by Kant, Komal
I paused. This situation could go either way. Alone time with Three could become a problem. I was starting to see the sexual tension build between us and knew he would soon start making a move on me. I mean, I couldn’t blame him. That was the natural progression in a relationship; I just wasn’t ready to go there yet. Lincoln was the last boy I’d been with—I wanted to keep it that way for a while.
Besides, I had something else on my mind.
When I stared at myself in the mirror, I liked seeing a different girl staring back. But I wanted to go further than simply changing my clothes and wearing heavier makeup; I wanted to do something so crazy that I looked and felt like a completely different person.
Even wild, boy crazy Mariah was giving me grief for trying to reinvent myself. I had thought that she at least would understand, but she didn’t.
It was time to stop being the girl everyone expected me to be. It was time for me to be who I needed to be.
“I might have an idea,” I said with a slow smile.
***
“Your hair is purple!” my mom gasped. “It’s purple!” She was practically shrieking as she stared at me with wide eyes, her mouth hanging open.
I’d barely taken one step into the kitchen doorway before Mom had started freaking out. Dad was handling it a little better. He sat calmly at the kitchen table with his laptop open in front of him as he regarded me with a mild look.
“Maybe she’s trying to be one of those tiny, purple things from that movie with the grumpy, hooked-nose man?” Dad suggested with a shrug of his shoulder.
I immediately caught his Despicable Me 2 reference, but I was pretty sure it had flown over Mom’s head because her expression stayed mostly the same. Pissed. That was the only way to describe the way she looked.
“Dad, I’m not trying to be a minion,” I responded with a roll of my eyes.
Dad shrugged a shoulder. “Well, I had to attempt to justify your crazy decision somehow.”
“I happen to think it’s very fashion forward,” Three said from behind me, making me jump.
I’d almost forgotten that he’d followed me into the house. Less for moral support and more for the fact that I’d told him my mom had made pasta for dinner. Apparently, he liked food.
Mom gave him a withering look to end all withering looks, as though he was to blame for all of this. “Three, you don’t get a say in Swinton family matters.”
“I’m getting my shotgun,” Dad said at the exact same time, rising from the table without taking his eyes off Three.
Trying to relax, I shot Three an apologetic smile. My dad didn’t own a toy gun, let alone a shotgun. Plus, he was a lawyer. The scariest thing about him was his extensive vocabulary.
“Three, I think it’s best if you leave,” Mom said, her expression still grim. “We would like to speak to Hadie alone.”
“Sure thing,” Three said, seeming unaffected by her seriousness. “See ya later, Hadie.”
As he turned to leave, Chance and Halo both jumped up, wagging their tails and following him out of the kitchen. I could tell from the way Three lifted up his hands to avoid their excited licks that he wasn’t much of a dog fan.
For some reason, this small behavior made a weird feeling worm into my stomach. It never made sense to me how someone couldn’t love dogs.
Three had barely stepped out of the house before my mom exploded on me. “Hadassah Swinton, how could you dye your hair PURPLE without clearing it with your father or me first?”
“Did you get a tramp stamp, too?” Dad asked, his tone conversational.
I tried not to giggle.
“Peter!” my mom yelled, her tone piercing. “This is not a joke! I don’t find it funny that her hair is PURPLE!”
Dad sighed, turning hazel eyes onto me. “Your mother is right. You should’ve asked us first, Hadie. Chances are we would’ve said no, but you also would’ve avoided the agony that you have inflicted upon your mother.”
Mom shot him a glare before training her laser beam gaze back on me. “I want you to go to counseling.”
Irritation flashed through me, and I shook my head. “What? No! I went for a week and it didn’t help! Why do I have to go again?”
She gestured at my hair. “Isn’t it obvious why? And this won’t be one-on-one counseling; it’s a support group for teenagers.”
I gaped at her, then at Dad, then back at her again. “Are you freaking kidding me? A support group? Like I’m some sort of recovering crack addict?”
