The Art of Life

by Carter, Sarah

  Twenty minutes into class, there is a knock on the door. Everyone of course looks up. The teacher walks over to answer it. There is a guy standing in the hallway. When I look carefully, I see it’s a guy holding a bunch of flowers, roses to be exact. He walks forward and hands them to my teacher. My teacher looks down at the card. “Isabelle…ummm…you have flowers here for you.”

  There is instant whispering in the classroom. Oh no, Jeremy, I am going to kill you. I begrudgingly walk up to the front of the room. My teacher hands them to me, a little wide eyed. “Thanks,” I whisper.

  As I make my way back, I have to smile. They are beautiful red roses and they smell fantastic. Trying to not smirk too bad, I sit back down. There is a card and I take it out. I fiddle with it for a while. When I look up everyone is staring at me. Awkward. I finally turn away from everyone and open the card. Before I can read it, it is snatched from my hand.

  “Sonya!” I yell, “Give that back!”

  But it’s too late, she already has it open. “Isabelle,” she starts loudly. “I had a great time last night and can’t wait to see you on Saturday. I hope this helps with the…..guillotine. Guillotine…..what in the hell is a guillotine?”

  “Something you really need to check out,” someone yells.

  With a disgusted look, she gawks at me. I grab the card back and say, “I am going to keep that, thank you very much.” Sonya just continues to stare at me. “What?” I snap. “Have you never gotten flowers at school before?”

  Daniella and Jessica start to laugh. Daniella is the one to say, “No, she hasn’t.” Sonya turns around and gives her a look of death. The other two girls look back down at their projects.

  “I am going to figure this out,” Sonya seethes.

  “What is there to figure out?” I practically yell. “Do you want these? Here, have them, if that will shut you up.” I shove the flowers at her.

  Turning away, she replies, “I don’t even like roses.”

  “Sure! That’s it!” A guy in front of me shouts. I burst out laughing with everyone else.

  To my relief, Sonya ignores me after class. My face turns red though as every person that I pass turns to look at me and then the flowers. Talk about having all eyes upon you. It’s like I have a big red beacon on my head. I decide to go home first and drop everything off.

  The house is empty. Thank god for small favors. I set the flowers on my bed and stand there for a minute. I don’t even think we own a vase. We do have that glass pitcher though. I go downstairs and grab it, filling it with water. With an artistic flare, I arrange the flowers. I have never had flowers given to me before. This is great.

  My mind is giddy for the rest of the night. I know he didn’t send them to me for romantic reasons, but it feels great none the less. As I lay there staring at the ceiling, I get an idea. Rolling over onto my stomach, I grab my sketch pad. A scene comes to mind and I start to draw.

  At 11:45 the next day, I am sitting by my window, staring at the street. I have the helmet ready on my bed and my backpack on my back. My mom is still sleeping from her prior drunken stupor, but I don’t want to risk her seeing me. Suddenly, I hear the rev of the bike’s engine. I spring across my room, grab the helmet and fly downstairs.

  Jeremy is barely stopped before I run up next to him. “Hey.”

  He takes his helmet off and laughs. “Eager are we?”

  “No, I want to go before my mom wakes up,” I state, ushering with my hands.

  “Okay, okay,” he replies, “get on.”

  I throw on the helmet and climb on back. “Where are we going?” I yell.

  “You’ll see.”

  As we drive I can’t even register where we are going. When we finally pull up, I pop open the visor. “You have to be kidding me, right?”

  Chuckling, Jeremy shakes his head. “Nope, you said you would trust me.”

  I climb down and yank the helmet off. “I said I was going to trust you, but I have no idea what to do in there! I get my hair cut at the mall, for like twelve dollars.”

  “I got this,” he says, getting off the bike. “I know what I am doing.”

  “I sure hope so,” I moan, as he pushes me forward.

  We walk into the salon and I know I am in way over my head. There is a perfectly done up receptionist and the shampoo probably costs more than my usual haircut altogether. “Hi,” Jeremy chimes. “We are here to see Debbie.”

