The Diary of a Late Bloomer: A Coming of Age Novel

By L.M.L. Gil

Lo is a sheltered 20-year-old who loves baking, manga/anime, and octopi. When she spots her college swim team's tryout flyer sporting her favorite sea creature, an octopus, she knows it's a sign that she must join. The only things standing her way are her socially awkward nature and that she just learned to swim.

Will Lo find her place to shine or will her social anxiety DQ her dreams?

Late Bloomer is a new adult novel that is a cross between Bridget Jones's Diary, Baywatch and Kuragehime.

• Language: English
• Publisher: L.M.L. Gil
• Release date: Jul 4, 2020

L.M.L. Gil

I'm a writer, a reader, and dreamer.When I'm not writing, editing, or thinking about my next novel, I'm either in the kitchen testing out a new recipe or snuggling with my fur munchkins reading.As a glutton, I equate a good novel to a scrumptious dessert, which leaves your heart a little lighter and a smile on your face.I hope my novels provide a sweet treat without the calories ?

Book preview

Wednesday, September 3, 2003

Isnuck an expecting Estrella one of my blueberry muffins as I ran out of my apartment. The tubby beagle and I are kindred spirits with our short stature and healthy appetite. Her guardian, Mrs. Marpel, a regal purple haired septarian, was too busy complaining to the super about her leaky faucet to notice.

My excitement had made it difficult to sleep, so I baked two dozen muffins. After my family’s morning rush only six remained. I brought two with me.

As I stopped to catch my breath, I saw a snail trying to cross the sidewalk. Afraid that someone might step on it, I put it on the grassy patch it was making its way towards. I took a happy breath and looked up at the clear blue sky; it was a good omen.

The subway station was so packed it seemed like it was rush hour even though it was closer to noon. When I crammed my way into the sweat smelling train, the muffled voice of the conductor informed me we had train traffic ahead. It always puzzles me. If no trains came by for 10 minutes, how could there be train traffic? Did a phantom train appear in front of us?

My stomach knotted when I checked the time. Luckily, I had Plan B. I took off my socks and changed into my flip-flops. Stripping completed!

I pushed my way to the door as the train approached my station. I made it all the way to the stairs before a super slow elderly person got in front of me. I swear she was behind me when I left the train. She must be one of those ninja geriatrics that get in front of everyone but have trouble climbing the stairs.

I could have risked acrobatics, but my clumsiness would kill me. Balance and my body never went together. It was the reason my mom signed me up for gymnastic classes when I was little. Several injuries later, I got kicked out because they feared for my safety.

Hopefully a bunch of people had showed up, then they wouldn’t realize I was late. Or maybe there would be a fire drill like they had in elementary school. Whenever I forgot my book, or I was about to get called on to answer my teacher’s ambiguous questions fire drills saved me. We would stop everything and leave school. It was my third favorite thing after holidays and half days. Trips and substitutes were a mixed bag.

Before going in I took a breath and studied my index cards one last time.

I opened the glass door near the lifeguard’s table.

The pool is closed right now, a guy in a lifeguard shirt pointed at the door.

It seemed I had missed it. I had practiced all summer, taken several books out and even made index cards. But because of my lateness I failed.

I need to set up the dividers before we open, so can you leave, the guy scowled at me.

Sorry. I looked down at my shaved legs and spotted a whole patch of wild hair I missed. I couldn’t leave without trying.

Um, about the try outs, I whispered.

What? the guy’s scowl deepened.

Swim team try outs, I showed him the flyer with a picture of an orange octopus.

Huh, someone actually showed up, he grumbled. His chiseled features would look better if he smiled.

Nick, what’s going on? a man growled.

Coach, there’s a girl here who wanted to try out for the team and she won’t leave, he complained.

I’m sorry, I said feeling embarrassed.

A tall bald man came out of an office.

Try outs were an hour ago, he gestured at the clock with his muscular arm.

I’m a tidsoptimist. I tend to underestimate the time it takes me to get to places. Plus, there was a ghost train ahead of us.

The lifeguard chuckled.

A ghost what? Actually, never mind.

Please, this is my last year. I graduate in the spring.

You should have been on time, the coach replied.

As I walked out, I tripped over my own feet, something that happens often. My index cards flew everywhere.

I gathered up the cards, but some had fallen by coach and the lifeguard. They picked them up, read them and looked at me. The coach sighed.

Okay, go change, he grunted, I’m sure I’ll regret this.

No need, I took off my shorts.

What are you wearing? the coach asked while shaking his head, whatever just get in the water.

