Prologue

Ruby films a YouTube clip. But how did that tin of overpriced face powder lead to her attending a funeral?

I locked myself in the en suite bathroom and set up the camera. The white tiles were the perfect backdrop for filming but that wasn’t my only reasoning. I wanted to be alone and my hotel room was far from empty. Until I hit that share button this was private, personal. I couldn’t film to an audience.

Placing the contents of my make-up bag on the floor, I scraped my hair into a ponytail. My throat burned as I tried not to cry, my heart thumping in my chest. I hit the record button before I changed my mind. It was now or never.

“Hey there I’m Ruby”. I gave the camera a cute smile, “Today’s subject is funeral make-up.”

 I grimaced. It sounded like I was about to start an emo kid face, black eyes and too pale foundation. I tried again, “Hello all. Today’s face is natural beauty, a look suitable for a funeral.” I shuddered. Did that sound like I wanted to teach people how to make up a corpse? That was definitely not my intention. I tried a sympathetic nod, “Today’s look is perfect for attending a funeral. That’s where I’m going today.”

It was too much. No one cared. Except me, I cared a lot. I grabbed a handful of cosmetics and launched them at the camera. I pressed my palms into my eyes rubbing them hard, holding the tears back just as long as it took me to film.

“Ruby!” she called.

I slid forward, picking up the lipsticks I’d flung in my temper, “won’t be long!”

She was going to come looking for me at any moment. I needed to work fast; another deep breath, another cute wave to camera, “Hello there. So much has happened since I started my YouTube channel. Thank you all. You’ve listened to my ranting; you’ve inspired me with your comments. Well I think you might just have saved my life at times.”

Before I started speaking from the soul I needed to get some make-up on.  No one needs to air their deepest feelings with a bare face, no one. I squeezed the foundation onto the back of my hand. “Today I’m going to a funeral. I think most of you already know whose. Here’s my funeral face, I hope it inspires some of you. Getting this right isn’t as easy as you might think.” Damn right it wasn’t. I’d agonised for days. I used the brush to buff the foundation into my skin. “I’ve gone with a heavy base knowing stress and grief will do its worst. I’ll have a lot of blushing and rashes to try and cover up. This is heavy foundation; it will cover that redness with ease”

She’d given me that foundation. So generous, even with everything she’d been facing. Now she was dead. That flesh coloured liquid covered my skin like a latex mask, that baby was not for cracking, grief or no grief.

“Now I’m going to contour the low points of my face.”

Low points; emotionally my whole face was a low.

“Apply the rosy shade to the apples of your cheeks. There you are a nice healthy glow”

What right did I have to be healthy?

“For the eyes I’m going with my twenty shades of beige palette. The first one I ever owned.”

I stared down at the eye shadow palette, ten strips of cool neutrals, and ten strips of warm. The perfect symphony of eye shadow, it was sheer beauty.

Without those twenty almost identical colours none of this would have happened. There was no way back. My world had changed. How did that one little box of overpriced face mush lead to me attending a funeral?

I suppose I should start at the beginning…

Reviews

[EmaleighLynn]

I'm interested. Usually this isn't the sort of thing I'm interested in, but I couldn't help but find myself drawn into it. I'm very curious as to what happens next. I saw no problems in your writing. I look forward to more!

[Amelia Birch]

Hi EmaleighLynn,
Thank you very much for your comment. This is my first attempt at young adult so I'm still finding me way :)
I'll have a look at your work too x