After the Kanes left, Eve sat in front of her mirror. Oh my goodness. She looked like one of the portraits at the Detroit museum. And without her curls she seemed … older.
But could she do this on her own on Monday? Sophie had left a list of instructions, but could Eve really manage the right mix of lip and eye shadow colors and the knot-free hair? The one time she’d tried to straighten it on her own, it had frizzed out in all directions like she’d been struck by lightning. Nessa had taken about a thousand pictures.
As the sun set, and havdalah ended, Eve turned on her phone.
Texts lit up one after the other like stars appearing in the night sky, almost all of them from Brody Dixon.
oh man I cant tell you how glad I am youll go w me
not sure about my costume yet lol whats yours
i bet youre gonna look so beauitufl at the dance
we should hang out next week id love to get to know u better
u around? I have rehearsals. Maybe before or after?
u there
She almost texted the Choir Room Trio, I can’t do this, but she stopped herself. She stood in front of the mirror once again.
Maybe the list was right. Maybe she was really, uniquely pretty. She did have a mouth that naturally pouted, just like her mom. And Sophie had told Eve that her eyes were “stunning.” Inspecting her reflection, she saw it was true. They were so brown and dark that, looking into them, it felt like they never ended, like the swirls of soil brown went all the way to the middle of the earth. In the mirror she could see how the violet color shading them gave the brown of her irises a new glow, a hum, just like Sophie had said it would.
She felt guilty as she thought it, but still, she thought that maybe, just maybe, she was the prettiest.
Sophie sure knew how to give a makeover.
Eve texted Brody back.
Sorry! Just getting these now. Busy day.
Oh no, why did she have to use an exclamation mark?
And she couldn’t explain Shabbat to him, could she?
I was gonna be Juliet. Haha. I have this old Renaissance dress from the Renaissance Faire. But you be whatever!! I can meet you after rehearsal on Monday, if you want. I was going to wait for Nessa, anyway. So I’ll see you then?
That was a lie. She had never planned on seeing Nessa rehearse.
That night she was pretty, and made up, and a liar.
Sophie’s words repeated themselves in her mind: You’re judging me for liking to look a certain way.
Was she? She didn’t know. She didn’t know if she was supposed to not like this face in the mirror, or only like it bare, or not think of it at all.
The face in the mirror didn’t make sense anymore.