I made my way to the pool ladder.

Where do you think you’re going? the coach snorted, you need a swimming cap to use the pool.

I bit my lip.

Let me guess you don’t have a swimming cap, the coach pinched the bridge of his nose.

Nick, give her a cap.

They’re $3 each, the lifeguard said as he handed me a small clear plastic bag.

Can I pay you later?

Okay but there’s a 10 percent interest fee, he said. He is probably a business major like almost everyone in this college.

Inside the bag was a tiny blue latex cap. It looked too small to fit my head. My hair was puffy because of the humidity. I tried to put it on my head, but it popped off and took a few of my curly hairs with it.

There was an explosion of laughter. The lifeguard held his stomach. The coach looked at me and shook his head.

He grabbed the cap from my hands and stretched it out.

Pull down on it.

It was finally on. I put my goggles on and descended on the ladder.

I stopped as soon as my foot felt the water. I shivered.

Hurry up get in, the coach yelled.

I slipped and fell into the water. I opened my mouth from the cold, causing me to swallow water.

Warm up with an easy 50 freestyle, the coach barked.

Um, how many laps is that?

The pool is 25 meters, he said as he held his head.

Two laps then, I said.

I focused on kicking my legs.

Alright now give me 50 breaststroke, the coach instructed.

My mind went blank.

Breaststroke, I repeated.

Yes breaststroke, the coach was getting annoyed.

I remembered.

The froggy! I exclaimed which led to another round of hysterical laughter from the lifeguard.

I swam the breaststroke the best I could.

50 backstroke, followed by 50 butterfly, the coach was watching me.

I swam the backstroke and then stopped.

50 butterfly, the coach repeated.

I don’t know how, I said as I tried to catch my breath.

Was it fun wasting my time? the coach said as he left for his office.

I’m sorry, I knew it was a long shot, but I really wanted to join the team, I explained but he had already left.

I picked up my shorts and bag. The lifeguard came over and handed me one of my index cards.

When did you learn how to swim? he asked.

I taught myself what I could with books this summer, I replied before I headed to the locker room to change.

The wave hit me when I entered the locker room. I had expected it to come before. My body shook almost as fast as my heartbeat. I managed to make it to the stall. I closed my eyes and repeated, Grimpoteuthis is a genus of pelagic umbrella octopus that live in the deep sea. There are at least 13 species recognized, each having a different aspect from all the others such as larger ears or different colors.

I could breathe again. It was a small one. I changed out of my wet clothing. At least I tried, I consoled myself.

I went back to pay the lifeguard for the latex cap.

Here’s the $3.30, I handed him the money.

He took the three dollars and gave me back the thirty cents.

The coach wants you in his office, he said.

I knocked on the door.

Come in, the coach yelled.

The office had a large wooden desk, a bunch of trophies, and a bench.

Nick says you taught yourself using books. You’re not terrible for someone who just learned how to swim, he muttered. I don’t like your lateness, so you’re on probation for a month starting tomorrow. Also, shirts add drag and you are slow as it is.

Thank you, Coach. You won’t regret it, I bowed.

I already do, he replied.

I smiled as I left the coach’s office.

The lifeguard scowled at me, but I was so happy I hugged him. He stood there until I let go, then glared at me.

Don’t ever do that again, he said while cleaning himself with hand wipes.

I’M ON THE TEAM (technically on probation)!

PLAN OF ATTACK:

1. Be on time.

2. Don’t wear a shirt in the pool.

3. Celebrate I semi-made it into the swim team!

Thursday, September 4, 2003

As I left my building I stopped to put on my shoes. I had lost track of time while watching X , the anime. I still feel like I’m on summer vacation.

I avoided making eye contact with Mrs. Marpel, who was struggling with two grocery bags and Estrella’s leash. But I felt bad pretending not to see her. Mrs. Marpel accepted my offer to carry her bags upstairs.

She made me wait until she fished out a quarter. No good deed goes unpunished, I thought as I sped down the stairs.

The subway ride was without incident, but I was still running late.

I stripped as quick as possible and wrapped my long towel around my wiggly bits.

My thighs are part of the reason I wanted to be early to practice. Since I could no longer hide behind my long shirt, I came up with a new strategy: the quick drop and dive. I would cover myself up with a large beach towel and then dive into the water before anyone saw anything.

Time for stealth Lo. Open the door and slide into the pool like a ninja. No one noticed because they were looking at the coach. So far so good.

I tripped on my towel and fell on my knees. Ouch.

