, you know that right?"
Mel rolls her eyes. I'd be offended if she wasn't grinning. "Unlucky for her."
"Can we stop talking like I'm not in the room?" I say, propping up the mirror Libby's stole from her parents bedroom. "And here, you're going to rip the fabric if you keep doing that."
Libby begins to frown, standing still like a wax statue so I can adjust the skirt and tuck in the rogue laces of the clunky Dr. Martins she's insisting on wearing even though every other girl from her school is going to prom in 'stupidheels'.
"Thanks for helping me guys," she says, half-sincere, half annoyed at the mess we've collectively made in order to help her get ready for the biggest night of her life (at least according to her mum who keeps popping her head in).
After shutting the doors on a wardrobe now full only of hangers and shoving bundles of clothes under her bed, Libby struts in front of the mirror, posing and tossing her wavy and now semi- permeant pink tipped hair (credit to Mel) back for all to admire.
"I'm ready to get this shit show over with," she confidently announces, "and then, we can all party over at Becky's mansion."
Mel packs up her hair dye pots and gloppy mixtures and groans, "Not me. Someone signed me up for the late night shift so I'm stuck there all bloody night."
"Can't you sneak out early?" Libby suggests.
"Can you afford to pay for my tickets to every single one of Fear Less Youth's summer tour dates if I get fired?"
"No..."
Mel sighs, "Thought not. Anyways, don't cry for me, I went to prom before - it sucked and the after party sucked harder, so, like have fun kids!" She sarcastically salutes us both as she heads for the door.
