Beautiful People | wlw

Two: Fake It

Everyone in the salon was staring at her, but Vera really didn't give a shit. Carmen's message might have been a reprimand but it felt like a challenge. She responded immediately, and stupidly: Yes. I could do better.

She regretted it as soon as she hit send, a wave of anxiety pinching her stomach because she sounded like such a cocky bitch and maybe that was a bad strategy-- but it was too late. Carmen had replied with a crying-laughing emoji.

Cute, Carmen said. You really believe that?

Vera twisted her hair between her fingers. This couldn't be real. It was impossible that she was really DMing with Carmen Juarez, her idol since she had watched that movie about the sad family when she was seven and later her bisexual awakening when she realized most girls didn't crush quite so hard on their favourite celebrities. This had to be a dream. Mona had slapped her for calling that girl fat and knocked her out and this was a really strange, really amazing dream.

Recklessly, Vera said, Of course I do. I mean, you look amazing in anything. You wear the shit out of those boring clothes. You could cut a hole in a garbage bag and wear it like a dress and make it fashion.

I don't know if you're insulting me or complimenting me, Carmen said.

Vera bit her lip. She was overdoing it, being a total embarrassing fangirl, but she had spent years thinking about this and she wasn't about to pass up her chance to say it. Besides, this probably wasn't Carmen at all. Surely an intern handled most of her social. Other than the live stories Carmen posted every time she did something offensive and needed to apologize, of course. Somehow thinking that made it easier to say, I'm just saying, can you imagine if you had a proper style, an image, rather than just, Beautiful Girl And Oh Yeah, There Are Clothes?

Don't call me girl, Carmen replied. I'm not a child.

Something popped in Vera's stomach and all the heart-racing excitement drained as fast as it had come. Carmen fucking Juarez was in her DMs and Vera had pissed her off. She had hoped it might take a little longer than that. Thumbs hovering over the keyboard, she agonized over what to say in response. Should she apologize, or act like it was nothing? What if Carmen was just joking?

"Vera?"

Vera's head shot up. She had almost forgotten she was in the salon. The whole world must have shifted slightly when Carmen fucking Juarez slid into her DMs, because everything looked several shades greyer. There were still customers eyeing her sideways. The blue-haired teenager had shifted two seats away as though embarrassed to be seen near her after the shrieking.

Her hairstylist Saoirse was standing by the counter, one hand on her hip, a bemused smile on her lips. "What the hell did you do to your hair?"

Huffing, Vera pressed to her feet and tucked her headphones into the purse over her shoulder. "It's a long story."

"Is any story ever short with you?" Saoirse laughed and tossed her red curls back over her shoulder. "Alright, who fucked you over this time? Alex again?"

"When is it ever not Alex?" As Vera followed Saoirse over to the sinks, she realized she had actually completely forgotten about Alex and his vindictive tiger photo, too. A smile tugged at her lips. "But I am so fucking ready to stop thinking about him."

Laughing again, Saoirse gave her a sympathetic look. "Girl, I know. At least you didn't shave off your eyebrows like my roommate did. This I can fix."

Vera clutched her phone tightly while Saoirse washed her hair, while she touched up the colour, while she carefully trimmed the hacked edges of Vera's hair. She still hadn't figured out what to say to Carmen, but every ping of a notification sent her scrambling to her DMs. To her disappointment, Carmen--or her social media intern--remained silent. Maybe the novelty had worn off. At least she hadn't been blocked yet.