Page 77 of Pride High 2: Orange
Mindy’s eyes widened. Then she seemed to relax. “I’m behind the scenes. Nobody will see me. That’ssomuch easier.”
“Exactly. You only have to deal with other people’s sweaty anxiety.”
“Speaking of which,” Mindy said, guiding them through the back stage area, “this is my workstation. Doesn’t that sound grown-up?”
“It does,” Silvia said, taking in the wheeled racks of clothes that walled in a generic table. A battlefield of cosmetic products covered the surface. Someone was already sitting there while awaiting further treatment.
“Hey girl!” Whitney said, raising a hand in greeting. A towel was draped over her shoulders, protecting the simple brown dress she wore. “Did you bring anything for me to sign?”
They’d shared plenty of classes over the years. Silvia wasn’t surprised that Whitney was the only person here who didn’t seemed stressed. Nothing seemed to faze her.
“Do you mean an autograph?” she asked. “From the star of the show? I’d love that!”
Silvia handed her the program that she’d been given at the door. Whitney pulled out a permanent marker and gleefully began scribbling. Once the program was handed back, Silvia turned to get Mindy’s autograph, but her best friend was busy scowling.
“What are you wearing?” Mindy demanded.
“A peasant’s dress,” Whitney replied. “It’s basically a potato sack with pockets. It’s the worst!”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it!” Mindy shot back.
“It’s just asmidgeof lipstick,” Whitney whined.
“Yes, but we’re saving that color for the castle scenes! When Belle finally decides that she wants to win the Beast’s heart. We talked about this!”
Whitney put on a pleading expression. “Did you see those seats filling up out there? I want to look my best!”
Silvia expected her best friend to exhale and shrug it off. But no. Mindy seemed to grow in height as her face darkened. “OnlyIget to decide how you look or what you wear. At least until the play is over!” And with that, she grabbed a washcloth and began wrestling with Whitney, who continued to resist.
“Don’t worry,” someone drawled behind them. “This is perfectly normal behavior for opening night.” Keisha Hart walked up to Silvia and stood next her while watching the struggle. “Of course,” she added, “since we only put on one performance per play, it’s also closing night. Which might explain why everyone acts so insane.”
Silvia almost didn’t recognize her. Keisha was friends with Mindy, so they ran into each other over the years, although it had been a long time. Usually when Silvia thought of her, she pictured Keisha as she had appeared back in junior high, when her hair had been longer and pulled into pom-poms on each side of her head. Now it was buzzed short, right down to the scalp. That only drew more attention to the details of her face, like the heavy lidded eyes, which lent her an air of calm control, or the full lips which were stuck in a subtle smirk. She wore plastic yellow hoops as earrings that matched the lemon sports jacket with high shoulder pads. Silvia’s attention flicked down to green plaid trousers she would have scoffed at had she seen them in a store, but Keisha sure made them work. Her dark skin, like roasted coffee, managed to bring the bold colors together as a cohesive whole.
Silvia squirmed. The old sweater and blue jeans she had chosen to wear tonight now seemed insufficient, despite being comfortable. “Keisha!” she said at last. “You look so… Hello!”
“I suppose that’s better than looking so goodbye,” Keisha teased. “It’s been ages, Silvia.”
“Too long,” she said, her attention moving over the outfit again. “Where do you shop?”
Keisha smiled. “Absolutely everywhere. The jacket belonged to my older brother before he outgrew it. I found the pants at an estate sale, of all places. And believe me, it was a very odd experience putting on a dead man’s pants for the first time.”
Silvia laughed. “I need to hear that story in detail.”
Keisha raised her eyebrows at this. “An unusual request, but I’m always willing to trade one story for another.”
Silvia felt her cheeks grow hot. “I didn’t mean the undressing part. Although I do have a story for you. Earlier this year, I was out of clean clothes and needed to go to the laundromat, so I borrowed an outfit from my mom. A dress and jacket combo that she only wears to church. I thought it would be funny, but the entire time I was in town, people kept calling me ma’am. And when some kids were acting up at the laundromat and I chased them off, I heard one of them say, ‘I think she’s a teacher at our school.’” Silvia shook her head and laughed at herself. “I was so embarrassed that I changed clothes in the bathroom before going home.”
“You should have tried buying cigarettes and beer first,” Keisha replied with an appreciative grin. “Who cares what some dumb kids think? I bet you look nice in a dress.”
“You look nice in a suit,” Silvia responded. And she meant it.
Keisha leaned forward, and in conspiring tones, she said, “I only dress like this on special occasions.”
“Not true,” Mindy said. “She always looks fabulous.”
“She really does,” Whitney chimed in. “I’m so jealous. Right now especially.”
“You’ll look pretty when the time is right,” Mindy scolded, focusing on her work again. “Now be quiet or I’ll make you rub dirt on your cheeks like the filthy peasant you are!”
