Read Online Chosen by Jessica Burkhart - Free Book Online Page A

of a break.
    But it wasn’t Skyblue—it was me.
    The accident had shaken me to my bones. My invincibility was gone. But
     every night in the Brooklyn apartment, the accident replayed over and over in my
     head—Skyblue balking and my flying like a rag doll over his head, crashing hard to
     the ground.
    I wasn’t scared to ride, but jumping was a different story. It
     didn’t sound like something I wanted to do for a long time. Cross-country and
     stadium jumping, though, were part of three-day eventing. And if I wanted to be part of
     the team, I knew I’d have to do all three. Dressage alone wasn’t an
     option.
    I knew I’d have to make a decision.

MY BOYFRIEND THE LIAR
    I YANKED MYSELF OUT OF MY MEMORY -slash-daydream and looked at the clock. Forty-five minutes before Taylor’s dad was supposed to arrive to pick me up.
    I hopped off my bed and dashed into the bathroom. I hovered close enough to the mirror to fog it with my breath. I examined my pale skin for any imperfections that may have popped up since I’d last checked the mirror.
    Lucky for my date, nothing but pale skin and a faint spray of half a dozen freckles on each cheek.
    I pulled out my black crushed-velvet vanity chair with a cushy seat and sat in front of my makeup counter. I turned on the makeup lights, unfurling my three-way mirror. It had three different settings—daytime, school (fluorescent lights), and night.
    I set it on night and grabbed my CoverGirl foundation—the lightest shade they made, called “porcelain.” My makeup was a soft, feminine mix of designer and drugstore brands. Becca teased me for it, but I did my makeup the same exact way every time. First, I laid it all out in order of application. I smoothed an ultra-thin layer of foundation on my forehead, cheeks, and chin, followed by concealer dabbed under my eyes.
    Next, I picked up my wide snow-white Clinique brush and ran it over my shimmery peach Nars blush and dusted a hint of color over my cheekbones, nose, and chin. I lined my eyes—a superfine line—with MAC’s Smolder.
    In the glass jar hand-painted with pretty swirls, I picked out my expert MAC eye shadow brush. I dabbed it in light-colored shimmer eye shadow and used the brush to dust it across my lids. A darker shade of brown closer to my lash line defined my eyes. For eyelashes, I used a trick I’d read in a fashion magazine: I blasted my eyelash curler with warm air from my hairdryer for a few seconds. Then, I clamped the curler on my lashes. The heat from the hairdryer would help hold the curl longer. After a coat of waterproof Maybelline brown-black mascara, my eyes were done.
    Finally, I dusted loose powder across my T-zone andapplied a coat of Sephora’s Forever Pink gloss. I inspected the tube—three-fourths of the way gone—and made a note on my light blue Kate Spade mini-notepad to pick up a new one ASAP. It was one of my staples: a barely there pink with lots of light-catching flecks of shimmer. In other words, la glose parfait (aka perfect gloss) for my Friday night movie date with Tay.
    Next stop: hair. I stood in front of the antique floor-length mirror in the corner of my room. The girl inside the chipped ivory frame needed straight hair tonight. I wanted zero waves, not even beauty curl. I plugged in my ceramic flatiron, which took only seconds to heat. I sprayed my hair with a dewy mist of Bumble and bumble Prep to protect it from heat damage, then clipped it up into sections. Twenty minutes later, my hair was down and straight, without being too straight.
    It looked shiny and smooth. By now, I’d perfected the art of a good flat iron. The secret was to lift straight up rather than pull down. I’d finally learned the right way in Union. It gave my hair natural body without being poofy. Pulling straight down made hair look limp and lifeless. It was one of the EBTs (essential beauty tricks) that Ana, Brielle, and I swapped on