“No, Hadie, it’s a support group for kids who have experienced grief, loss, depression, just about everything,” she corrected. “And you’re going because I can see that the things you’re doing to yourself are a cry for attention.”
“This is a joke!” I cried, folding my arms across my chest. “Just because I dyed my hair?”
“Really, Hadie?” Mom’s tone turned dangerous, and fear shot through me like whiskey. “You think this is just about your hair? No, it’s about the smell of alcohol and cigarettes that lingers on you and your clothes.”
I stopped breathing, but my heart was pounding faster than ever. I’d thought my parents had no idea about all that, but I guess I had underestimated their naivety.
“We’re not idiots, Hadie,” Dad joined in, his tone just as serious as Mom’s.
Now that I had been caught out, I was at a loss for words. I knew I was going to be in a lot of trouble if I didn’t go to this stupid support group, but I didn’t want to sit in a room with strangers and talk about my problems.
“I’m trying to help you,” Mom said, her voice a little more gentle. “So you’re going to go to the support group, you’re going to dye your hair back to brown, and you’re going to stop spending time with Three.”
“What? No!” I stared at her in disbelief, wondering how I could handle life without spending nights drinking with Three. “This wasn’t his idea!”
“Hadie, you may think that, but you weren’t acting like this when you were with Lincoln,” Dad pointed out.
His words hit me like a kick to the gut, and I stumbled back a little, feeling out of breath. Dad was so right, yet at the same time it was dawning on me that my parents didn’t understand me either.
“Yeah, but Lincoln’s not here anymore,” I muttered bitterly.
With that, I turned and headed into my room, wanting to be away from the parents I normally adored.
Chapter Eight
Eddie
“Holy shit balls,” Riley gasped, staring at something down the hall.
The five of us turned our heads in the direction of his gaze, immediately catching sight of what he’d seen. Or whom. It was kind of hard to miss, unless you were colorblind.
Hadie’s hair was purple. And not in a metaphorical sense. It was purple, like the color of grape juice. Or an eggplant. Or the color of a politician’s face when they were asked a particularly difficult question they didn’t know the answer to.
“Whoa,” Luca said.
“Ooh!” That was Elly.
“What the hell?” Stacey asked in disbelief.
“Um, wow,” Ashton squeaked, darting a glance at me.
I said nothing. I was too transfixed by the stranger making her way down the hall towards me. She was still beautiful, but without her brown locks it was hard to imagine her as Hadie. A part of me really liked it, but another part of me wondered how normal it was for Hadie to be making such radical changes to her appearance.
Estella and Mariah were also with Hadie, and looked just as perplexed as we all felt. Every single student in the hallway was gaping at her, probably wondering who she was and what she had done with Hadie Swinton.
I was wondering the same thing myself.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Kance Logan, the school’s mean girl, staring at Hadie in disgust as she stood with Hadie’s jock ex-boyfriend, Bennett, and the other “popular” kids. Bennett was also watching Hadie, but appeared more amazed than anything else.
Kanc
e glanced around and also noticed how fixated he was, and elbowed him rather aggressively before turning in the opposite direction and walking off, with Bennett and their friends following after her.
“Hadie!” I called out, just as she was about to walk right past me.
She had been making it a point to avoid eye contact with everyone, but glanced up when she heard my voice.
“Hey,” she said, a little halfheartedly as she stopped short of me.
I was pretty sure if I hadn’t spoken to her first, she wouldn’t have acknowledged me. The irritation that flared inside of me at that thought surprised me. I quickly pushed it away and forced a smile on my face. I probably looked stupid, but I didn’t care.
“Your hair is purple,” I said, just as stupidly as I assumed my smile looked.
“It is,” she said with a blank expression.
“It looks awesome!” Ashton enthused with a dazzling smile that probably didn’t look as idiotic as mine.
“Thanks,” Hadie said, her voice devoid of any emotion.
