Speak of the Devil and she shall appear, thought the English major as the bright pink head turned around and fixed her with a hungry look. Oh no. This was not going to be good. “Chelsey,” the manicured harpy purred to her fellow makeup accomplice, “what do you think she would look like with that new shocking purple lipstick?”
Not again, thought Thalia as, once again, Delilah fixed her face in place with one hand and wielded the weapon of choice, the bright purple lipstick, in her other. She swore hemlock could not be more deadly to the bookish demeanor she had cultivated and cherished since middle school. She felt the thick paste smear over her lips and a little of her cheek in a rough movement. Delilah was really having fun with her face now. Maybe she would be satisfied after this single agent of cosmetic chaos. “I think the lime green eye shadow and orange bronzer would go well with this,” her captor crooned. Or not.
But it wasn’t as if this was a new experience for Thalia. Delilah did this to her at least once a week, nearly every time a friend came over with some new cosmetic concoction or she brought home the poison herself. Never mind that the stuff was full of chemicals that hadn’t even been tested for safety. Never mind that you couldn’t express any emotion for fear of smudging when it was on. Never mind that you couldn’t put your fingers on the sides of your face or pinch the bridge of your nose to think without your fingers coming away covered in gunk. No, Delilah never minded these things, and seemed to think that Thalia was crazy for even considering them.
Finally, the other cosmetics fanatic rescued the almost-poet from the world of glorified face paints. “Dellie. That is one of the worst color combinations I’ve ever seen. I mean, it would look great on you with that hair, but she looks so…quiet. We have to get that off her.” Yes! Someone finally got the idea! “Then maybe we should try a more classic look.” And just like that, the cool taste of freedom evaporated.