  The receptionist gives him a really flirty smirk and looks down. “Isabelle,” she says, looking up at me. Her eyebrow immediately rises. She looks at me and then at Jeremy. “Your little sister?”

  A shocked look crosses my face. “No,” Jeremy states. “My very close female friend, anyway, we are here to see Debbie.”

  “Yeah,” she replies, looking at me. “I will go get her right away.”

  When she walks away, I turn to Jeremy and hiss, “See! I get that every day! We need to leave now!”

  “Relax,” Jeremy emphasizes, putting his arm around me. “No one is going to bite.”

  “Yeah right,” I mumble, crossing my arms.

  Suddenly, this perfect blonde beauty comes around the corner. “Jeremy!” She yells. He lets go of me, to go and hug her. She gives him a kiss on the cheek. “What are you doing here?”

  “Debbie, we require some of your expertise. This is my friend Isabelle. She kind of…well….needs our help.” Jeremy gestures to me.

  “Thanks Jeremy,” I snap.

  Debbie eyes me up thoughtfully. “What do you want done?” She asks me.

  “I have no idea,” I reply. “This is horribly embarrassing.”

  “Nonsense,” Debbie laughs. “I love giving a make-over.”

  The receptionist jumps in. “She has you booked for four hours.”

  “Four hours!” I snap. “Jeremy!”

  He starts to back up to the door, with that incredible killer smile. “You will be fine.”

  “You dirty rat! You are leaving me here alone!”

  “Debbie will be nice to you, I promise. Anyway, I want it to be a surprise, like opening a Christmas present. My credit card is already accounted for, do whatever you want.”

  Now, that makes me mad. “Jeremy, you can’t pay for this. Be serious.”

  As his butt hits the door, he stops and says, “I don’t have a girlfriend, so I need someone to spend money on other than myself. This makes me so happy, so please enjoy yourself. Explore, find out who you want to be. I can’t give you hair advice, I can’t teach you to put on make-up, but I can get you to the people who make it happen. This is the start of a new you, a new you that can show the world how wonderful you are. I see that and I want everyone else to see that too.”

  “Thanks Jeremy,” I sigh, with a soft smile. “This means the world to me.”

  “Good,” he laughs, “I think this is going to blow your mind.”

  Debbie retorts, “When I am done with her, she will blow everyone’s mind.”

  Jeremy pushes the door open and blows a kiss at me. I really want to give him the finger right now. He makes his exit and I have to turn to look at Debbie. “I am a really awkward girl who knows nothing about any of this, so please be gentle.”

  “Come on,” Debbie says, nudging her head. “Let’s get started.”

  I follow her back to her little area. She pats the chair and I climb in. Wrapping the smock around me, Debbie starts to play with my hair. “So, you have to have some idea what you want your hair to look like.”

  “Honestly, I don’t even know what would look good,” I reply, somewhat defeated.

  “I will be right back,” Debbie tells me, as she walks away.

  My heart races at the uneasiness that I am feeling. I pray to God that no one I know walks in while I am doing this. Debbie finally reappears next to me. She has a few books. “What are those for?” I ask.

  “You are going to pick a haircut that you like,” she replies. Debbie starts to play with my hair again. “Well, your ends are kind of fried, so I am go
ing to need to take some length off. Do you want your hair to stay long?”

  Shrugging my shoulders, I say, “I don’t know. I don’t really care, as long as I look alright in the end.”

  “You will look more than alright,” Debbie responds, as she smiles broadly. “Do you want my advice?”

  Practically gasping, I exclaim, “Yes please!”

  “I say we go short, not pixie short but like here,” she says, bringing her hands flat to my neck. “Then we are going to color it.”

  “What color are you making my hair?” I ask hesitantly.

  Debbie taps her chin. “Actually, I think we are going to do highlights and lowlights. Give some contrast to that hair of yours.”

  “I have no idea what you just said, but I will trust you,” I sigh. “It can’t look much worse than it does already.”

  Grabbing a book, Debbie starts to flip through the pages. “You have great hair. You just need to learn how to work it. Most women would kill for the natural curl that you have.”

