Mark gave me a pair of his earrings. They’re silver studs with a dangly loop piece and I’m wearing them now. I’m in the little room listening to Adam and the Ants and trying to see my whole face in the compact mirror I grabbed from my purse. The earring style aren’t really something I would buy for myself, but that’s not really the point. They’re Mark’s and I’ve never giving them back, no matter what happens.

That Tanya girl with the braces is gone now. We don’t talk about her. Everyone makes mistakes, although I still can’t figure out why he would have gone for her in the first place. I’ll bet he didn’t give her a pair of his earrings.

I swear Mark has more jewelry than I do. And more sticks of eyeliner. My Mom always rolls her eyes when he comes to pick me up and my Dad just shakes his head. Once, he asked if I was sure that Mark liked me, if I was sure he actually liked girls. I didn’t talk to either of my parents for a week. What a stupid question. All the guys I know wear eyeliner and have their ears pierced. It’s not a big deal. It doesn’t mean anything.

I guess it is kind of weird sometimes when we’re getting ready to go out and we’re both standing in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom at his house, putting on our eyeliner at the same time.

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Image: Smash Hits, June 1981. Photograph by LFI, Redferns.

Welcome to the Little Room is a series of 250-word re-imagined vignettes from my ’80s youth with a focus on music and style. It appears weekly on periodicult.com.

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