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CHAPTER TWENTY ONE " SECRET SLUT "
"SHIT! SHIT!" SHE SWORE DROPPING HER HOT CURLERS ONTO HER CARPET AFTER BURNING HER FINGERTIPS.
"You're not supposed to use your bare hands, sweetie." Her mother teased, peeking her head in through her bedroom door.
"I'm in a rush!" Dylan said back, scrambling to grab the fallen curlers and twist them in her hair.
Her mother stepped into the room, pushing Dylan into her vanity stool. "You do your makeup, okay? Let me worry about the hair."
Dylan nodded and instantly relaxed as her mother twirled her hair into each curler with ease. The teenage girl leaned into mirror, inspecting her plain face, trying to find a place to start. She picked up her powder and began to lightly pat her face.
"Will you be bringing us home another crown tonight?"
Dylan rolled her eyes. "I think you have enough crowns. It's not like they mean anything."
"Sweetie," he mother's voice grew fonder. "They do mean something because they meant something to you."
"Yeah, they're just a reminder of how shallow I was," she sighed, frowning in the mirror. "Not like Barb's awards and medals — she was so smart, made you guys so proud. I brought home crowns."
"Don't compare yourself and Barb," her mother brushed a strand of Dylan's fiery hair and then wrapped it around the velcro curler. "You both made us proud. You were our little social butterfly and she was our scholar, we love when you bring home your crowns."
Dylan smiled, her eyes wet. "Thanks, Mom."
Her mom squeezed her shoulders. "Don't mention it."
Dylan swiftly dusted on eyeshadow and blush then painted her lips a deep red. By that time her mother was carefully unrolling her curls. When all the curlers were removed, Marsha Holland smiled and placed a kiss on her daughter's forehead.
"Beautiful." A car beeped outside. "Now, go get your man."
Dylan playfully rolled her eyes and stood up, wrapping her mother in a hug.
"Before you go, let me get a picture!"
Dylan stood at the end of the stairs, posed with a hand on her hip while her father held their camera and her mother cooed. Billy beeped the horn more impatiently this time and Dylan briskly kissed her parents and ran out the door.
She slipped into the low-riding car and placed a kiss on her date's cheek. "Sorry. Mom wanted a picture."
"Yeah, next time I'm letting you drive yourself if you're gonna take so long. Gas is expensive."
"Shut up and drive, asshole."
Dylan walked into the Hawkin's High gymnasium with Billy Hargrove on her arm. New wave and generic pop blasted through the speakers and the wintry decorations made the gym unrecognizable.
