Tonight: the formal dance. Everything she ever dreamed of. 

But the face looking back in the mirror? About three shades too orange. 

She needs to exchange this foundation pronto, before her plans—and dreams—for the night burn down. 

Because tonight will be perfect. No matter what the price. 

A wicked little story about the lengths that people go to for that one perfect evening. 

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Anything For You/As Long As I Live

I turned to Jacquie and tilted my head under the bright lights of my closet-turned-dressing room. “What do you think?” I knew her too well to think she’d lie. 

Her face fell. “Oh, honey. That colour is all wrong for you!”

My stomach sank. “What? No! I asked the woman at the counter! She did a skin test and everything!” I whirled back to the mirror and scrutinised my jawline. Sure enough, if I craned my neck up and tilted to the right, a line of orange traced my jaw from chin to earlobe. 

“What am I going to do?” I turned to Jacquie in a panic. “The formal’s in”—I checked the big old train station clock on the wall—“three hours and I have a hair appointment and I have to get dressed and we have to drive there, and besides all that, I’m broke!” 

I buried my hands in my face and tried to pretend I wasn’t sobbing over makeup. After all, children somewhere were dying of starvation. Those children probably weren’t preparing simultaneously for their senior formal and their first date with the love of their high school life though, to be fair.

“Return it,” Jacquie said. “It’s the only thing you can do.”

“It’s opened!” I wailed. “They’ll never take it back! I’m broken! The whole evening is ruined!”

Jacquie took me by the arm and marched me out my bedroom door as I waved the open tube of foundation vaguely. 

“You’ve clearly never seen me negotiate,” she promised as we climbed into the car. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. You know I’ll do anything to make this date perfect for you. It’s going to be fine.”