12
Getting ready wasn’t as bad as I thought it would. Knowing they would have liked to participate, Ellie had called Ryane, and Cora had called Violet. The six women and I occupied my mother’s tent while we got ready. I had no idea where they had gotten so many colorful dresses and jewelry—if I remembered correctly, we had fled the enclave and barely grabbed anything in the process—but suddenly a sea of green and blue and pink and orange fabrics inundated the tent.
I behaved like a doll, standing there, while they did my hair, applied my makeup, and dressed me up.
But after they were done, I stood in front of a cheap standing mirror and smiled at my reflection.
My hair was tied up in a thick French braid until my neck, then the braid opened up, letting my curls fall down to the middle
