“Hair spray.” “Bobby pin.” “Hair spray.” Carmen inspected her masterpiece (A.K.A. my hair), sprayed it one more time, and then scrunched her nose in concentration. “Can I see it yet?” Carmen had my back to the bathroom mirror so I wouldn’t see it until she was completely done. “Almost ready.” She smoothed down a couple more hairs and reached for the hair spray. “If you put any more hairspray on it, it’s going to look more like a helmet, than a hairdo,” Willow declared, “She’s going to a Ball, not for a ride on a crotch rocket.” “She might be by the end of the night…” her joke stopped short with Willow, but Phoebe snickered. “You don’t know how hard the wind’s going to be blowing. We can’t afford to cut any corners.” Carmen chewed on a bobby pin and circled me a couple more times.
