Neevah
“Wardrobe took so long this morning,”Takira mutters. “Now we rushing.”
“Girl, it’s my fault. My weight keeps fluctuating. Before Christmas, I was dropping weight, so they took the dresses in. Now I’ve gained some weight, and they had to take them back out. I think I’m retaining water.”
I extend my leg, showing the slightly puffy ankles I noticed this morning.
“I might be ‘retaining’ Mama’s macaroni and cheese, too,” I joke, making us both laugh.
“Your body is probably so confused.” Takira shakes her head, braiding my hair. “All this running around you doing. I can’t wait ’til we’re done so you can rest. Let me get this wig—”
She cuts herself off.
I look up to catch her wide eyes in the mirror.
“What is it, T?”
She gulps and holds out her palm to show me what took her by surprise.
A handful of my hair.
My heart hydroplanes in my chest, spinning with dread and fear. A rash on my arms after too much time in the sun.
Understandable.
A new spot or two on my scalp.
Not unexpected.
Whole clumps of my hair coming out in Takira’s hands?
Alarming.
I swivel around to stare up at Takira, and her eyes reflect the worry building in me.
“Have you talked to Dr. Ansford?” she asks.
“Yeah, off and on, but not since the break. Everything’s been going well.”
I hesitate and then peel the sleeves of my bathrobe back, revealing the dark, dry patches on my arms. I hadn’t paid much attention, but they’ve gotten a little worse since Santa Barbara. I’ve had them before, but there are a few more this time.
“You think this is the beginning of a serious flare-up?” Takira asks. She lifts my chin and scans my face. I know she’s looking for the butterfly rash across my nose and cheeks I’ve had a few times before. “It’s not on your face yet, but between these new patches and your hair, I think you need to be aggressive about getting in with Dr. Ansford.”
I meant to call her after Santa Barbara, but things got so hectic when we started filming after Christmas break. To be honest, it wasn’t a priority . . . until now.
“I’ll call her today on my break.” I turn back around, and grab Dessi’s wig from the nearby mannequin head. I need to refocus for the upcoming scene. “Come on, T. I gotta be on set in fifteen minutes.”
Takira stares at the wig for an extra few seconds. “What you gotta do is take this seriously.”
“I am. I’ve been doing everything Dr. Ansford instructed. We’ve been filming for months with no real signs of trouble, and now that we have some symptoms, I’ll address them.”
“Stress feeds this, and what’s more stressful than the situation you’ve been in? Dancing eight, nine hours a day? You’re in almost every scene? It’s a lot, Neev.”
“And it’s almost over. I don’t need them to start doubting me now. I have to finish strong.” I jiggle the wig. “Speaking of, make me Dessi?”
“Okay, but I’m not letting you off the hook. If you don’t talk to Dr. Ansford today, I’ll go to Canon myself.”
“The hell you will. If there’s a problem that will hinder my performance, I’ll notify the producers. Until that time, let me decide what I’m capable of, okay? Canon’s not just my . . .”