  “I hate that my hair is curly,” I retort grumpily.

  With a laugh, Debbie says, “You will love your curly hair once you know what to do with it.”

  “Okay,” I mutter.

  “Here, this is the haircut I am going to do.” She hands me the book.

  I look down at the picture. “You are going to get my hair to look like that?”

  “I am going to get your hair to look BETTER than that,” she whispers, leaning over my shoulder. “Trust me, Miss Isabelle, you will be a new person when I am done with you.”

  Time passes by like a blur as I watch her put the coloring in my hair. I feel awkward, but am fascinated at the same time. I can’t help but laugh when I see myself in the mirror. “I look like I am wearing a tin foil hat to keep the aliens out of my head.”

  “Yeah,” Debbie snorts. “It’s a scary process sometimes. Do you want anything to drink?”

  “Do you have any water?” I ask.

  Nodding her head, she replies, “Yup. I will be right back.”

  The salon is really busy now. I kind of watch what everyone else is doing in the mirror. Part of me wishes my mom was here. Of course, part of me wishes my mom cared about anything to do with me.

  Finally, Debbie walks up with a bottle of water. “Here you go hon.”

  “Thanks.” I take a big swig because my throat is dry, probably, because I am so nervous. Looking up at Debbie, I say, “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure,” she answers, leaning against the counter.

  Curious, I ask, “How do you know Jeremy?”

  “We used to date,” she replies, with a soft smile.

  “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  Furrowing her eyebrows, Debbie retorts, “Why do you say that?”

  I wave my hand at her. “You are beautiful, he is beautiful. That kind of goes hand in hand.”

  “Why, are you interested in him?”

  Shaking my head, I say, “No, no, no, don’t tell him that.”

  “He is a really nice guy,” Debbie replies, “but very closed off. He wouldn’t really talk about his past at all. When I started to push on the subject, he broke it off with me.”

  A wave of shock runs through me. “Really?”

  “Yup.”

  “But, you are still friendly with him,” I point out.

  She nods. “We hadn’t been dating that long, and we wanted to stay friends in the end.”

  “That’s cool,” I say quietly. I wonder what happened in his past that he can’t talk about. I mean, I don’t know him very well, but still, I wonder what kind of guy he really is. That is a dumb question Isabelle. He is a really great guy, because he is doing all this for a girl he doesn’t know. Jeremy is doing this for you.

  After sitting there for a while, Debbie finally says that my hair is done and we wash it out. She sits me back in the chair and starts the process of cutting it. The more she cuts off, the more my stomach starts to turn. Suddenly, she sighs. “All done. Now, I am going to show you how to style your hair.” Looking over to her side, she exclaims, “Perfect!” Grabbing my hand, she says, “Come here.”

  We walk over to a few booths down. The stylist looks up. “Hey Debbie.”

  Debbie smiles. “We need to show her how to make her curls rock.”

  “Oh okay,” the stylist replies. “What you want to do is take this stuff and put a little in your hand.” She takes a silver bottle and squeezes some goop onto her palm. “Rub it together, and then run it through your hair evenly.” I watch as she does this to the lady in the seat. “Then you scrunch it take make the curls stay. This cream helps keep the curl from frizzing.”

  “That is one of my biggest problems,” I state. “My hair is a horrible frizzy mess.”

  “That is what styling products are for,” Debbie says. “I will hook you up with what you need. Come on, I am going to show you how to straighten your hair.”

  Looking at her, I reply, “I didn’t think that was possible.”

  “Totally possible, come on.”

  I get back and sit down in the chair. Debbie immediately shows me the gel and puts it in my hair. Then shows me how to blow dry it to get some of the curl out. Finally, she goes, “Now, it’s time for the flat iron.”

  “The what iron?”

  She pulls out a crazy looking contraption. “This is a flat iron. It is your new best friend. What you do is take section by section and straighten it. Here, just watch.” I carefully keep an eye on what she does. It doesn’t look too hard. When she is halfway done with my hair, she puts the flat iron away. “Now, this is a little unorthodox but I am going to have you try.”