Nice of you to join us, the coach turned, his eyebrows furrowed.

I got up and tried to smile.

Hurry. Get in the water. We are waiting for you, the coach’s voice reverberated over the team’s whispers.

Everyone watched me jiggle my way to the pool. I almost slipped climbing down the ladder.

When I got in the coach blew the whistle and everyone started swimming. I joined in, not knowing what was happening. People kept passing me. I kicked faster but barely moved. My lungs and legs were on fire.

The coach blew the whistle again.

Lo, you get your own lane, he pointed to the only empty lane which furthest away from me. The giggles followed me as I ducked underneath five lane dividers. Tears swelled up in my eyes. A part of me wanted to leave the pool.

I swam as memories of school flooded my mind. I remembered all the times I cried in the bathroom after being called fat by the skinny girls in my class. I swam until my only thoughts were of breathing in and out.

The whistle roused me from my trance. It was over. Everyone else left together, talking amongst themselves. There went my splendid first impression. As I left the pool, the coach barked my name.

Lo, you need to practice a lot more on your own. Otherwise you will slow down the team, he said from behind a swimming magazine.

Okay, Coach I stuck my tongue out and made faces at him.

And if you’re late one more time, you’re off the team, he lowered the magazine and narrowed his eyes as I sucked my tongue back in.

I thought about quitting, but I saw the team’s logo, the orange octopus and I knew I was meant to join.

Someone whimpered in the locker room.

Are you okay? I asked a girl with hair so golden the light made it seem like a halo.

She smiled, wiping tears from her piercing dark blue eyes and porcelain skin with freckles.

Sorry, she said, going through a breakup. You know how it is.

I have never been in a relationship much less a breakup. I nodded.

He was the one, she wrinkled her nose at my dimply thighs. I placed my towel over them.

Everything was going great. We were in love. He seemed happy and then... she trailed off with a sob.

I’m sorry I said, not sure what to do.

Don’t be. It was more terrible for him than me, she blew her nose but still I gave him the best two weeks of his life.

Two weeks seems short but what do I know?

I’m Britney, she said.

I’m Lo, I replied while I looked at my hands.

Interesting name, she smiled. Lo, we’re going to be good friends.

She left after that. I was glad I could change by myself. I had worried that I would have to change in front of other girls, but if it came down to it, I would just change in the bathroom stall.

After a long day I dragged myself up the stairs to my apartment. As I opened the door, the garlic smell assaulted me. Mom was home early.

I’m home I shouted.

Hi baby! She yelled back from the bathroom, How was your day?

Good, I foraged for food in the kitchen, finding that all the muffins were eaten. Two of my classes seem interesting but hard and one seems fun. I also joined the anime/manga club.

That’s great, you love your cartoons, she said through a flush. There are portabellas.

Thanks, I ate the garlicky Portobello sandwich knowing I would regret it later.

I made a new friend. Since starting at this commuting college, I have made no friends. I am okay by myself, but it is nice to have someone to talk to. I am worried I will mess it up with my clumsy nature.

PLAN OF ATTACK:

1. Get to know Britney better.

2. Get to practice early.

3. Stop eating mom’s cooking.

Friday, September 5, 2003

Ididn’t sleep at all . My tummy bubbled and I burped garlic all night. My problem is the hunger monster that lurks in my stomach. Once it comes out only food, any food, can pacify it.

I drank tea until my stomach settled and could head to school. Tea is the only thing that works on my mom’s food.

I got to the pool early. From the outside it doesn’t look big, but while you swim, it feels long. The light covered ceiling seems like a skylight, but the pool is in the sub-basement.

I spotted Britney in her fuchsia swimsuit. She seemed so relaxed as her arms wind-milled out of the water. I wonder if I’ll ever be that good.

I changed in the empty locker room and when I came out, I saw Britney flirting with a tall and muscular guy. He had an air of a playboy. Britney giggled as she grazed his arm with her hand. She seemed self-assured. I am terrible at flirting with guys.

The first time I ever flirted, if you can call it that, was in junior high. I try never to think about it because every time I do, I want to dig a hole and hide.

I had the biggest crush on a boy named Jose, a middle school Adonis. He had a straight nose, short brown hair and a symmetrical face. All the girls in my grade had a crush on him.

He was in a different class, so I enjoyed him from afar. But as fate would have it he sat next to me for graduation.

We had graduation practice because otherwise no one would have a clue where to go, how to sit, stand, and how to sing the song when the actual graduation came.

