Clare:
Fiona held up her curling iron upwards against Clare's head for what seemed to be the umpteenth time, shifting from side to side in rhythm with the female vocalist singing on the radio. Perched on her vanity table with Clare sitting in front of her elegant mirror, and after having vehemently insisting that her curls just needed a little extra "oomph", Fiona beamed at her reflection before glancing at the small girl before her.
"And…we're done!" she exclaimed brightly, standing on her feet to allow Clare a better view of herself. She roughly shook an aerosol can full of hairspray, before generously spraying it all over Clare's head.
"It looks nice," she commented, gingerly twirling a loose strand.
"Oh, no, you're not done yet," she said, pushing Clare back down as she tried to get up. With a wicked glint in her eye, Fiona held up an enormous bag of makeup and plopped in on the table. As she zipped it open, revealing the contents of the bag, Clare stifled; she had little experience with any of this, and to say that she was worried would be an underestimation. She was terrified of looking like a clown, and what with her poor self-esteem, Clare was certain that the end result would not be pretty, even if she was under the magnificent works of Fiona Coyne herself. As far as Clare was concerned, the only miracle-worker here was God.
"Could you…not put on too much?" Clare asked tentatively, wincing at how insecure she sounded.
Fiona pouted. "But what's the fun in that?"
"Fiona," she admonished.
"Fine," she sighed dejectedly, screwing the cap of her eyeliner. She thought for a second. "No major winged-out eyes. Can I at least line your eyes lightly, and maybe coat your mashes with a little mascara? You have gorgeous eyes; it'd be a crime not to play them up."
"Would that be it?" she asked.
She frowned deeper, but nodded.
"Then I give you sanction."
"Fine, fine, but you're missing out. Can I dress you up later, at the very least?" Seeing the hesitant look in Clare's blue eyes, Fiona quickly switched tactics. "Oh please, Clare-bear, pleeeease can I dress you up? It would mean the absolute world to me!"
"Fine," she sighed in defeat, crossing her arms as an excited squeal erupted from the girl beside her.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she cheered, grinning widely at her. Clasping her hands together, she struggled to adjust her features so that it was calculating and methodical. Lips screwed to the side, she carefully examined Clare's doll-like lashes. They were already quite long and thick- a gifted Fiona only wished she was blessed with. She sighed enviously as she fixed up the girl, appreciating what natural beauty sat in her very room. Eli had very good taste, to say the least. Even Julia, beautiful, slender, front-page magazine-worthy Julia could never pull off Clare's effortless, innocent loveliness. And yet, in spite of this, Fiona was still unable to fathom the reason for his liking in her- after all, Clare was nothing like him. She was far too pure, and far too naïve to fit into Eli's dark and complex world.
Suddenly, Clare's phone was buzzing in her pocket. Having fun? –Adam
She's doing my makeup. You tell me.
Don't complain. Drew just came into my room and asked me to differentiate between soap and shaving gel. Guess which one he's using for the first time?
Should I worry?
Nah. Just think of his nicks and cuts he'll have in certain areas as revenge for all the times he's licked you. Consider it a gift from me to you.
Haha, right, I owe you one. I'll have to talk to you later tonight; I am required to dress up for the princess this very moment.
Send your majesty all my love.
Will do.
"Adam sends you his love," Clare said, watching her carefully.
"Um, that's great," she mumbled, suddenly fussing over the zipper of her make-up bag. She frowned before perking up again.
"Now, to show you the wonderful world that is my closet!" Fiona bubbled, seizing Clare's wrist and dragging her out of the room and down the hall. With a swift flick of a switch and the opening of a tall door, she gestured her inside, flinging her arms out like a Vegas showgirl. "Ta-dah! These are all the clothes I haven't worn since they came off the rack, so they're spanking new. What do you think?"
All Clare could do was gawk at the endless row of clothes that ran down the ample room, dressing hundreds of hangers with flamboyant prints, sensational colours, and blinding sequins. Everything from faux fur to the most delicate chiffon occupied the very closet, the impossibly wide range and large quantity outdoing almost every mall in the province. For most, the price tag remained attached and neglected, and purely by impulse Clare reached over and looked at the price- immediately shoving the white ticket away when she processed a three- digit number.
"This is…"
"Fabulous? Glamorous? Breathtaking?" Fiona suggested, beaming at her collection.
"All of the above," Clare breathed, feeling very overwhelmed. "Why are you doing this?"
"What do you mean, Clare-bear?"
"Why are you suddenly doing all these nice things for me? I- we don't exactly know each other that well." She said quietly, shyly glancing at her. "I can't accept all of this Fiona, it's too much."
"Any friend of Adam is a friend of mine," she insisted firmly, averting her gaze. "And I'd be more than happy to do this for you. I just want to know the kind of person- the kind of style you have. What you like and dislike and such, because it uh, says a lot about your character. Nothing sinister, I promise you."
"I appreciate the effort," Clare said gently, smiling warmly at her. "But I don't think I'm fit to wear any of this. It's just not who I am."
"But Clare!" Fiona cried, crossing her arms. Her frown slipped into a pout, and within a matter of seconds, the same pout twisted into a scowl. "You think you're too good for this stuff?"
"What? No, of course not!" Clare said, taken aback.
"Saint Clare, pure as her purity ring thinks she's above frivolous partying and silly glittery dresses?" Fiona spat, glaring at her with newfound fire. "Well, I'm sorry that all of this is much too low for your standards, Clare. I didn't expect you to be so picky."
"I'm not implying-"
"I was trying to help you, that's all. But according to all your complaints, none of this is what you want. I get it, Clare," Fiona said icily.
