One Hundred Letters for James

005

005:

Beauticians

(It's been two weeks since I've seen you. Do you miss me?)

In the autumn of Grade Seven, our school had a Fall Dance. We had both been single at the time, and agreed to go together, as friends. I wanted you to think I was pretty, and make you like me as much as I liked you, so I scheduled an appointment with a beautician.

I wanted blonde highlights in my red hair, and I couldn't wait to see the look on your face when you saw me.

After two grueling hours, my hair had finally been finished. The lady took the foil off of my hair to reveal terrible yellow-green streaks.

I couldn't go to the dance looking like that, so I had called you and told you that I was sick.

"I don't think I'll make it to the dance, James." I had said.

"That's alright, I'll just go with my friends."

The next day you had proclaimed to me that you and Jennifer were dating. You said that you met up at the dance because neither of you had dates.

My heart had been broken in two. It was my fault that they were going out, my fault that you had seen Jennifer, not me, at the dance.

It was the first time that I cried over a boy. And it was because of you.

(Thankfully, my mom let me get my hair re-dyed. That's why you never saw a change.)