Rule #6: Dress Code
No Pink.
-()-
As expected, the first meeting of prom committee did not go as well as I planned, since I a) was forced to introduce myself b) got detention for yanking a pencil out of some nerd's mouth (she wouldn't stop making weird chewing noises)Â and c) accidentally dropped my cupcake. Usually, I would consider annoying a nerd a success, but now my detention count has reached ten.
Which means a call to my parents.
Mom's already pissed off at me because of the gym issue, so she's not going to be pleased when they inform her that I'm on my way to breaking the school record of detentions. The most detentions a student has gotten is twelve.
It looks like nobody knows how to have fun in this school.
In order to appease my mother, I promised I would take Melody and myself to the barber shop today, since she's been complaining about the state of our hair for weeks now. I examine my hair in one of the windows. The roots are turning blonde again, so it would be nice to dye it black.
I decide to surprise Melody at her cheerleading practice after school, since she explicitly warned me to stay away from it.
Just when I'm about to enter the gym, though, I spot two people talking inside. One of them is Archer, whose hair is wet and chest is bare, and the other is Coach Watson. I stop in my tracks and turn to leave.
It's too late.
"Peyton!" Coach Watson yells. "I need to talk you."
Reluctantly, I trudge my feet inside the gym, trying to keep my eyes off a shirtless Archer.
"We need to talk about your detention. It's nothing too bad, just cleaning a hallway or two," He says, raising an eyebrow. "Is next Monday after school good enough for you?"
"I can't."
"Why not?"
I hesitate, then tell the truth. "I have another detention that day."
"Alright." Both of his eyebrows are raised now. "How about Tuesday?"
I shake my head.
Archer snorts in amusement. Both of us ignore him.
Coach Watson sighs, although his lips quirk in amusement. "How about you tell a date and I'll write it down, okay?"
"Wednesday is good for me," I shrug. "Can I go now? I have to meet my sister."
"Okay, let me just write this down," He scribbles down a few details on a piece of paper - Peyton Monroe, 12th grade, hit a student with a baseball bat - while I wait anxiously, shifting my weight from side to side. I can sense Archer's gaze on me, but I stare at the ground without acknowledging him.
Finally, Coach Watson hands me the slip of pink paper. I snatch it from his hands and turn around, ready to run, when I hit somebody's bare chest. It's still wet from the water.
"Move," I snap, flushing, and run.
When I'm out of sight, I sprint out of the building and hide behind a couple of bushes with my skateboard tucked under me. I take deep breath. My face is probably a dark shade of red by now. Maybe pissing Melody off can wait until morning.
So I lie down in the grass until I can hear Melody's voices.
They're too far away for me to actually hear the words, but I manage to make out the sound of their scornful laughter and their mocking tone when they speak. My best guess would be they're making fun of somebody. I wonder if it's a nerd. I used to make fun of nerds.
"See you, guys!" Melody comes closer to the bushes. I hear the familiar click of buttons on a smartphone. "Damn her, where the fuck is she?"
"Right here." I pop my head from the bushes.
Melody screams.
"What the hell are you doing?" She hisses, her eyes darting from side to side to make sure nobody sees us. "You're in a bush, Peyton. Where are you doing in a fucking bush? There are leaves all over you - god, whoever's dying your hair is going to hate you - get out of there."
"No need to be so pushy," I protest as she drags me out of the bushes.
Melody ignores me and storms off to the way to the barber shop. I roll my eyes, pull some leaves out of my hair and follow her.
The salon is only fifteen minutes away, but with Melody's brisk pace, we reach there in ten. I hide my skateboard behind some rocks next to the building. When I enter the barbershop, Melody's busy talking to some customer next to her, refusing to meet my eyes.
Melody gets her hair done first. While she's pampered by a man with a gorgeous beard, I engross myself into National Geographic magazine, which has interesting feature on wildlife photographers and how they take pictures. When Melody's done, it's my turn.
"Don't leave me," I remind her.
"You have twig stuck in your hair, near your left year," She murmurs back, not looking at me. I watch her sit down in a chair and close her eyes.
I shake my head and walk over the countertop. A lady with bright red lips and sleek black hair waits for me with a patient smile. I sit on her chair and lean back, examining myself in the mirror. My skin is paler than it used to be, but I don't know why, considering I spent more time outside than ever before.
"You have such beautiful hair," The girl runs her fingers through my hair. She has a slight lisp. "Would you like a trim as well, or just the dye?"
"Just the dye, thank you."
My eyes are fixated on Melody. She's finished with her conversation with the boy and is busy examining some of the hair products nearby. Every once and a while, she'll glance at me nervously, but I have no idea why. It's freaking me out.
"And you're sure about the color?"
That's a strange question to ask, I think, watching Melody. "Yeah."
"Alright," She tilts my hair back with her cold fingers. "Try to relax then, sweetheart. This shouldn't take too long."
Banishing all thoughts of Melody, I close my eyes.
-()-
"Your sister wanted me to tell you that she had to leave," The lady explains after she cuts off the hairdryer. She combs through my hair briskly. "I think she said it was an emergency or something like that."
Of course, she did.
I scowl.
The lady fluffs my hair one last time. "Alright, I'm done. You can open your eyes now."
With a sigh of relief, I sit up straight and open my eyes. It takes a minute for them to adjust in the white light, but when they do, I turn to myself in the mirror.
And freeze.
"What the hell?" I jump up from my seat to make sure I'm seeing properly. At first, I don't believe that I'm looking at myself. But the girl in the mirror has the same face as me, the same clothes as me and the same body. But that hair -
"What'd you do to me?" I demand, turning from side, as if the angle could change what I'm seeing.
