Free The Calling by Barbara Steiner

What will you put on her cheek?” Kyle asked.
    â€œChoose, Miki,” Davin looked at her very seriously. “Do you want a spider web, bat wings, or let’s see, a small skull with tears of blood?”
    â€œGoodness, I have to choose?” Miki tried not to laugh. Everyone was so serious about looking Gothic punk, but running around with a skull on her cheek seemed a bit much. “I guess a cobweb. Yes, definitely a web since we’re doing Arachnid.”
    â€œGood.” Davin tipped her face up again and started to draw on her cheek with the same brush he had used for the eyeliner. The hairs tickled, but Miki kept very still.
    â€œOh, Davin, you have to do my cheeks,” Rima stopped and sat beside him. “Primavera can’t draw worth a damn.”
    Miki stared at Rima. She looked ghostly pale and her eyes were huge in her small face. Her mouth glowed with a pout of purple. Drops of red dripped over her chin and neck.
    â€œDon’t you love this color?” Primavera’s lips were the same red. “It’s called congealed-blood red. It’s perfect.” She tipped her head back and laughed.
    â€œBe sure to do your neck,” Kyle called to them. “Nothing worse than having the makeup stop at your chin.”
    When Davin finished Miki, he painted Rima’s cheeks. Everyone came to admire them. He had taken advantage of Rima’s high cheekbones to do a grinning skull with blood dripping from the teeth. He was an artist, Miki saw. But so was Kyle. He had painted a spider on Primavera’s cheek and another version of a cobweb on Romney’s face.
    â€œI’ll put on the base, and you powder.” Davin poured a bit of liquid in his hand, smeared it on both palms and creamed his face. Miki bumped the puff lightly on his cheeks, chin, and forehead, then evened it out carefully. Her hand shook almost too much to line his eyes with the black, but she managed by gritting her teeth together and holding her breath.
    â€œI want nothing else,” Davin said. “I’d look silly.”
    We don’t? Miki thought, but didn’t dare say that aloud. She could hardly wait to see what she did look like.
    â€œHow do I look?” Miki asked, when Primavera had powdered her hair lightly with a silver color. “Don’t you have any mirrors around here? There should be some backstage.” Miki got up to run and find the makeup room. Surely it was in the wings to the right or left of the stage. She realized she hadn’t had time to explore the theater at all.
    â€œLet’s get back to work,” Barron ordered, signaling the fun was over and stopping Miki’s search for a mirror.
    â€œA camera.” Without thinking Miki ignored him. “I’ll bring my mom’s Polaroid tomorrow.”
    â€œI said, we need to get back to work.” Barron’s voice was no-nonsense, “I’m serious.” Miki heard it this time.
    â€œI’m sorry. I just thought—”
    â€œWear it home,” Davin whispered. “Look at yourself once you get home.”
    Miki nodded and ran for the black swing. This routine was to be her first on the trapeze, and she was eager to try it. She put how she looked behind her and concentrated on how she danced.
    A couple of people, including the bus driver, looked at her with curiosity when she started home. Heady with success, she ignored them. The whole area was full of theaters, and dance and acting studios. Surely people who took this bus were used to seeing strangely dressed and made-up people. But then most people took off their makeup before they left the theater. She couldn’t bear to do so.
    Suddenly she had a great idea. Her mother would die if she saw her. She swung off the bus at Paige’s house.
    Fortunately Paige opened the door when Miki rang the bell. “Miki, is that you? Glory, I knew you were mixed up with a bunch of punk dancers. Look at yourself.”
    Miki