Chapter 4Their reflection stared back from the restroom mirror, ugly and boyish, smooth skin marked by the suggestion of acne, and even as they drew the line of dark eyeliner along their eyelid in the space between the charcoal of the eyeshadow and the white of their eye, Charlie Calohan tried not to study the face that looked back, frozen in an unflattering expression, from the mirror before them.
“So,” said the girl to their left, seated almost in the sink, skirt rolled up way too high, heels kicking against the wooden partition that hid the aged plumbing of the building, “did your parents buy it or not?”
“I told them it was a joke,” Charlie replied, still pulling a face as they held the corner of their eye and finished off the line with a flick, “I just said it was a prank, you know?”
