Genius

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

That girl in the mirror

I wake up in a tiny bed in a cramped room next to a snoring lump named Gwen. There is another, not snoring, lump on the ground that I assume to be Alan. I sit up quickly. And then the nausea hits me.

I race out of the room and into the hall, thankful that an open door on the right turns out to be a bathroom, before throwing up in the toilet. It feels like a bunch of dwarf miners are pickaxing the nerves behind my eyes and bile stings my throat. This is certainly not the most pleasant morning. Soft footsteps alert me to someone else's presence and a sigh leads me to believe that that someone is Alan. He gathers up my hair, holding it back, while I hunch over the ceramic seat, feeling rather miserable and finally understanding what it means to realize you made a terrible decision.

Once I'm done Alan stands up, "I'm going to get you aspirin and water. Wash your face, you'll feel better."

I nod, slowly getting up (to avoid the nausea) and splashing the cold water in my face. When I look at my reflection I'm a mess, not so hot (as Gwen says). The black she lined my eyes with has run down my cheeks and my eyes are smudged with an array of colors, while the pinks she smeared onto my lips have migrated across my face and managed to leave a streak all the way to my ear. I wash my face more vigorously, eager to remove Gwen's "artwork", and when I look up a second time my face is clean but there is another face next to it. A little girl's face.

I scream. She screams. We scream. Gwen screams at us to shut up. My headache intensifies.

"Isa," Alan calls, "It's just my friend, she may look horrific right now but she doesn't always look like that, so please stop screaming."

"Oh, you're his sister. I thought you were a small demon, or a ghost child. How come your hair isn't like his?"

"Alan straightens it for me, he also braids it sometimes. Why are you in my bathroom?" She twirls around a little, reminding me that I am in a dress still. A dress that has come undone at the top and is slowly slipping down.

"Because I made a horrible decision to drink punch that wasn't punch last night. I'll be back." I tell Isa before going back into the room and picking up a hoodie from the floor, I zip it up over my dress before going back to the bathroom.

"So is that why were you vomiting in our toilet?" Isa asks,

"Yes, I'm sick. Let me braid your hair."

"Why would I let a hangover weirdo braid my hair?"

"Because I'm good at it."

"Okay." Isa shrugs.

She walks over to me and sits down obediently so I kneel on the floor and begin to braid her hair. I often braid my hair so hers isn't really a problem, I do a intricate fishtail before tossing it over her shoulder so she looks like a fancy princess child. She looks at her hair appraisingly in the mirror,

"Alan is better at braiding then you." I open my mouth to protest but Alan appears with the medicine and water so I decide to take the aspirin and feel better before arguing with his little sister.

"Alan, braid my hair, I want to prove I'm better at braiding than you."

"Allie, your friend is weird."

"She calls you Allie?' I give him a look, feeling considerably more warm and fuzzy now than I did before. "That's cute." Alan blushes lightly, only a slight pink dusting his cheeks this time.

"Sit down so I can braid your hair." He sighs and I do just that. He begins to braid my hair, softly separating strands and never once yanking any hair out of my head like I so often do to myself.