"You told me to dye it-"
"I told to die it black! Not pink!"
I turn over to examine the monstrosity on my scalp.
Instead of the dark and ruthless coat of black I was expecting to see, my hair is a sweet and soft shade of pink.
And not just any pink. It's the most vibrant, lightest shade of pink to ever show in existence. It probably glows in the dark and attracts butterflies. The type that looks like it should belong on the head of a main character in an anime. The type that looks like it should be spinning around a cotton candy machine in a carnival fair.
How am I supposed to instill fear in people with pink?
I turn around and snarl at the hairdresser. "I told you to dye it black. Does this look like black to you?"
"Your sister told me that you changed your mind to pink!" She protests, taking a step back.
"My sister?" And then I realize. Melody. "My sister."
Of course. No wonder she decided to leave early, that coward. It takes me a second to realize that everybody in the store is watching us. I brush my cotton-candy hair back and sigh. "You know what? Just forgot it."
The lady starts to stutter, but shuts up when I slam two twenty dollar bills on the counter.
"Keep the change."
And then I storm out.
-()-
Maybe I should bleach it.
No, no. That's too dangerous. I pace around my room, trying to come up with ideas so I could make a list on what I should do with my hair. I can't dye it again, because I don't want to waste any more money, but I don't want to go to school like this either.
Sharpie?
No.
I collapse on my bed with a groan.
My life is ruined.
Not only does pink attract attention, it attracts all sorts of the wrong ones. I want my hair to say 'fear me, you pathetic fools' not 'hi, come and make friends with me so we can watch chick flicks together!'.
I tug my beanie lower, just in case somebody can see the pink strands. Even though there's nobody around me. Then, I sniff sadly, wishing I could listen to my sad music. It's too bad that I lost my headphones a couple of days ago, so I can't listen to any music anymore, not unless I want everybody else to listen to it too.
My phone pings again. Another message from Irene. She's been texting me with random health facts all day. I check to see what it is this time.
Irene: did you know that cherries can cause your cancer cells to commit suicide? but only if you eat them.
Peyton: Cool.
Irene: is that all you have to say about the cancer-killing cherries? :/
Peyton: Yes.
Irene:Â ok, fine. be that way. ive got plenty more facts about fruits. there was this really interesting one about hangovers. just wait a minute.
I reply before Irene can text me the hangover fact. I haven't told my friends about the pink hair issue yet, probably because they'd find the situation hilarious and ask me to send a picture. I pull my beanie down even further before texting her back.
Peyton: Irene, I've got an issue.
Irene: with Arthur?
Peyton: Archer. And no. I need to find out another way to make people scared off me. My looks and attitude aren't doing enough.
Irene: try taking off your makeup.
Irene: :D
I roll my eyes so hard that I give myself a headache.
Peyton: I'm serious.
Irene: wait, why do you want to scare people?
Peyton: For the same reason I did in your high school.
Irene: but gwen and xaiver were there. you wanted to be scary to scare them off. there's nobody to scare at your high school, is there?
I think of Derek.
Peyton: Yes, there is.
Irene: oh :/
Irene: did you know that banana milkshakes can get rid off hangovers?
I smack my forehead.
Somebody knocks on the door. "Peyton?"
"I'm here," My dark mood lightens up a bit. Besides James, dad is the only person in my family that I can stand. The group used to include Melody too, until she became a traitor.
Dad enters the room. "Hey kiddo."
"Hi."
"Mom told me about your hair fiasco."
"Fiasco would be an understatement," I snort. "Is Melody with you? I need to kill her."
"She's not with me and we're not going to sort things out that way, alright? Now, take off your hat. I want to see your hair. It can't be that bad."
I pull off my hat.
Strands of pink hair fall over my face, shimmering in the light, casting sparkles all over my room. It's like a beacon for unicorns and all things sweet and good. I scowl down at my hat, not saying anything. I've never hated my appearance more before than now.
"It doesn't look that bad," He says, ignoring my pointed glare. "You look cute."
"I don't want to look cute. I want to look scary."
"Well, we can't have everything. You look pretty scary to me."
"You're just saying that to make me feel better."
Dad opens his mouth, probably to sprout some more lies, like how I intimidate him or something, when I hear the door open. Faint voices come from outside. I recognize one of them. Melody. So she's finally returned home.
"Peyton!" Dad warns, but I'm already halfway out the door.
Melody runs into the backyard, but she barely makes it beyond the porch before I catch up to her. I push her to the sand, off the porch, not enough to hurt her. But she gasps in pain when she falls to the ground. I wait until she stands up again before speaking.
I cross my arms. "Explain yourself."
Melody brushes off the sand on her jeans. "It was just a prank."
"I find that hard to believe."
My hair flails in the wind. Pink strands, shimmering in the rustic light of the sunset, block my vision as they fly in my face. I tuck them behind my arms, waiting for Melody's response.
"Fine," She heaves a sigh. "I was trying to prove a point. You act like the reason everybody avoids you is because of the way you look, but when really, it's about your screw-everybody personality."
"So, dying my hair is going to prove, what - that I'm still anti-social even when I look like that weird girl from Lazytown? That's the most ridiculous idea I've heard from my life."
"You'll see," Melody says. "You'll be thanking me one day."
"Trust me, I won't."
-()-
Fun Fact: The original for this book was Paw Prints, because of Peyton's love for animals.
"...."
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/)....)
""
You know who this is. You know what to do.
Anyways, I just want to say thank you so much for voting, commenting and adding my story to your reading lists. Each one makes my day a little bit brighter.
And as always, thanks for reading!
QotC: What's the craziest thing you ever done with your hair?