An awkward silence ensued in which Estella and Mariah both gave me encouraging nods. If her best friends were on my side then I wasn’t going to give up that easily.
“Uh, could I talk to you for a sec? Alone?” I asked, pointedly looking at my friends who were pretending not to listen in on us.
“Um, sure,” she responded, not seeming thrilled by the idea of having a private conversation with me.
Wow. This was so unlike us. Prior to Lincoln’s death—and the weeks after it—we’d always had a good relationship, always been able to easily talk about anything. It was crazy how quickly and dramatically things could change. I wasn’t even sure if we knew how to talk to each other anymore.
“We’ll just, uh, let you talk alone,” Riley said with a sly wink as he walked past me.
“See you around, Eddie!” Mariah said brightly.
As our friends left us standing in the hallway, I tried to ignore the other students who were still staring at Hadie, and tried to gather some sort of composure.
“So, why the drastic change?” I asked, trying to ease her into a conversation.
Something about my question seemed to have rubbed her the wrong way, because she narrowed her eyes at me and pursed her lips.
“Why? There’s nothing wrong with dyeing my hair!” She snapped, balling her hands up into fists.
“Whoa, chill.” She had completely taken my words the wrong way. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I think it looks cool. I’m not gonna judge you, Hadie. Look at me.” I gestured at myself with both hands. “I have tattoos and piercings, and according to the people in this town, I play “devil music”. So who am I to judge you?”
“True.” Hadie visibly relaxed, and she unclenched her hands. “So why did you want to talk to me?”
From her tone, I could tell she wanted me to get to the point so that she could leave. I guess I wasn’t interesting enough to hold her attention. The thought made an uneasiness stir in the pit of my stomach, but I pushed it away and tried to act normal.
“Well, other than wanting to see how you were doing, I also wanted to give you this.” I pulled my backpack off my shoulder and unzipped it. My eyes fell on the bright pink thing inside, and I took it out and handed it to her.
Hadie stared at it with a raised brow as she took it from me. “A book? You wanted to give me a book?”
“Yeah.” I nodded, zipping my bag up again and slinging it back on my shoulder. “I thought maybe you could find something in that was relatable.”
She stared down at the copy of P.S. I Love You with wide eyes. Most people had seen the movie—Hilary Swank’s character is dealing with the death of her husband, Gerard Butler’s character, who wants her to find happiness and continue living her life.
Hadie didn’t say anything for a while, but I could that her eyes were becoming a little misty.
I cleared my throat, and she glanced up sharply as though she’d forgotten I was still standing here. “I’ve seen the movie,” she said shortly, reaching out to hand me the book.
I neatly sidestepped her, refusing to take it back. “Well, I hear the book is always better than the movie.”
“I don’t read anymore,” she said, her voice as blank as her expression. “Stories and happy endings are just crap fed to us so that we forget about our own miserable lives for a brief moment.”
I stared at her in shock, unable to believe the words coming out of her mouth. This was Hadie Swinton. Avid reader. Romance lover. Now she was telling me that it was all crap. What the hell?
“You know that’s not true, right? People still have happy endings in real life.”
“Yeah, okay.” Her tone was skeptical as though I was trying to convince her that the Tooth Fairy was real. “Well, I gotta get to class,” she said, like I was taking up too much of her time.
My stomach clenched at her words. She couldn’t stand to be around me anymore. It was like I’d done something wrong, but I couldn’t figure out what that was.
As she started to walk past me, clutching the book to her chest, an overwhelming feeling surged through me, and I reached out and grabbed her hand. “Hadie, wait.”
Hadie’s eyes grew as she stopped walking, and there was a vulnerability in her face that I hadn’t seen in a long time. “Yes?”
There was so much I wanted to say; so much I wanted to ask her, but I couldn’t figure out how to put it into words. Instead, I went with the simplest question that I could think of.
