P.S. I Hate You

“Sweetie? You gotta cut it.”

“No I don’t. Try harder, Jaz. And don’t call me that,” I add, closing my eyes. It’s about ten in the evening and I just got off of work. I left Benji downstairs with her dog as we try and get the band out. I’d managed to hide it at work, pulling all my hair up in a ridiculous bun. But even with her help, it’s just not working.

“Come on, I can cut hair, and I’d love to cut yours,” she pouts.

“But I don’t want it cut as it is!”

“Kiley…”

“He’ll win!”

“Win what?” She gives an aggravated sigh. “I know, he’s stupid, but what is he really winning in this one?”

“The- the satisfaction in making me adjust to something he did!” I sputter uselessly, and scowl in her vanity mirror. She just crosses her arms and gives me a look. After a while though, it’s just too much. I groan, and slouch in her hair. “Fine. Do it quick, though.” I shut my eyes quickly, making her laugh as she goes to grab her supplies.

So forty minutes later, my hair is shorter than I would like. It’s longer in the front, shortening in the back very much. Wrinkling my nose in the mirror, I observe it carefully, touching it and trying to decide if I like it.

“See?” Jaz whines. “It’s pretty and totally hott. I promise.” She grabs another mirror to show me the back, which she spiked a little, messing around with it because it’s just so short.

“It’s… short.”

“And cute!”

“So short!” I just stare at it. Running my fingers through it, it ends too soon. “Ehk. It’s weird.”

“Hott! Now stop complaining and take your cute brother home already,” she pushes me out of the chair, laughing. “I promise, when you wake up, you’ll love it. And it’ll be easier to wash.”

“But harder to style,” I correct, turning on her at the stairs. “But thanks,” I sigh, and wrap my arms around her. “You’re too cool.”

“I know, it’s almost a sin,” she rolls her eyes. “But we do what we can, right?”

“Yep.” We reach downstairs and Benji comes running over, flushed from playing around with their great hound. “Ready to go, bud?”

“Your hair,” he stares.

“I know,” I wrinkle my nose. “I’m going to kill Caleb.”

“Why?” He frowns, confused.

“Cause he put a rubber band in my hair. The only way I got it out was to cut it,” I shrug.

“But it looks good, so you should thank him,” he says innocently.

Ah, the kid knows nothing. Jaz snorts and I just give an aggravated sigh. “You’re still young, Benji. But we need to go now, cause it’s dark. Bye Jaz, love you.”

“Love you, doll face,” she sings, closing the door behind us, and we’re left to the evening to walk home. Cheers.

Mom and Gerald can only stare at my hair. I guess they had gone out for a while, so we were barely inside when they finally come home, too. For a minute they aren’t sure what to say, and then mother speaks. “Your hair… did a dog attack you?” She frowns, coming forwards to inspect it.

“Thanks,” I say dryly, and twirl to show her but not allow her hands to touch. “It’s nothing, just a hair cut. I… wanted to try something new,” I lie.

Gerald makes a face. “It makes you look like a punk.”

“Aren’t I?” I grin.

“Now, now,” Mother interrupts before he can say anything, patting his shoulders. “She’s just… well, expressing herself. And it’ll grow out. Why don’t we go to bed, dear? It’s been a long day.” And that’s all that’s said about the day.

Speaking of which, this means they must have been gone when called about my detention… I glance at the now empty stairs and smiling a little, walk over to the family phone. I run through the messages and delete every single one of them, mostly cause they weren’t important. Including the detention one.

Life can be pretty good, perhaps, when your ‘rents just don’t care all that much…