I Have Friends in Holy Spaces

7: Isn't My Hair Just to Dye For?

    When I had come home that day, I forgot that about my hair since I was in Pete's company for the subsequent hours after it was bleached and forgot that nobody else knew, thus being a little confused to why my parents were making a big fuss about it.

     "Christ Almighty, Frank what did you do to your hair?" My mom exclaimed, practically jumping off the sofa when I arrived home. My dad followed suit a few moments after, standing alongside her. "What do you mean what did I do to it?" I asked, not yet remembering that it was different when I saw them last.

   Mom glared at me, putting her hands on her hips, "Don't you play dumb on this matter, Frank, you know what's going on." I shook my head, "I really don't, Mom." Afterwards, I then made my way into the kitchen and looked at my reflection in the microwave, now realizing what they were talking about, "Oh my hair! Yeah Pete bleached it."

This time my father spoke, "Pete bleaches now?" "Took me by surprise too," I shrugged. Dad and I were about to get into conversation, but Mom soon stopped us with a wave of her hands. "It doesn't matter if he bleaches hair or now it's a matter of why he did it. Enlighten us, Frank?" She raised an eyebrow and stared at me, expecting an answer. "Um...well I lost a bet to Pete," I gave her an answer and she didn't say anything for a while, which was weird since my mom always has a reply to anything.

     "Pete...won a bet?" My dad asked, not sure if what I said was actually true. I sighed and nodded, "Yeah." We all stood there in silence, my parents probably taking in this information and formulating the right words to say next while I waited for them to say it. Soon enough, the familiar wheezy laugh my father has came to life as he doubled over, laughing over the situation. "Pete....winning a bet...ha! What'd you do, let him win?" He finally gained some air and spoke. I shrugged, "Not because I wanted to. Brendon also lost, just to throw him under the bus."

"Oh dear lord did he get his hair bleached too?" My mom cringed. She turned to my dad, "Don't you think that would emphasize the forehead a bit?" "Mom, no...you know how he likes Prince?" I shook my head, desperately trying not to laugh at her remark. It's true, Brendon's forehead is bigger than Nikki Minaj's ass.

   She nodded, waiting for me to go on with the story before she gasped quite dramatically, deterring my explanation when she said, "Oh my god...Pete didn't, did he?" I smiled evilly and shook my head, "On display in his room at the moment."

    My parents love Pete and throughout the years as he and I grew closer to one another, my parents also took on making fun of him in a friendly way and it makes me feel happy sometimes; to have people who will make fun of Pete that's not Brendon.

   Speaking of Brendon, as my family and I were having this conversation, I felt my phone vibrate at least twice every minute and I don't even have to look at the screen to know it's him.  He must have got bored of spamming Pete and switched over to new game.

    Honestly, nobody knows where his obsession with Purple Rain originated; it's a mystery to everyone. In junior year, Brendon really got into classic rock and music from the 60s through the 80s and had a thing for Frank Sinatra. All you would hear from him was anything that could involve Sinatra in the teeniest bit and it got annoying real quick. Yet just one day, all we heard was how Purple Rain changed his life and how Prince was his new religion.

    "I wish I was sorry for him, but I'm not. Thank Pete for me next time you see him," my dad put his hand on my shoulder, a smile still evident on his face. He soon lifted his hand off of my shoulder, it now feeling bare and left the room with my mom. By then I took out my phone and read the text messages from Brendon.