Vanilla

Chapter Ten

Dedicated to itsasupernova, because I'm hoping this dedication might persuade her to give me her ridiculously cute bunnies. It's official: I'm obsessed. Oh, and she's kind of hilarious too.

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            “You’re telling me that was twenty minutes? It can’t have been.”

            “It was,” I assured Erin. Sat in front of the sink, she had her head tipped backwards so her hair dangled into the basin. “I checked.”

            Clearly, she wasn’t convinced. “Well, maybe we should leave it on a little bit longer. You know, just to be safe. I want it to be bright.”

            “Erin, you leave this stuff on your hair for another minute, and it’s going to fry. We’re taking it off right now.”

            We were both sat in her bathroom, as we had been for the last half hour, trying to work magic with the packet of dye she’d picked up from the pharmacy. In my opinion, her hair looked fine, but she was having none of it; she’d insisted her roots were returning with a vengeance, and decided a second packet of chemical colour was her sole defence against them. Hence why, on a Saturday evening, somewhere amongst agreeing to stay the night at her place, I’d been appointed chief coordinator of the hair-dying mission.

            I’d never done it before, but my lack of experience didn’t seem to be a concern of Erin’s. All she cared about, it seemed, was ensuring her hair stayed as bright as the sun from root to tip.

            It didn’t help my concentration that the bathroom was as humid and sticky as any other room in the house; though it’d been three days since my encounter with Collette, the freak heat wave the country had been experiencing was showing no sign of letting up any time soon. I was growing tired of the clammy heat, of nights spent tossing and turning under fans that seemed to do little more than push hot air around the room. And then there was the constant bustle of the town: you couldn’t go anywhere without running into a herd of day-trippers clogging up the pavements and shops.

            It was even worse than rain. But then again, this was English weather we were talking about, and I knew the sun could turn to a thunderstorm in a heartbeat.

            “Okay, fine.” Finally, she’d resigned herself to following my instruction. “Go ahead and rinse, then.”

            I did as she said, unhooking the showerhead from its spot above the bath and stretching it over to the sink. Upon turning the dial, water began running through her hair immediately, the excess dye turning it a vivid colour as it pooled in the bottom. Any normal person probably would’ve been alarmed by the sight of such a bright hue, seeing as it had just been plastered permanently onto their head, but not Erin. In fact, she seemed more concerned by the risk of it not being bright enough – as if she needed any more help standing out from the crowd.

            What had surprised me, though, was the fact that Erin had returned with a packet the exact shade of the one already on her head. I’d expected something different, although equally as daring – sea green or bubblegum pink, maybe – instead of the colour that had lately become her signature look.

            “I like it,” she said, shrugging, when I’d asked her. “It just feels right, you know? I don’t feel like I’m ready for a change just yet. Maybe next time.”

            Now, she looked up at me. “It’s coming off alright, I take it?”

            “Yeah, I think so.” I continued running my gloved hands through her hair, a little worried by how the previously white sink seemed to have taken on a distinctly lilac tinge. Though Erin had assured me she’d done this hundreds of times – and on this, I didn’t doubt her – I still wasn’t convinced it wouldn’t leave a permanent stain. “Just this last little bit, and then I think you’re good to go.”