Pumpkin
Bonnie.
"Analeigh Rose! What the hell have you done to your hair?!"
Fuck.
"It's the style."
It looked as if my mom was going to have a stroke. Her brown eyes were wide with shock, hand gripping her heart, and her face had drained of all color. My hair used to be down to my lower back, it was now all hacked of and reached the middle of my neck. Quite frankly, it looked like shit. I did a terrible job on it. It wasn't even at all-this wasn't what I meant by becoming a new person. Now it just looks like some kid with Tourettes cut it for me.
How could I start a 'new life' with this head of hair? I look ridiculous.
"Get in the car," my mother said simply, grabbing her keys and walking outside. "Thank God," I murmured.
As per usual the car ride was silent, no radio, no small chat, nothing. I half expected Bonnie to interrogate me and complain about how silly I look, that I should throw on a Black Flag shirt and start punching people in the face, but I remembered how my mom was the complete opposite of that. She was quiet, stoic, and very to herself. That was one of the reasons it's so quiet in my house, my dad is the exact same way. Sometimes I just wish that one of them would throw a plate, scream at each other, show any kind of emotion. It's so frustrating to watch them at times. When the whole cheating scandal came about it
was even worse. They tried to play it off like nothing happened, I can only imagine what therapy was like for them.
To make my embarrassment worse the hair stylist laughed at me when I sat down in the seat. She laughed so hard that she left the room and a new stylist had to take care of me. She was warm and an absolute delight. Her name was Kat, she was twenty one, and she was from Scotland. Absolutely everything about her was cool. Her white/blonde hair, her nose ring, and the cut up shirt she was wearing. So far she was the nicest person in this cold shit hole and damn she knew how to work a pair of scissors. No more 'layers' as I called them, it was short in the back and longer in the front. They have a name for this style. A cut? Hell if I know, but it looked great and I was very pleased with it. It got a bit awkward when she hugged me though. I was never much of a hugger.
"Aye, girly," she said before I walked out. "Got a number?"
My heart rushed, she wanted my number? "Uh.." Was my intellectual response. She laughed a bit and shook her head, "Oi, get your panties out of a bunch, I'm not hitting on you. Just want to make plans, hang out."
I don't even remember writing down my number for her or paying, I just remember the thudding in my chest as I walked out. I was going to have plans.
Fuck.
"It's the style."
It looked as if my mom was going to have a stroke. Her brown eyes were wide with shock, hand gripping her heart, and her face had drained of all color. My hair used to be down to my lower back, it was now all hacked of and reached the middle of my neck. Quite frankly, it looked like shit. I did a terrible job on it. It wasn't even at all-this wasn't what I meant by becoming a new person. Now it just looks like some kid with Tourettes cut it for me.
How could I start a 'new life' with this head of hair? I look ridiculous.
"Get in the car," my mother said simply, grabbing her keys and walking outside. "Thank God," I murmured.
As per usual the car ride was silent, no radio, no small chat, nothing. I half expected Bonnie to interrogate me and complain about how silly I look, that I should throw on a Black Flag shirt and start punching people in the face, but I remembered how my mom was the complete opposite of that. She was quiet, stoic, and very to herself. That was one of the reasons it's so quiet in my house, my dad is the exact same way. Sometimes I just wish that one of them would throw a plate, scream at each other, show any kind of emotion. It's so frustrating to watch them at times. When the whole cheating scandal came about it
was even worse. They tried to play it off like nothing happened, I can only imagine what therapy was like for them.
To make my embarrassment worse the hair stylist laughed at me when I sat down in the seat. She laughed so hard that she left the room and a new stylist had to take care of me. She was warm and an absolute delight. Her name was Kat, she was twenty one, and she was from Scotland. Absolutely everything about her was cool. Her white/blonde hair, her nose ring, and the cut up shirt she was wearing. So far she was the nicest person in this cold shit hole and damn she knew how to work a pair of scissors. No more 'layers' as I called them, it was short in the back and longer in the front. They have a name for this style. A cut? Hell if I know, but it looked great and I was very pleased with it. It got a bit awkward when she hugged me though. I was never much of a hugger.
"Aye, girly," she said before I walked out. "Got a number?"
My heart rushed, she wanted my number? "Uh.." Was my intellectual response. She laughed a bit and shook her head, "Oi, get your panties out of a bunch, I'm not hitting on you. Just want to make plans, hang out."
I don't even remember writing down my number for her or paying, I just remember the thudding in my chest as I walked out. I was going to have plans.
♠ ♠ ♠
Hey everyone, I appreciate the comments and want to clear up that yes it is a fanfiction, but that's not what the main plot of the story is, it's only a side story. Keep being awesome!