and in their place are the sculpted cheeks of Pocahontas, Native American princess. Even though they didnât do anything to my lips, they look different, too, fuller or plumper or something. But maybe my new straight white choppers just make them stand out more.
âItâs so weird, isnât it? My nose is different. And this,â I add, sucking in my cheeks.
âThe doctor said you lost a lot of bone in your mouth. Maybe thatâs what did it. The loss of those front teeth of yours. And the new ones they put inâ¦well, they donât stick out. Plus you lost a ton of weight when your jaws were wired shut,â she says simply, handing me some blush.
This is new, the sharing makeup thing. Before my accident I hardly ever wore makeup. But lately itâs been different. I like wearing makeup. It helps to acquaint me with my new features.
Hello, eyelashes, how long are you today? Hello, cheekbones, there you are!
âNow you need lip gloss,â she says when Iâm done.
I recently came to the earth-shattering conclusion that I canât stand lip gloss. Why would anyone want to put a sticky paste on their mouth? But still, I hand Lucy back the blush and accept the lip gloss. I like to defer to the experts. And Lucy is an expert at applying makeup.
I dab it on my lips as Lucy watches. âGo like this,â she says, smacking her lips together again. So I smack my lips together. Why didnât Lucy worry about my makeup (or the lack of it) before my accident? Was I just too hopeless? (Like painting a toilet. Whatâs the point?)
âPerfect,â Lucy says, smiling at my reflection in the mirror.
Itâs Saturday, and since school starts on Monday, my sister decided that she and I should go out together to celebrate. So even though I would prefer to stay home and watch the gross medical reality shows I became addicted to during my convalescence, Iâm trying to be a good sport. âDo you think anyone we know will be there?â I ask.
Anyone.
Read: Drew. I have thought about him so much this past year. I was able to pry some information about him out of my sister (he and Lindsey dated all year and went to prom together), but she hasnât spoken with him or seen him all summer. I wondered if he ever thought about me or wondered how I was doing, especially when I was scared, like right before surgery, or after, when the pain got so bad I felt like my head was going to explode like the tomato I once microwaved. (In my defense, it was for a science experiment. As in, I will see if the act of exploding this tomato in the microwave alleviates my boredom and/or causes me to go blind. My conclusion: only temporarily.) I would think about Drew and wonder if all these surgeries might make me look good enough to get his attention; that it might all be worth it in the end. And then I would imagine him pulling me into his arms and sweeping me off my feet as he laid a big wet one right on me. And then I would think,
Hell yes. Whatâs a little asphalt up your nose for a guy like Drew?
âNo,â Lucy says. âItâs too far away.â Lucy and I went to this club once before, about six months before my accident. Although she has wanted to go back ever since (sans yours truly), my parents had refused since they didnât want Lucy driving all the way through the city at night and they said it was too far away and too much of a hassle for them to take her. But when Lucy suggested taking me there tonight, they practically jumped up and down for joy, calling it a âgreat idea!â They still didnât like the idea of us driving through the city by ourselves, so they were taking us and dropping us off. They were going to go to dinner, see a movie, and pick us up afterward.
I finish applying my mascara and turn back toward my sister. âAll done,â she says, smiling from ear to ear. She hurries over to the top of the stairs. âMom! Dad!â she