Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Bending Backward - More!

Keeping you guys happy. Here you go. Gosh, you're so loyal! (This is in April's POV, by the way.)

“HAVEN!” I yell, knocking loudly on her door. “It’s me! Now open up!”
         The door immediately opens, Haven’s untamed red hair glinting in the sun. “Thank god. I need you. Now.” She grabs my hand and pulls me into her trailer.
         “What for?”
         “Costume decision! Duh.”

         “So, pink,” she holds up the pink leotard, “or green?” She holds both to her body, demonstrating how they would look in person. I’ve seen them all though.
         “Green.” I say immediately, “it’s your color.”
         “That’s what I thought,” she says, sitting down next to me on her bed, “but then Mom told me ‘Haven Summers, you always wear that! Now pick something else!’, hence my needing you.” Haven an imitate her mother’s voice exactly, which is both a blessing, and a flaw. It means she can also imitate your voice in a heated argument, making it very hard to take her seriously.
         “She has a point.” I reply, standing up and walking to her closet.
         “April! You’re supposed to me it doesn’t matter!”
         “Haven chill.” I say, searching through the other options in the closet. “Maybe turqoise?” I say, lifting up my other favorite.
         “Hmm…” Haven comes over and inspects the leotard. “Maybe.” She rips of her tank top and jean shorts and pulls on the full body leotard. I zip her up, and then turn her to the mirror.
         “Perfect.” I say, smiling.
         “You always know!” She says, squeezing my hand. “Now, do my hair please!” She plops herself down in the stool purchased just for this.
         “That’s what best friends are for.” I say, and part her hair for a french braid.

         At home, my mom and dad are already dressed, and trying to help me brother into his outfit. So far, they’re failing miserably.
         “April! Sweetie,” I hear my mom yelling, “Could you help us please?”
         “Coming!” I reply, weaving my way through the maze of boxes with already packed items.
         “Hey hon. Your brother is refusing--” my dad starts, but I already know what he’s asking.
         “Got it.” Sebastian is a bit moody when it comes to performances. Most of the time I end up helping him instead of my parents. I can handle his tantrums a bit better. Their efforts always end in anger (them) and tears (Sebastian).
         “Sebastian..” I warned, stepping into the room. He was wearing a white button down shirt and black slacks, holding a vest, but making no efforts to put it on. They had been progressing well.
         “April, please tell them not to make me wear this stupid vest.” He sounds tired, which is never a good start for a performance.
         “You okay buddy?” I ask, sitting down on the chair next to him.
         “Just tired.” He says.
         “All right, “ I ruffled his hair and then helped him into his vest, forced his to wear a belt, and found both of his shoes. “Make up time.”  I say, finding the box in the mess on his dresser.
         “No Ap,” he begged. Sebastian hated the make up, which was understandable.
         “Sebastian. Just let me.” I said, and he didn’t argue.
         I covered his entire face in white powder and layered on black eyeliner. I grazed his lips with red lipstick, which he hated, and then looked back at the product. Decent. I grabbed the black beret off the hook, and placed it on his head.
         “There ya’ go dude.” I say, and smile. My little brother is a mime. Wow. Time flies. I remember when he was just a magician’s assistant. “Now go! I have to get ready!”
         He scoots out the door, bowing in the doorway. “At your service m’ lady.” He says, and leaves.

         I gaze into the mirror at my red firey leotard outfit and red gloves. My hair is piled on my head in a bun, and my make up was perfect. Sparkly eye shadow, eyeliner that was dramatic enough to be seen in the audience, and some mascara. I looked perfect. This wasn’t a date or anything, so it was stage make up. I pulled on my matching red socks and grabbed by flats from the corner.
         “April?” My dad is standing in my doorway. “Wow, my girl all grown up.” He smiles, and then nods in the direction of the front door. “It’s time.”
         I gaze at myself one last time. “I’m ready.”

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