“Are you okay?” My eyes searched hers, and I really hoped she could see how much I cared about her. Because I did. Deeply. I cared for her so much that I knew it was my weakness.
Something in Hadie’s icy demeanor cracked. Her expression softened for the tiniest of seconds. Then just as quickly she was cold again.
“I’m fine,” she clearly lied, tucking a strand of her bright, purple hair behind her ear. “See you around, Eddie.”
“See ya,” I responded faintly, staring after her as she walked through the throng of students, acting oblivious to their stares.
“You look like you have a lot on your mind.” Ashton’s tinkling voice broke into my thoughts as she stepped beside me.
I glanced around to find Luca also standing with her. Both of them were studying me with a mixture of sadness and sympathy on their faces.
It wasn’t hard to figure out what those looks were for. Usually, I was the calm, composed one who had all the answers, but lately I’d been doing a pretty crappy job of hiding my feelings.
What could I say? Hadie Swinton was my undoing.
“It’s hard to believe how someone can change so drastically in such a short amount of time,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief as the four of us moved aside to sit down on an empty bench against the wall.
“I can,” Ashton said, giving me a meaningful look before easing down beside me. She stretched out her long legs that were clad in stockings, and stared down at her brown boots.
Even though she was my best friend’s girlfriend, it was hard to ignore how attractive she was with her sunny blonde hair, sky blue eyes, and deep tan even in winter.
I guess Ashton could understand how someone could change so suddenly. Once a stuck-up cheerleader, her personality now matched her beautiful appearance. I had always seen it in her, even when others hadn’t. I had always seen the connection between her and Luca, despite her popular image and Luca’s social outcast one. Somehow, the two of them just worked.
That was the strange thing about love. It always found a way to work, even when it seemed impossible.
“Yeah, I guess you can,” I agreed with a nod.
“Maybe she needs to change,” she suggested gently. “Maybe it’s something she wants to do for herself.”
“Let’s not forget that that was exactly what I did to get Ashy to notice me again,” Luca added without missing a beat. “And the fact that it worked. She came running after me like she’d never seen a man before.”
He was right, of course. Earlier this year, Luca had had long, black hair, and would wear dark eyeliner as part of his punk image. Then suddenly, he’d come to school one day looking like a regular guy; the black dye had been washed out and the dark clothes and makeup were gone.
“Yeah, you’re a real charmer,” Ashton said with a roll of her eyes.
“You know it, baby.” Luca smirked at her before continuing. “Anyway, my point is that sometimes changing your physical appearance is one step towards making you feel different on the inside, too.”
“I know you’re right,” I said with a sigh. “I’m just not sure what else I can do to get through to her. I gave her a book, thinking it would help her find some sort of peace, but she just told me she doesn’t read anymore because she doesn’t believe in happy endings.”
Ashton’s eyes grew wide. “That’s pretty sad.”
“I know,” I said, lowering my head. “It’s pretty obvious she’s not interested in having any kind of a relationship with me, but she’s happy to hang out with a guy from the Madden gang. I don’t know why I bother trying.”
“Then stop,” Luca stated in a matter-of-fact tone.
“What?” I asked, thrown off by the abruptness of his words.
Luca flicked his long, brown hair out of his eyes. “Stop trying. She’s never going to realize what she’s missing if you keep following her around like a lovesick puppy.”
His reasoning seemed completely irrational. “You don’t understand; she needs me. Things are complicated right now. I can’t just desert her.”
“Sorry to be brash, but it kinda looks like she couldn’t care less about you. She’s pretty much being an ungrateful b-”
“Luca!” Ashton warned, narrowing her eyes.
He let out a casual shrug in return. “I’m just saying, she’s used to you chasing after her and being there for her. She’s so used to it that now she thinks she can disregard you altogether and hang out with this other guy. At some point, you gotta put your foot down. Show her that you’re not gonna put up with that shit.” His voice lowered as his eyes grew serious. “Eddie, you’re the nice guy, and everyone knows they always finish last.”