‘Yes, sir,’ says Sammy, saluting her.

I swallow back the laughter and let tears stream down my face as I sit down on the chair and offer my face to Irina in the mirror. She wipes away the wet with her fingertips and touches the lump, whistling through her teeth.

‘You must never try to run away again. It could have been much, much worse.’

I nod. I don’t even try to explain that I was not trying to run away, that I only needed to run.

She turns to Sammy. ‘And you must learn to control your temper.’

A tic above Sammy’s right eye twitches violently as she nods, silent. I’m glad of the make-up, the mask, as Irina’s expert fingers cover me in colours and textures that are not my own. I allow my eyes to snap into focus and really see the girl that is facing her: hardened and hidden. Is this what a man would see if he let himself see, or would he squint and imagine a girl who’s enjoying herself as much as him? What I do to the clouds is what these men do to us: create things in the air that do not exist.

36. Sammy

36

Sammy

This time there are five of us in the car: Ling, the sisters, and Nico and me. The skinny whistling kid is our chauffeur. The sisters make sure to sit as far from the loopy blonde girl as they can, and I can feel Nico’s body tense, her ribcage held high, her breath caught inside. We drive for over an hour. I know I should be trying to lighten the mood but I don’t have a joke, or a lyric, or a swipe in me.

We pull up outside a massive hotel, a conference centre, a place where business men come to do whatever it is they do. It might be one of those joints near the airport where Dad sometimes stays if he has a red-eye the next morning, but I couldn’t tell with all the twists and turns the driver took, as well as my overdose of Mr Floaty. I’m doing that blurry thing with my eyes that Nico taught me, and I intend on getting blankety-blank again. The receptionist stands to attention as soon as he sees the party of girls, and I swear to fuck the little shit wrinkles his nose at us, especially the dark sisters. He runs his eyes up and down them appraisingly, looking unsure about the quality of the batch sent to him. Better watch out, they might construct a doll of you later, buster! That’s inspired. Let’s all do that. Let’s all make dollies and stick pins in them. Glad to find my sense of humour hasn’t totally failed me.