Free Finding Home by Lauren K. McKellar Page B

longer, but at least I’d found a way to work with Coral without running the risk of punching her in the face.

Chapter Ten
    Getting ready took time. Normally, I was all for the jeans and singlet look, but tonight was different. I wanted to look good. I wanted to impress Luke, to be the kind of girl that he would want to be with. But not like Coral , I thought, as I skipped past a short black skirt. There was no point in comparing my wavy brown hair and pale skin with her dead-straight blonde locks and golden glow.
    Instead, I opted for a pair of black jeans and a black cowl neck top. The fabric shone under the light, sending off tiny sparkling spirals as I walked. Sure, it was still just jeans and a top, but it was hot. Definitely going-out worthy .
    I went to Lou’s bathroom and tried to remember what I’d seen Jade do several weeks earlier when she’d applied her eye make-up. Unfortunately, Lou’s colour palette was different to Jade’s, so I didn’t really know where to start. I picked up a tray of eye shadow, with greys graduating all the way through to blue. I had no idea what shade to choose.
    I tried to think of my Mum and what she would wear. I closed my eyes, trying to remember the last time we’d gotten ready together.
    Why can’t I remember?
    I decided to start with something smaller. Think of her face when she laughed , I told myself. Her eyes. Her voice.
    My mind was blank. I could see her face smiling, but it was as if I was looking at a photo, not a memory. Or was it a memory? How could you even tell? All I knew was that it was static.
    I could imagine her voice, but only saying certain phrases. I couldn’t think how she’d sounded telling me how to do my make-up. I could almost hear her calling my name, but only in certain tones, as if she was singing it. Singing…I could remember singing along with her to a host of different melodies in the car. Her voice had been gentle and lilting, like silver.
    But there’s nothing else.
    The pain started, rippling through my gut like it was made of the same flimsy material as my top. I doubled over, grabbing my stomach, tears suddenly spilling from my eyes. The ball of hurt was big, bigger than I could control. The pain was too much.
    My face was wet with tears that I hadn’t felt coming out, and a primal roar came from my throat. Every breath took effort; the pain was all-consuming. It was weird to think that before Mum had died I had thought I was sad. I hadn’t known that sadness could physically hurt you, could ache and sting like someone was attacking you, stabbing you.
    My misery poured out of me, echoing through the empty house while the clock ticked and time passed by until I’d collapsed on the bathroom floor. The tiles felt cool against the heat of my face. It was nice. Soothing.
    I cried until the tears wouldn’t coming anymore — ugly, big, heaving sobs that wracked my body. Thank God I was going to the party tonight.
    I needed a drink.
    * * *
    I finally got up off the floor and splashed some water on my face. I didn’t know how long I’d been lying there — minutes, hours — but I did know that Lou would be back from work at six, and I couldn’t risk being here when she got home. My tears were private and weren’t hers to share.
    Now I really do need the make-up , I thought, looking at my red eyes and scarlet, patchy skin. I rifled through her drawers until I found something that looked like green lipstick. I remember seeing Mum using something like that before, to even out the redness of her skin after a big night out. I drew some across my cheeks and nose, big stripes of mint, and started to rub and blend. To my great surprise, it worked. The green took away some of the fire and made me look a lot more like myself, if a little sick.
    Then I found some bronzer, which I promptly dusted all over my pale skin. It was a bit dark, but I figured in the evening light no one would notice. I was trying to decide between two different shades of