Bridge to a Distant Star - Carolyn Williford [83]
“I hate that alarm. If I’m not waking up with my heart pounding because of a stupid nightmare, this dumb clock has the same effect.”
Beth rolled toward the wall, grousing as she did so, “Then why don’t you set it to music?”
Michal jerked the covers down, climbed out of bed. She ran her fingers lightly through her hair, trying to judge if it needed washing. Noticing Beth’s inactivity, she urged, “Beth. You need to get up.”
“Why? I’m already gonna get detention for too many cuts. What’s one more?”
Michal padded over to her roommate’s bed. “Beth, are you okay? I mean … really. Are you all right?” The pause worried Michal, and she reached out to lightly touch Beth’s shoulder.
Still electing to remain beneath the bedspread, Beth finally responded, “I’m just sleepy. I was up late studying. Stupid English exam.”
“Well, if you’re sure then. I’d better get going.” Michal began tugging up her sheet, straightening the pillow and quilt. “You just going to stay in bed a while?”
“Uh-huh.”
When Michal entered the bathroom the six women in her suite shared, she discovered Ruth and Jenny were there, one at a sink and the other in the shower. Since Michal and Ruth were the only ones who were somewhat personable in the early morning hours, Jenny merely grunted when Michal entered. Michal simply said “Morning” back. But when Ruth began singing in the shower—prompting Jenny to frown and roll her eyes—Michal laughed.
Deciding her hair could go another day without washing, Michal showered quickly. She wet her shoulder-length hair and pulled it into a casual ponytail with a simple rubber band. Her blonde hair had darkened considerably and was now a light brown with blonde highlights. But it hadn’t lost its wispy tendency, nor the natural curls; both qualities meant that tendrils still escaped the confines of the rubber band. Rarely, on special occasions, Michal would blow-dry her hair—but even then, she’d merely tuck it behind her ears. No fancy styling, no bows or barrettes, no fuss.
The other girls were amazed when Michal arrived at school with absolutely no makeup. No blush, mascara, lipstick, powder. Definitely no eyelash curler (she’d responded with amazement when shown the “contraption,” as she called it), eyeliner, or eye shadow.
As Michal stood at the sink brushing her teeth, she took note of the spattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, a remnant from her childhood Michal considered an ongoing aggravation. After rinsing her mouth, she impulsively stuck out her tongue at the offending spots. Otherwise, her skin was perfectly clear, emitting a peaches-and-cream glow. As a rare fair-skinned person in remote sections of Africa, she’d learned to apply moisturizer with sunscreen every day, and did that still. Smoothing the cream around her eyes, she took for granted the long, naturally curly lashes (she had no need of the contraption) framing her almond-shaped light grey eyes, the slightly turned-up nose, the full and well-shaped lips. Samantha, another of her suitemates, liberally used makeup, and quickly recognized what a skillful application could do for Michal’s cheekbones and eyes. But Michal had remained adamant she hadn’t the time or desire to “mess with all that stuff.”
Michal’s one indulgence was a pair of pierced earrings, small gold hoops she’d received as a young child. Rarely removed, the earrings were such a part of her image she scarcely took notice of them anymore.
At five feet nine inches, she was no longer gangly, having grown into her long legs. A natural athlete, Michal moved with grace and coordination, but preferred to run only as a personal discipline, declining to participate in competitive track and other organized sports. Sometimes she’d join an impromptu pick-up game of soccer, basketball, or volleyball, her skills quickly making her a desired team member. Intramural team players begged her to play, but she’d refused, insisting she needed more time to “hit the books.” When needing a stress reliever or a break from study, however, she’d run. Sometimes for several miles, as she had in Ethiopia.