told you. Itâs way too early for them to ask for ID.â We walk through the rooms of the old warehouse with its high ceilings and metal scaffolding. Iron doors. Posters for concerts. Bistro tables.
âI have to pee,â I say. I go to the white-tiled wash-room. Have a pee, wash my hands. I see this face in the mirror.
On one side of me another girl is washing her hands. On the other side someone is doing her eye makeup. She gives me a short, blank look. I wonder what sheâs thinking.
I know what sheâs thinking. And I know what the other girl is thinking, too. I look at myself in the mirror and I know they can both tell how long I stood in front of my closet, how long I spent doing my makeup.
And through all of this, I can still see myself. I can still see me.
Lauraâs waiting outside the washroom. I stand beside her against the wall, sink down until Iâm sitting on the floor.
âWhatâs the matter?â she says.
âNothing.â
âThen smile!â
The eye-makeup girl comes out of the washroom and looks down at me. Her eyes are black.
âI donât belong here, Laura.â
âWhy not?â she asks.
âBecause I donât fit in. Look around. Iâm just fifteen...â
âBut you donât look fifteen right now, you dummy.â
âYes, but thatâs what I am and I know it. It doesnât matter if the bouncer lets me in because he thinks Iâm eighteen. I know Iâm not.â
âSo why is that a problem? Iâm not eighteen either.â
âBut youâre different.â
For a minute Laura looks as though sheâs going to say something. Then she slides down the wall to sit beside me.
âGod, Miriam, nothing can ever be right with you, can it?â
âWhat do you mean?â
âThereâs always got to be something wrong. I mean, here you are, but youâre not happy, the bouncer thinks youâre eighteen, and youâre mad because youâre not. What is it you want, then, Miriam?â
âI donât know.â I shrug and watch the people on the dance floor.
âOkay, tonight Iâm going to be your fairy godmother,â she says.
âYouâre drunk,â I laugh.
But she grabs my wrist and looks into my eyes.
âNo, really. Today Iâm your fairy godmother. Today you can make a wish, and it will come true.â
âOh, yeah? Okay. Iâll make a wish and youâll grant it.â
Laura nods.
âI want to have a good time tonight.â
âAnd how will that happen?â
Laura is still holding tightly onto my wrist. It actually hurts a bit.
âIâll drink and dance, and the music will be good. And Iâll kiss someone and fall in love a bit. And I wonât throw up.â
Laura looks at me with her big green eyes all serious, and doesnât say anything. Then she kisses me on the cheek.
âYour wish is my command.â She doesnât let go of me. Laura is quite short, even a bit shorter than I am, but she pushes her way through the crowd like a bouncer and drags me to the bar. We find a couple of spots right at the bar and she waves the bartender over.
âThis young lady needs something good to drink,â Laura tells him.
âOh, really? What will the young lady have, then?â âSomething good. Look at her and think what she would like,â Laura says.
I stare at all the bottles behind the bar. It must be niceto be a bartender and know how to make every drink.
The bartender looks at me. âOkay then.â And a little later thereâs a sugar-rimmed glass with a straw sitting in front of me. I let Laura try it. Then we are jostled over to the dance floor. Itâs already pretty full. Laura takes a sip of my drink. Itâs sweet and sour at the same time, tastes more like lemonade than alcohol.
Then a song comes on that I really like â Jamiroquai. I start to hum along, but no one can hear