Perfection?

Could her life be any more perfect?

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8. It's

I frowned.

Where the hell did I put my concealer?

My hands scrabbled towards dressing table and searched through the mess of make up, magazines, school work and hair products.

"Ouch." I muttered as my fingers accidently brushed against the hot straightening irons. I grabbed the hidden concealer and dabbed at the remaining freckles.

"Cassie you really need to leave now if you don't want to be late," Dad reminded from downstairs.

"In a minute," I sighed in irritation, blending away the remains of the concealer.

I seriously needed another blending brush.

"Cassie!"

"Alright, alright! I'm leaving now Dad," I called and thumped down the stairs, coat in one hand and bag in the other.

I noticed Dad looking at me strangely as I took the tenner out of his hand.

"What?" I snapped.

"Your freckles. You've covered them." He remarked.

I shrugged, "they were annoying me."

 

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