Everything was great at first. I made him laugh all the time by making up weird stories about the kids in the front row. We seemed to hit it off until we had the award ceremony.

As we heard others get various awards, he complained that he got none. Suddenly my mouth moved and said he should win the best-looking award. I wanted to take it back.

There was just awkward silence before he shifted away.

Britney could have made that moment sexy while I made it clumsy and awkward.

Britney waved for me to come over.

Lo, John. John, Lo, she’s our recruit, Britney introduced us.

John nodded at me and I tried to copy him but ended up bowing while almost dropping the big towel hiding my pear-shaped bottom.

This is swimming, not martial arts, John said through his laughter. The coach came in, narrowed his eyes at Britney and me, and commanded John to take a reading of the water.

Britney linked arms with me like we were old friends.

She grinned and bit her lip, I have my eye on someone new.

Oh. She didn’t seem devastated at all.

Okay back to work, she saw John looking at her. I’ll tell you about him later.

She put on a lifeguard shirt and sat in the lifeguard tower. A lot of the swim team members are lifeguards, according to Britney.

I did my warmup, a slow 250 meters. I love the silence of the water when I submerge my head.

When I was done, all the swim team members got into the pool. I realized I still had practice.

I got into my lane, but no one noticed me. Practice started right away, and the coach yelled out drills.

We will work on our endurance today, he pointed at the drills written on his dry-erase board. Distance not speed.

I was shocked to find that there was a list of Lo’s modified drills.

Lo, you get your own drills, he nodded.

As soon as he blew the whistle, I kicked off the wall, gliding through the water. Once my momentum slowed, I kicked the water as hard as I could. When I went up to breathe, I swallowed water in my excitement. It burned my throat. I didn’t let it stop me. I kept going at a steady pace. It wasn’t quick, but it allowed me to swim with minimal rests.

My body ached.

Good job everyone, especially you Lo, the coach said, but stop drinking the pool dry.

Everyone laughed as they walked to the locker room. I pretended to stretch while I waited for them to change. But as I entered the locker room, Britney was putting on makeup at the mirror near the door.

What took you so long? she asked. Whatever, there’s a concert next week, you gotta come with.

Okay, I replied since I didn’t have a choice.

Great because I hate showing up to things by myself, plus you’ll get to meet my new interest, she snapped her eye shadow case shut.

I see, I replied.

But Lo please promise you’ll look nice, she wrinkled her nose.

I’ll try.

Great, bye! she waved as she left.

I got dressed after everyone left. I looked in the mirror before heading out. What is wrong with jeans and a t-shirt?

I spent the evening recovering. Everything hurts. I might be in worse shape than I thought. I even had trouble using the bathroom. Christopher noticed.

You look like a robot, he stated while concentrating on his video game. What are they making you do at school?

Nothing, I replied to my brother.

But couldn’t keep it to myself. Don’t tell mom but I joined the swim team at school.

You’re not allowed to swim, he retorted, plus you’ll die if you exercise.

Just because I am clumsy doesn’t mean I can’t swim or exercise, I replied.

Take that, he yelled at the game. You’re weird.

I am weird. I have always avoided teams and sports but when I saw the poster, I knew it was an omen for me to join.

You’re dead if mom finds out, he said while jerking the control around.

I know. I had promised my mom I wouldn’t swim after almost drowning when I was little.

It’s gonna cost you, Christopher tapped his stomach with one hand.

I see, I knew he wouldn’t rat me out, but he was hungry and wanted food, what do you want me to make you?

How did you know? Some chocolate chip cookies and a cheese sandwich, please!

Those are his two favorite things. Making the cookies took longer due to my limited mobility. But as I ate a cookie and watched him kill his opponents, I felt better having shared my secret.

PLAN OF ATTACK:

1. Learn about Britney’s favorite topic, fashion.

2. Give up sweets. Sugar is an addiction (but such a yummy addiction).

3. Learn the art of flirting. (But how? Should I get a book on it?)

Saturday, September 6, 2003

Weekends are always terrible for my diet and sweets are too good to give up.

I went to the beach with mom, dad, and my brother. I got to hear the ocean and smell the salty air. The only bad part was I noticed that everyone there had a nicer body than me. I had to beg my mom to let me go into the ocean, but she conceded since it was calm.

I enjoyed jumping over the waves until one knocked me down. I had trouble getting up because new waves kept crashing into me.

My mom freaked out and called the lifeguard over to save me. It was rather embarrassing. The waves were only two feet high.