"That's not-"
"A word of advice, maybe you should think about getting off your high horse and learn to be a bit more gracious," she continued relentlessly, waving away Clare's protests with a lazy flick of her wrist. "It's no wonder you're alone all the time. You perceive everything and everyone as inferior to you. I don't know what Eli sees in you."
"He-what?" Clare gaped.
She chuckled bitterly. "Don't worry too much about him, sweetie. He's just using you for his own personal game. Eli's good at playing ignorant little girls like you."
And that was the final blow. Clare was now on the verge of tears, desperately trying to blink through the thin film of wetness forming before her eyes. Her heart, overflowing with millions of different emotions, was ready and ripe for bursting. At lunch time earlier today, she had just dealt with a harsh Eli and a traumatic near- death experience with the careening car. Half an hour ago, she had soldiered through yet another unreasonable lecture from her mom, and now the girl who had all but pointed a gun to her temple and forced her to be pampered pretty on her account was clawing viciously at her self- esteem? What was next, a failing grade in English due to a teacher's careless handling with her assignments? Coming home to realize there was a cancerous cell surfing through her body, slowly causing damages until her impending death? Where was the justice, the fairness? Clare hadn't done anything morally incorrect, hadn't given anyone a reason to punish her. So why were all these terrible things happening to her, for reasons that she weren't responsible for? Clare had a good mind to let Fiona know just how unreasonable and diva-like she was acting, or even give a good ol' fashion slap on her right cheek. It occurred to her that racing out the house was not a bad idea either, and for a moment, all her weight was on the balls of her feet, ready to sprint past her and out the door. That's what any normal person would do, Clare decided, and as tempting as it was to cope with her boiling, building emotions that way, the sensible, bigger part of her overruled all the easy outs. Clare was better than that.
"Thank you for telling me in advance, then. You probably know Eli more than I do, anyway," she said calmly, swallowing deeply.
Fiona looked shocked and unsatisfied, and stepped backwards with a small gasp escaping her lips.
"And I'm sorry that you feel this way about me," Clare went on, handling matters in the most mature way. "But I hope you do understand that I prefer the person I am, and like to stay grounded- I am by no means implying my superiority to what is important to you."
She pressed her lips together, gaze never leaving. This must have been the longest Clare's spoken all at once, and her throat felt oddly dry from all the talking- either that or she was just nervous about the response she was going to get. She anticipated more resentful words, a screaming lecture, or a simple 'get-out' would have even sufficed. She was at her house, after all. Angering the owner probably wasn't the most prudent move, but in her defense, it wasn't done intentionally, and she hoped her argument would be effective enough when she came crawling back onto her mother's doorsteps.
Fiona's reaction was nothing short of unexpected.
"Oh Clare-bear!" she squealed, throwing her arms around the stunned girl. "You past the test! You passed with flying colours, and I'm super proud of you!"
Confusion now dawned on her, and as she pulled away, Clare looked at her.
"I was testing you to see how you would react to my-well, bitchiness," she explained, taking a strand of her shiny brown hair and inspecting for split ends. "It's like the ultimate test to see what kind of character you have. The only other person I've tried it on was Julia, and she blew up in front of my face. Slapped me so hard I couldn't process the sting until she was on her motorcycle riding home."
"Julia?" Clare asked, cocking her head to the side in curiosity.
"Julia is E-"Fiona cut herself off, guilt flashing in her face before she scrambled to recover. "She's just this other girl I knew. Bottom line is, you handle the situation amazingly, and you've definitely earned my respect."
Clare gnawed on her lower lip, unresponsive.
"Oh, please don't be mad at me," Fiona implored, placing a hand on Clare's shoulder. "I just- you would be amazed at how many people use me solely for my money. I needed to know how um, you really are and all."
Fiona's rationalization would have sounded suspicious if it wasn't for how loud Clare's relief was. She was glad Fiona wasn't really upset with her, grateful that she hadn't lost a potentially strong friendship. She didn't register the slight stutter in her voice, or the fact that Fiona was the worst liar in the world, and perhaps, that was best. She would find out why this test was so important in the near future, and that was enough.
For the next five minutes, Fiona and Clare remained in mildly- awkward silence, shuffling through racks and racks of fancy evening wear. Reluctant to break the ice, Clare pretended to have the least bit of interest in what she was doing. Being with Fiona was like walking on egg shells, and she was afraid of setting her off again. In some way, she was kind of like Eli, in the sense that she was so unpredictable. Happy the first minute, angry the next- a volatile pair, the two of them. What on Earth was she getting herself into?
"So, how do you know that I've talked to Eli before?" Clare asked cautiously, curiosity a clear ring in her voice.
"I've seen you talk to Eli," she answered nonchalantly, eyes tightening. "Are you two friends?"
"I wouldn't exactly say that," she murmured uncomfortably. "We barely know each other."
"That's alright. But you should know, that I am quite protective of Eli," she said in a low voice, as if threatening her. "You should be aware of what you're getting yourself into. One mistake, and there are certain people who will make your life hell."
"I…okay," Clare said. Fiona's massive mood swings were starting to give her whiplash, and not only that, but she felt as if Fiona was trying to tell her someone in an indirect way. "Do you…not want me to talk to him or something?"
"I didn't say that," she said hastily, but didn't deny it either. "I'm just saying that you should watch your step, for the benefit of him, and yourself. Anyways, we have an hour to find you something fabulous, so why don't we start with this?"
And before Clare could protest, she found herself facing the walls of a small dressing room, a streak of uncertainty and distress etched across her mind.