. Nissa and I awoke early the next morning to make our little coffee bar for the girls, Slicing fruits, baking muffins and garnishing coffee. We had already dawned our tights and skirts. Nissa and I met because of our oddly similar style of wear. While most students attended classes wearing comfy jeans and worn out hoodies. Nissa and I found ourselves in skirts and tights. She because of her stent in Europe; my reason for lacking pants was because of the length of my legs made it rather impossible to find pants to fully cover my gangly legs. So Nissa and I joined ranks of style and became friends. Our similar skin color and long dark hair often had us mistaken for sisters. After a month of denying family roots we started to allow people to believe what they wanted to. I because I would have rather have Nissa for a sister than Alex for a brother and Nissan ever had a sibling to speak of.
When we finally had a breakfast bar laid out that could rival any mass chain coffee shop we went to wake up the rest of the girls. I ran into Rose’s room and hopped on her bed singing a morning song that causes instant irritation to anyone sleeping. Rose rolled over and threw her pillow at me. I picked it up and started to hit her with it, and sang a lullaby off key in hopes to induce laughter.
“Marrhaha, Timmy! You are dead!” Rose growled as she slid her feet out from beneath the covers. I kissed her on her forehead and extended a cup of coffee. “ooo coffee!” She cooed. With all forgiven Rose sat at the end of her bed sipping her morning nectar. She watched as I shuffled through her closet to find her an outfit. I laid out her nice looking jeans and a tee-shirt that worked well with her coloring.
“Timmarie. This is pathetic. You think I could pull off nicer clothes?” Rose touched her tee-shirt. “The rest of you have unique styles. You think Alissa, you or Pearl could help me with a new wardrobe? My mom sent me some money for some warmer clothes. When I came last spring I about froze and this year I will be here all winter.” At Roses words my energy bubbled.
“A shopping spree with someone else’s money? You came to the right person.” I would have to work it out that Nissa and Pearl couldn’t come; Too many cooks in a kitchen. Rose wouldn’t be able to afford their dress styles. I have seen Nissa’s labels and her idea of cheap clothes was my idea of nice clothes. And Pearl, she went with quantity over quality. Somehow she was able to layer and mismatch color and come out looking like a modern day child’s version of a gypsy princess.
“Make a list of the types of clothes you want and choose three colors you want to work with. If you limit yourself to three colors when buying clothes you can actually expand your wardrobe.” Rose looked at me as if I was crazy.
“Come back at lunch and I will show you what I mean.” I danced about with the words I spoke and darted out the door.
As I passed the larger bedroom I could hear Nissa singing. I stopped and watched her gently open up the bedroom blinds. Jo and Pearl were sitting in bed with my art books being used as breakfast trays. They were nibbling away at their muffins as Nissa tidied up their room. Down stairs, I cleaned up the kitchen and wait for the others to arrive. Jo was the first.
“Timmy do you have one of your ribbon belts from last year?” Jo was standing in front of me holding her black curly hair trying to mold it into some kind of stylistic configuration.
“Better yet my dear JoJo!” I dashed to the purple velvet curtains Nissa had hung up in the should-be-dining room. I pulled the long sash that held the material back. I repeated on the other side. I had been waiting for Jo to ask for help. I tied one sash around Jo’s head making a head band for her little fro. Then I grabbed the other and tied it around Jo’s narrow waist. I had given Jo the sweater she was wearing a few days ago. I knew she would wear it on the first day of school. I stood back and gazed at my life size doll.
“I get to do her make up!” Pearl was clambering down the stairs. “I brought my stuff. I know you said just the eyes but can I please put a little blush on you?” The past year Pearl and I had been makeover tag teaming Jo. I dressed her in my posh Grandma’s hand me down clothes and Pearl was working her way to a total make up package. Just before school ended Pearl convinced Jo to purchase foundation. They stood in the makeup aisle at the store for just over an hour trying to find the perfect cosmetic paint. Much to Pearl’s frustration Jo refused to buy the shade she recommended. When they returned and painted the goo on her face, Jo and the rest of us was mortified at the outcome. The foundation was much too light and made Jo look like a twisted version of a Geisha. We laughed it off pointing out that she was one quarter Japanese. But the whole experience wasn’t so laughable for Jo. She never has let Pearl touch anything but her eye makeup since then.
“Purr, Jojo you look so scrumishly pretty.” Rose rested her head on Jo’s shoulder in her signature hug. Jo blushed and tugged at the sash around her middle loosing it a little. “I love that sweater; it looks so soft and chocolaty. Where did you get it?”
Jo nodded in my direction. “My Grandma buys a new wardrobe every season and she sends me her cast off.” I answer.
“YOU are wearing Timmy’s grandmother’s hand me downs?” Rose laughed
“It is cashmere. You don’t laugh at Cashmere no matter where it came from.” Pearl responded. “Where did it come from?” Pearl groped at the neck of Jo’s brown sweater and raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows at the name on the tag.
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