PLAN OF ATTACK:

1. Avoid large waves.

2. Consider hypnotism for weight-loss.

3. Research food that helps you grow taller.

Sunday, September 7, 2003

We stopped by Borders on our way back home from our weekly grocery shopping trip. I found a book on how to flirt but was too embarrassed to buy it after a group of skinny girls snickered at me while I skimmed it.

I got a 30-day diet plan book instead. Before learning to flirt I need confidence, and to be confident, I need to lose 30 lbs.

I wanted to start my new plan right away but seeing how it is a holiday weekend it won't work. I plan to read the book and start next week. I would have also bought a fashion magazine, but all the clothing looked like bad abstract art and cost thousands of dollars.

I bought an almond chocolate croissant, most of which my brother stole. I was feeling ambitious, so I decided that I would attempt to replicate the croissant at home.

Mom, I had the most delicious croissant drizzled with chocolate and filled with almonds. I want to make it at home, I beamed.

That sounds heavenly, let’s go find the recipe she said as she led me to the cookbook section. She made me scan a whole wall of cookbooks until we found one with a good wild mushroom risotto.

But weren't we getting a cookbook so I could replicate the almond chocolate croissant?

Huh? That sounds yummy let’s go buy it at the café, she replied as we headed down the electric stairs, A.K.A. escalators.

She was in her own world. I promise I will not eat her risotto.

PLAN OF ATTACK:

1. Read 30-day diet book.

2. Look up croissant recipe.

3. Ask Britney what fashion magazines she gets.

Monday, September 8, 2003

Inever learn!

PLAN OF ATTACK:

1. Never eat mom’s cooking, especially her mushroom risotto.

2. Try croissant recipe.

3. Plan 30-day diet.

Tuesday, September 9, 2003

Akiller practice!

The coach had us do a pyramid drill. It is called a pyramid because you start with a low number then peak and then go back down to the small number: 25 meters freestyle, 50 meters breaststroke, 75 meters backstroke, 100 meters freestyle, 75 meters backstroke, 50 meters breaststroke, and 25 meters freestyle with 30 second rest in between.

Somehow the pool seemed longer and longer with each passing lap. I didn’t even get to finish the workout. The coach yelled that it was it for the day and we would continue tomorrow.

I am dreading it.

As I combed my hair in the locker room, Britney confirmed that I am going to the concert with her on Friday.

So did you find what you’ll wear? Britney said as she eyed my clothing.

I’m not sure, I struggled with the comb. My arms turned to jelly from the practice.

Promise me you’ll look nice, okay? she seemed concerned.

Maybe I’ll go shopping after my class, I tried to appease her.

Britney gave me a big smile. Want me to go with you? I’m amazing at picking clothes for other people, and, for myself.

Um. I avoid going shopping because it depresses me when nothing fits.

Well, if you don’t want me to come, Britney pretended to sniffle and wipe tears out of her eyes.

Sure let’s go shopping together, I conceded.

Great! Soho has a bunch of cool stores, she listed stores I had never heard off.

I hoped it would be a short trip, but Britney made it into a whole excursion and I needed to be home before my brother came back.

My class ends at 2:15.

Why don’t you skip? I’m sure you won’t miss much, she linked arms with me.

I wanted to tell her no, but I have a problem saying that one amazing word. My stomach burned from missing class.

Britney hijacked my shopping trip and stopped at each store to try on clothing. It looked amazing on her figure. I enjoyed the trip, but by the third store I had to go home.

Look at all the amazing stuff I found, exclaimed Britney as we headed to the next store.

Britney, I have to go home now, I said.

Lo is that not the cutest top you have ever seen? Britney pointed at mannequin wearing a skimpy low-cut shirt and dragged me into the store.

I plotted my escape as she tried on clothing. I knocked on the dressing room door.

My stomach feels funny, I think I might have diarrhea. I ran away before Britney could reply.

I hate using my emergency excuse, but it was the only way not to offend Britney. My life would be a lot easier if I learned how to say no.

I barely made it home on time. Christopher arrived a few minutes later, demanding food.

PLAN OF ATTACK:

1. Learn how to say NO.

2. Cut down on food.

3. Avoid shopping (at least until I lose weight).

Wednesday, September 10, 2003

Idoubted my ability to endure practice; the coach added pushups and sit-ups between laps to increase our strength. I couldn’t even drag myself out of the water.

The coach protested, but I gave him a dirty enough look he let me use the stairs. I still couldn’t complete the entire routine, but the coach told me to do the cool down instead.

