Page 26 of Scars Like Wings
After dropping my overnight bag next to the door, I gathered the tools I would need for my makeup along with a mirror from the bathroom and dumped it all over a blanket on my bed. Dinah had curled up on my clothes while I was gathering everything, falling asleep immediately. I rolled my eyes, knowing she wasn’t going to be happy when I needed to get dressed, but let her be for now.
Before I got started, I stepped toward Maisie, who was still taking things out of her bag. “Hey, Maze? Do you mind fixing my nails before we really get started? If I style my hair with these, they will snag on my locs.”
“I got you, boo.” I sat down next to her and showed her my hands. She sucked a breath through her teeth. “Holy hell, Byrd.”
Simone turned and immediately cringed at my nails. “Ouch! I don’t know how you can handle that pain!”
“Honestly, once it stops bleeding, it just becomes a dull sting you only feel if you touch it.”
Maisie held a hand over my own, her silver and black rings from her knuckles to her fingertips shining. A mist of purple glitter rained down from her hand. As her magic hit my nails, my room was filled with the smell of nail polish, like I was at the nail salon. Soon, my cracked nails smoothed over to become one again, and my broken ones grew out to the right length. Maisie finished, and I looked at her fantastic work. Moving my hands, I saw the sparkles against the black dance along my stiletto nails like a galaxy swirling in my fingertips. I beamed.
“You always do the best job, Maisie. These are perfect.”
“I know they are,” She winked. “You are welcome.”
I gave her a quick hug before plopping onto my bed. I took my glasses off and adjusted my headband to push all of my locs away from my face. I lifted the mirror to my face and started wiping off my day look with makeup wipes.
Not long after my mother died, my hair had started to change color. My roots, mids, and ends lightened suddenly, as if I had bleached them. I just woke up one day with my curls no longer jet black. Instead, they were a cotton-candy pink. My hair still grew in almost blue-black, but once my new-growth got longer than a few centimeters, it dyed itself. Now, my vibrant pink curls were long, mature locs that went past my shoulders. I loved it. I honestly would have dyed my hair a crazy color, anyway.
Alongside my pastel hair, I had tattoos and piercings galore. I had a rose gold smiley underneath my upper lip, and my earlobes were quadruple pierced with a gold bar straight through the cartilage of each ear. Everywhere except my face, neck, and vagina were covered with tattoos.
My glasses were different now, too. I was still the same height, but I was curvier, plumper. My skin was the same tawny fawn color. I knew my way around foundation and highlighter now, too, so I looked like a Fenty model and could barely recognize myself most days. Tonight would be no exceptionwith my sparkling purple eye makeup, dazzling highlighter, and glossy painted lips. I was a far-cry from the teenager I was all those years ago.
Would my parents know their baby girl, their only baby Byrd?
I rolled my shoulders to get rid of the strange feeling I felt at the question. Tonight was not the night for this! Tonight was for fun, not nostalgia. I sprayed my setting spray and replaced my glasses. I removed my headband and tried to braid my locs, but I was no good at styling my hair. I had always struggled with it, even when I was natural with an afro. Instead, I took half of my hair, made a bun on top of my head with some locs framing my face, and left the rest down. I added some gold hair jewelry for some extra razzle-dazzle before getting up to get dressed.
I took off my clothes from earlier to put on my chosen outfit. Dinah yowled at me as I picked her up and moved her elsewhere on the bed. Being the diva she was, she leapt down and jumped into the egg chair.
Rolling my eyes, I jumped into my lacy leggings first before wiggling into the leather miniskirt. I pulled my thigh-high boots on next and topped it off with my vintage Paramore shirt that I had cut up and cropped myself. My obsidian pendant rested against my chest, the perfect accessory, as always. My heeled boots clicked and clacked as I made my way over to admire my look in the mirror. There, I saw how the skirt hugged my curves and fupa in all the right places and even managed to slim my stomach down a bit while making my ass look even fatter. A tiny slit in the skirt graced my right thigh, providing even more of a tease. My face was fierce, going wonderfully with the whole outfit, and my boots added a few inches to my height. In essence, the whole look was perfection.
“Girl, that ass looks so juicy I could bite it,” Maisie complimented, applying dark-almost-black red lipstick.
“We all look so fuckingah-maze-ing! We have to take pictures!” Simone squealed, her half-up and half-down evergreen ponytail and beach-waves bouncing with her like seaweed ricocheting off the ocean waves.
We took some selfies and pictures in my mirror and bathroom before Maisie’s magic grabbed our overnight bags from the room. As soon as Everett and Thompson saw us from where they sat at the cleaned counter, I realized that while I couldn’t be more obsessed with looks, Thompson could, with his mouth agape and excited applause.
Laughing and soaking up his compliments, I was awash with pure excitement. My smile was easy, and I didn’t have to force it. Maybe it was the shitty day or the confidence this sexy outfit gave me or being fueled by my guncle’s and his boyfriend’s praises, but I actually couldn’t wait to see what this night would have in store.
Partly Sunny or Cloudy
In one mile, you will arrive at your destination.
The GPS said before allowing Beyoncé’s “XO” to fill the car again at its previous blaring volume. I turned down the music to see the road a little better in the dark. The road was a freshly paved, winding two-lane back road with brilliant streetlights along it. The grass was well-maintained, clearly well-cared for by someone with a lot of money or a lot of time.
Maisie, Simone, our overnight bags, and I all had piled into my SUV. The ETA read well over an hour. So, the three of us had spent the car ride belting out whatever came on Maisie’s fantastic roadtrip playlist. I was surprised that we weren’t hoarse from singing with our full chests.
“Dude, are you seeing these houses?” Maisie pointed out the bougie houses. “Their kids definitely didn’t have to pay for college.”
“You know what’s crazy? These houses are middle class compared to the mansions hidden behind the trees. The further from the road a house is, the more of a McMansion it is.”
In half a mile, the destination will be on your right.
“Well, I hope your little hypothesis is correct, Byrdie. I’m seeing fewer houses and more trees. Simone, are you sure this guy is real? I would like for my friends to not beGet Out’ed.”
Simone burst out laughing from the back seat. “Shut the hell up! Cole is very real, and we are totally safe. I looked up the mansion on Zillow beforehand. It’s huge, and I saw plenty of comments on its Instagram and TikTok about the parties that happen there.”
“Thehousehas an Instagram and TikTok?” Maisie and I exclaimed at the same time. I continued, “What in the rich, white nonsense is this? Are they going to turn us away at the door when they smell Maisie’s student loan debt?”