Chapter Thirty-Nine
“OH YEAH. YOU totally look like a banjo-strumming softie,” says Christina.
“Really?”
“No. Not at all, actually. Just . . . let me fix it, okay?”
She rummages in her bag for a few seconds and pulls out a small box. In it are different-sized tubes and containers that I recognize as makeup, but wouldn’t know what to do with.
We are in my parents’ house. It was the only place I could think of to go to get ready. Christina has no reservations about poking around—she already discovered two textbooks wedged between the dresser and the wall, evidence of Caleb’s Erudite leanings.
“Let me get this straight. So you left the Dauntless compound to get ready for war . . . and took your makeup bag with you?”
“Yep. Figured it would be harder for anyone to shoot me if they saw ho