After it was over, I floated on my back for 5 minutes, unable to move. Why would anyone put themselves through this? The lights looked like mini suns. I heard splashing as Britney’s arms fanned out of the water one at a time. I guess I know how she has such a great body. She is an impressive person, strong and confident, yet feminine. I want to be just like her.

In the locker room she showed me some clothing she bought after I abandoned her for the bathroom. She used Gothic magazines for inspiration, so everything she got was black and covered in holes.

PLAN OF ATTACK:

1. Buy clothing for the concert.

2. Survive two more days of practice.

3. Be more like Britney.

Thursday, September 11, 2003

Icouldn’t move, every motion triggered pain. I considered skipping school and practice. My mom wanted me to stay home because it’s 9/11.

I went to school anyway. Unfortunately, I had a quiz in physics. The teacher hinted about it last class but as I went shopping with Britney, I had no clue. I flunked my first quiz, worth 10 percent of the final grade.

No one was at the pool. I changed for nothing. Putting on a one piece was twice as hard because I couldn’t bend.

The sign on the coach’s office read practice is at the gym. I wanted to pretend I didn’t see the note and skip for the day, but as I was about to head home, I ran into Nick.

I have been avoiding him after the hugging incident, another case of my awkward social skills. He always looks serious. I am not sure if he scowls at everyone or just me.

He looked me up and down. I blushed. I had changed back into my sweatpants and a shirt that had food stains on it. Why did I choose today to dress lazy?

You look ready, he nodded, the coach sent me to look for you.

Nick had to slow down because my legs could barely move. He still walked ahead of me. He didn’t make small talk, which was good because walking took all my concentration.

When we got to the gym, the team was stretching on yoga mats. Before I could thank my escort, he disappeared. As soon as I plopped down on my mat, the coach dimmed the lights.

Today we will do yoga to loosen those tense muscles, the coach explained with a gentle and calm voice.

I have always wanted to do yoga. It is supposed to be peaceful. Someone should tell the coach.

I kept almost falling while we stood on one leg. My favorite pose was the corpse pose, so named because after that sweat fest you feel like you died.

Britney seemed worried that I would have nothing to wear, pointing at the sweats and stained shirt. I wanted to explain it was the only clothing I managed to put on. But instead I promised her I would let her put makeup on me.

Britney was excited about giving me a makeover. Makeup highlights your best qualities and hides your worst ones. Her eyes grazed my bottom as she said this. I took it as you can always put make up on regardless of thigh size.

I never wear makeup, in part due to laziness but also because one time I tried to put on mascara and ended up in the hospital. It took two years to get rid of the nickname one eye Lo. Since then I stayed away from makeup.

I will overcome my fear just for Britney. Hopefully she has a steadier hand than me.

PLAN OF ATTACK:

1. Wear decent clothing to the concert.

2. Try not to be awkward when meeting Britney’s friends.

3. Avoid gassy food so as not to look puffy (read this in one of Britney’s magazines).

Friday, September 12, 2003

Idecided to just wear my Nirvana t-shirt and jeans. I told my mom I had a manga club event. Lying is terrible, but sometimes it is easier than telling the truth.

Britney did my makeup.

You are a real pro. You didn’t poke my eye.

Thanks, but I doubt anyone can poke their eye putting on makeup, she applied mascara as I held my breath.

You’d be surprised, I whispered. You are amazing!

Too sweet. I want to become a famous makeup artist one day, she studied my face and gave me the finishing touches.

I’m sure you will, I looked in the mirror and found a new me.

You look hot. You should wear makeup more often, she suggested.

I don’t know if I looked hot or not, but I looked different. When we stepped out of the locker room John ran to Britney.

Brit, can you cover for my shift tomorrow, he asked with his hands in a fake prayer position.

Sure, she said.

John noticed me.

What’s the special occasion? he pointed to my face.

We’re going to a concert, Britney beamed, and I wanted Lo to look presentable.

Not bad Lo, John said.

Would you like to come? I asked, feeling bad we hadn’t invited him.

No, I’ve got a hot date and don’t think I’ll get any sleep tonight, he winked.

Who’s the lucky girl Britney forced a smile.

You don’t know her. She’s from one of my classes. He looked at his watch, have fun and thanks Brit, I owe you one.

You sure do, she sighed but then smiled at me, let’s go.

We were late. The trains were slower than usual. The beer scent enveloped us as we pushed through the crowd. Britney spotted someone and walked ahead of me. I followed her but did not see there was a step which caused me to lose my balance. I bumped into something.

Watch it! a male voice said as I was shoved.

This place is scary, I thought.