Lipstick

Dad found lipstick in my school bag

and confronted me with it.

What’s this?

I didn’t have an answer.

The previous week he’d caught me reading

Kelly-Anne’s Cosmopolitan and torn it in two.

Do you have a boyfriend? he asked,

not completely unkindly.

No, Daddy.

So what’s the face paint about?

I don’t know.

And the truth was, I didn’t.

I’d used it once or twice

but didn’t see much point

when it just wiped off a few minutes later.

He took a deep breath.

I’m being very patient here, Allison.

But don’t push me. OK?

I wiped my mouth with my sleeve

even though I was sure

I hadn’t anything on my lips.

OK, Daddy.