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October 14, 2010
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Samantha is a tall and slender model; her hair falls nearly to her waist, in light waves. Light pink washes her checks and a light brown covers her eyes; Although her make up is light and simple, she is know for deep colors and dramatic effects. She wears baggy black pants that fall nearly to the floor, and a tight white shirt; showing off her slim stomach and tiny waist. Her long tan arm reaches for the cords of the hair curler and straightener, she plugs them in- turning them to their hottest temperature. As they heat up, the slight smell of burning hair fills the room; Samantha coughs and cracks open a window; when she coughs her face is stressed, and her tight skin becomes tighter around her high cheek bones. Next, she reaches in the deep black bag set up in the corner; pulling out various hair products and soft velvet makeup brushes. Everything’s ready.
The pale white door flies open with a rush of air; and sort little Shawnee comes in. She’s my best friends in the whole world. A smile is plastered on her face, and her purple and black dress is griped firmly in her hands. She sits down on the leather seat; it’s her turn to get her hair done. The curler takes small strands of her light brown hair; mixed with her ivory highlights. The strands of hair tangle in the curler- wrapping around, and around, and around again. Lightly and gracefully the faint curls fall, just short of her bare shoulders. Shawnee smiles in delight, her chubby cheeks making lines on her face; and her braces are popping out. Her slim figure prances around for a while; she calms down when it’s her turn to get her make up done. The pale makeup is smeared on her face in a light coat, not nearly enough to cover up her face full of freckles. Her face is dusted with powder to take away the slightest shine; and her chipmunk cheeks are painted with light pink blush. With a swoop of a small brush, her eyes are incrusted with a gold dust, complementing her light brown eyes. Shawnee feels complete, and she goes and sits on the couch waiting for the rest of the girls to finish.
Gracefully sliding down on the open chair, its Susie turn to get her hair done; she is 5’9”, the tallest out of our group of friends. Her thin blonde-dyed hair reaches far below her shoulders; when a ray of sunlight hits it, it glistens and shines. Her blonde hair has the slightest streaks that resemble the color white, and dark roots barley showing from her scalp. Susie has a stern expression on her face; she’s not nearly as excited as Shawnee was. She sits up perfectly straight while Samantha, our hair stylist, wrapped her hair around the hot curler; Holding it there for only seconds, and then letting the perfect spiral curl fall to her back. It doesn’t take Samantha long to finish all her curls. When her hair is done, there are about 100 bobby pins to hold it in place; it looks like something you would see in a wedding magazine. Susie sits still as the cold wet make up is slathered on to her pale, but perfect face. Fake eyelashes are placed around her baby blue eyes, and a diamond stud nose ring pokes out from the small curve of her nose. Susie looks proud and confident, like the thought of her parents both in prison never even occurs to her.

Everyone is done; we wait around my house until our ride arrives. Glancing around Susie notices family photos on the wall; she stares at them with a saddened expression on her face; she’s probably thinking about her abusive parents. Shawnee paces around the living room, not caring that the crunching of her tall silver heels were denting the hard word floor my parents just had installed. The room smelled like a million different perfumes. Overwhelmed by the smell, we all head outside; the bright sun reflects of the plush green grass, and nearly blinds us as we stumble outside on our heels. We take deep breathes of the fresh fall air, in the distance you can hear gun shots firing off, and the whip of the wind in the trees. The fast flash of a car heading down our drive way tells us that it’s time to get going. We slide on to the leather seats, trying not to wrinkle our dresses, nor mess up our hair.

We arrive at the school, our heels making small clicking noise as we head up the side walk. Shawnee bounces around, smiling and laughing; her face lit up by a smile stretching ear to ear. While Shawnee chatters away, I can’t help but notice Susie’s small smile, as her shiny red lips crease upward. Her smile grows larger as we make our way into the dim-lit room. Soon enough she’s laughing with the rest of us.





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