  “Oh,” I squeak. “Really?”

  “You have to learn, don’t you?” She retorts.

  Taking a deep breath, I sigh, “Yes.”

  “Stand up, and come here,” she commands gently. So, I stand and walk up to the counter. “Now, this is the setting you should have it set at. Don’t put it too high. Then these are the irons and they are really hot, so don’t burn yourself. Jeremy would kill me. The most important thing is you want to keep the iron moving. If you let it sit in a spot you will scorch your hair.”

  “Oh goodie,” I mumble.

  Laughing, Debbie says, “You will be fine. So, take a section of hair, put the iron on the top and gently pull down.”

  This is really embarrassing. People have to be watching us. So, I take a clump of hair, and pick up the flat iron. I do as she says, and pull it through. My hair comes out straight in the end. “Hey!” I shout. “I did it!”

  “That you did. Now, keep going.”

  It takes me a while, because I am doing it really slowly, but I finally finish. It doesn’t look quite like Debbie’s side, but it still looks a thousand times better than my hair normally. “I think I can handle that,” I giggle, totally happy.

  “Sit back down and I will show you how to flip your ends,” she replies, with a big smile.

  So, I do. When I we finally stop and my hair is all done. My chest actually tightens. “It’s so pretty,” I practically cry.

  “You are so pretty,” Debbie says from behind me.

  “I never thought I would look like this,” I say, trying really hard to keep the tears back.

  Debbie smiles. “You just needed a little help. Now, do you want me to do your make-up?”

  “I have never had any make-up on, like ever,” I reply, being very serious.

  “Well then, we have more than enough time to teach you that, too,” she states. “Come on.”

  If my heart swells anymore, it may burst. We walk over to the make-up area and Debbie sits me down on a chair. I look at the display. “That is way overwhelming.”

  “We are not going to go all crazy on you. With your coloring, we should keep it natural and simple. So, you have never applied make-up, never used any color?”

  My eyes open wide. “No, but I am an artist, so I can’t believe that it is too different.”

  “No, th
at’s great,” Debbie says. “We will go over the basics that you need. You have great skin and good even skin tone, so you don’t really need a foundation. If you want to use something then you can use a powder. You put that on first.” She takes out a color and spreads it lightly on my face. “Next, we put on eye shadow. You want to use these colors because of the blue in your eyes.”

  Groaning, I say, “I hate the color of my eyes. They are so dull.”

  “Not when you use the right make-up. Just watch.” She puts on the colors and instructs me how to do it. Then she moves onto eye liner and then mascara. When we are done, Debbie grins broadly. “Do you want to see yourself?”

  “I am nervous,” I reply.

  “Don’t be, you look beautiful,” she states. “Come here.” Grabbing my hand, she pulls me to the mirror.

  When I look into it my heart drops. “That doesn’t even look like me,” I gasp.

  “Yes, it does,” she says gently. “It’s the adult you.”

  I actually look…well…pretty. Maybe, not Debbie pretty, but for me, I look pretty. My hair frames my face now. The ends flip out on the bottom. The highlights make me look great. I finally look like a real girl.

  “Oh,” Debbie exclaims. “We forgot your lips.”

  “I don’t think I would look good with anything on them,” I retort.

  Waving her hand, Debbie says, “That’s silliness. You have the perfect mouth for lip stick and stuff. Here we will just put some gloss on you to start.” She takes it out and applies it gently.

  Suddenly, the receptionist comes walking up behind us. “That cute guy is back for your client.”

  “We are all done anyway,” Debbie retorts.

  Turning around, I look at the receptionist. She does a double take. “Wow, you look great!” She exclaims. Suddenly, putting her foot in her mouth, she says, “Not that you didn’t before.”

  “No,” I interject. “There is a big difference, don’t worry.”

  Debbie just smiles. “Let’s get your stuff and get you to Jeremy.”

  Now, I’m nervous. As, we walk up to the front of the salon, my stomach tightens and I feel like I am going to hurl. When we turn the corner, Jeremy has his back to us. “We are done,” Debbie declares.