The Henna Wars(72)

Once I bend over to work on the henna design, it’s like I’ve left the loud, stuffy hallway of St. Catherine’s and entered a world of my own. A world where it’s only me and the henna and Jess’s hand. Not even Jess, just her hand—as if it’s dismembered and floating. I barely feel her presence as I work away, so when she leans forward and a strand of her brown hair brushes over my shoulder, I jump in surprise. A thin, dark line of henna makes it way down her forearm.

“Sorry!” Jess exclaims at the same time I do. I grab a tissue from my table and dab her arm.

“I was just trying to get a good look.” Her voice is higher than usual.

“It’s okay. Look.” There’s a pale, fading line where I smudged the henna, but it’s more or less invisible and should be gone in a few minutes.

“You’re so concentrated when you’re working,” Jess comments. I blush, because I’m not sure if this is a compliment or an insult.

“It takes concentration.”

“I know, I know. Just …” She takes a deep breath and sits back in her chair, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I should have listened to you before. When you wanted the three of us to do this. I was … I didn’t really understand. And you’re … wow, you’re talented.” She’s looking at her own henna-clad arm now. I try not to smile because that would make me seem condescending, but I also kind of want to say, “Ha! Told you so!”

Instead, I say, “Thanks.”



Nobody else shows up to my booth until we break for lunch. It’s been mostly lower classes let out to venture into the hallway for the morning; I’m hoping that after lunch, when more adults show up, I’ll get a little more business. I try not to let the fact that there’s been a constant stream of people outside Flávia and Chyna’s booth bother me as I weave past them to join Chaewon and Jess for lunch.

“You have to look at some of the other booths when you’re free,” Jess says excitedly, taking a bite of her sandwich and speaking with her mouth half open and half full. “There’s some really cool stuff. Did you see the stall full of handmade plushies? So cool!”

“There isn’t really anybody to watch my stall if I go strolling around.” I shrug. Jess clamps her mouth shut and glances at Chaewon with a guilty look. “That’s not supposed to be accusing you of something,” I add quickly. “I’m just saying.”

Jess and Chaewon don’t bring up the other stalls again during lunch, but I do text Priti to hurry up and help me with the stall when she can.

She texts back, YOU KNOW I HAVE THE JUNIOR CERT!!!!!!!! before immediately following that up with, I’ll be there after lunch.

After lunch, we all shuffle into the near-empty hallway. Chaewon and Jess hurry over to their stall, and I follow, passing Flávia and Chyna. Flávia gives me a secret smile as I pass her, and I can’t help the jolt of electricity that momentary smile sends through me.

Chaewon and Jess’s stall is smack bang in the middle of everything. The absolute perfect spot. As soon as we get there, Chaewon begins to sort through things, ensuring everything is perfect. Jess watches her, a bemused expression on her face.

“I wish your stall was close by so we could help each other out,” Jess says.

I wish that too. I could really use a helping hand.

I shrug. “It’s okay. Priti’s going to come over to help me.”

I stroll over to my near isolated corner, and I stop in my tracks.

“Nice setup you have here.”

I turn to find Cáit O’Connell smirking at me, her eyes flitting from me to the table “setup” in front of me. It’s nothing like I left it earlier. The banner Flávia made me is ripped through the middle, with jagged edges where NISHAT’S MEHNDI had been. The fairy lights Jess and Chaewon had carefully strung around the entire table are stripped off and lying on the floor, the glass on most of them broken.

I rush toward the table, trying to push back the lump in my throat and the tears prickling behind my eyes. The henna tubes I had carefully placed on the table are slashed open, and the henna is staining the crepe paper and table, but I’m more concerned about my design book, which I had tucked away in a hidden corner.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I finally find it under the table. Whoever did this must have accidentally dropped it and not even noticed. The loose pages I had stuffed into it are spread across the dirty floor but it’s otherwise unharmed. I shove the pages back in and pull the book to my chest. I have never been happier to see a book before, and I’m often very happy to see them.

But there is still the matter of my stall being trashed.

When I look up from the table, Cáit has gone back to her own stall, arranging different cosmetics into a straight line. The rest of the hallway is awash with happy noise—of work, play, excitement.

I slump down on my chair. All of my hard work—gone. Just like that.

“What the hell happened here?” Jess and Chaewon are standing over me; Jess is glaring at the bare table with furrowed eyebrows, like it’s wronged her, and Chaewon is peering at me with soft eyes like I’m a kicked puppy she needs to protect.

“Someone … I don’t know, they messed my table up.” I somehow manage to get the words out even though the lump in my throat has set up camp and is showing no sign of dissipating anytime soon.