It was more than just being out of place. I had felt exposed in Mr. Thorne's office wearing my jeans and sweater. He had gotten under my skin, into my head. No one ever did that.
I wasn't dressing up for him. Not exactly. I was dressing up against him, hiding my sickness under cosmetics and fabric.
Hiding my weakness to him.
My Gramma used to break out her heels and her full palette of makeup whenever she had an important meeting at work or with the school. If it was really important, she wore the only suit she owned. She'd called it putting on her war paint.
"You don't have to look prettier or younger than they do," she used to say. "But if you look more put together, that's half the battle."
Well, I certainly wasn't going to look either more attractive or more put together than Mr. Thorne. But I hoped it would be enough.
"And that's the other thing," Lisette said. "The car. That's just weird."
"I think it's some kind of super-rich corporation. They really need volunteers for this drug trial." I swiped a light peach over my eyelids. It seemed to be successful in bringing some warmth back to my brown eyes.
"It's got to be crazy dangerous then," Lisette said.
Four quick brushes, and the mascara was on. Just my upper eyelashes-I looked tired enough already. "Probably. I'll find out tonight. But even trying something crazy dangerous is better than being declared terminal, which is all I've gotten so far."
"Well, you do look great," she said, almost begrudgingly.
"I feel like I'm playing dress-up." I rolled my eyes at myself. I'd had an internship in an office the last year, but I'd never really gotten used to the business clothes, and even there, I hadn't bothered with cosmetics beyond mascara and lip gloss.
I'm not really sure this is working for me, I thought, trying out the blush.
"Oh, God," I said. The rouge looked garish against my washed-out features. I reached for the washcloth.
"No, let me fix it," Lisette said. She grabbed a handful of toilet paper and dusted at my face. "Much better."
It was. "Thanks."
"Are you sure you've got enough energy for this?" Lisette fretted.
"God, Lisette, you're like the mother I never had. And never wanted," I said, but I smiled as I shook my head. "I napped for three hours this afternoon. I'm going to be fine."
"If you're sure," she grumbled.
I grabbed a safe peach lipstick and put it on. With my coral blouse, the cosmetics managed to bring some semblance of liveliness back into my face. Did I look stronger, too? I hoped so.