Superior

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Aisa

"Fatima, it's really not necessary," I protested as she half pushed me towards her dorm room, certainty in her expression.

"Yes, it is," she argued back. "Look, today is the Opening Gala. You need to look perfect. Right now, you look as if a monster chased you in your sleep or something. That is not the look we are going for today." She threw open her room door, shoving me inside and following in suit. The door slammed behind her as she looked me up and down, from my now messy hair, the shadows under my eyes, and my bitten nails.

"Don't you also need to look perfect?" I demanded. Why was she fussing about me so much?

"Please. I can get ready in a flash. You, on the other hand," she crinkled up her nose. "You are in desperate need of a makeover. Besides, you spend too much time with those boys anyway. A lady like you can only take so much of those men," she sauntered towards her dresser which was practically exploding with makeup and hair products. A huge mirror, fringed with golden swirls, leaned against the white wall, surrounded by various lotions in all different colors. Glass jars lined the edges of the dresser, each filled with a different thing beauty product; each was almost filled to the top, some accessories even spilling out. Numerous other items were jammed into the dresser drawers-most of them were half open .I gawked at the sight. How could she even afford this? The dresser was jam-packed. My feelings must have shown on my face, because a giggle escaped Fatima's lips.

"You need some more girlfriends, Aisa. Do not worry, I have you covered. Sit down," she ushered, urging me towards the chair. I stumbled and gripped the cushiony chair in the last minute, gently settling into the plush material. I could tell there was no point in arguing with her further. Fatima had made up her mind; she was going to help-ahem, force- me to get ready for the gala, whether I liked it or not.

Fatima clicked her tongue, like a mother disapproving of her child. She studied me again, probably wondering where to start. I had to admit, I was a mess.

"Let's start with your hair, shall we? We can find your dress in the end." She paused for a moment, and then, as if she had a second thought, added hesitantly, "You do own some good dresses, don't you?"

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. I had gotten into the Superiot after all, even though I had really only done well on intelligence.

"Fatima, of course I have some dresses. Ones that I haven't worn before." I didn't mean to, but my voice came out harsher than I expected. At this, her face settled into her earlier mask of calm and confidence- but also a hint of (fearful?) apology.

"Of course you do. I'm sorry. You just spend so much time with Raiker and Zander."

"Raiker?" I asked, confused. I didn't spend that much time with Raiker, did I?

Fatima had started to run a brush through my hair, de-tangling it. It was surprisingly painless. She let out a chuckle.

"You don't even realize it, do you? That just makes it cuter." She smiled, mostly to herself. A brush of annoyance swept over me. Was this some kind of joke?

"What cuter?" I knew I was asking too many questions, but I couldn't let her laugh about me without knowing what the topic was. That's when I felt the pain. I tilted my head slightly to the side and caught a glimpse of her using some sort of heating instrument on my straight, blonde, boring hair, deftly placing an innumerable amount of pins and clips onto it. I could feel them poking into my scalp.

"Oh nothing. You'll figure out soon enough, I hope. Anyway, what do you think?" She asked, gesturing for me to look in the mirror. I did, and couldn't hide my astonishment. She had put my hair up in an elegant braided updo. My hair looked tons softer and smoother, showing no signs of split ends. She was seriously talented.