Dream Boy

Chapter Two

After breakfast, I help my mom load the dishwasher and pour my favorite flavor of creamer, French Vanilla, into my coffee. My mom turns to me and smiles, noticing that I've picked the same flavor she loves.

"Hey, Sarah honey? Could you help me dye my hair today? It needs a little touch up." My mom is an interior designer, and she has a pretty bold sense of style. Her hair is bright red, and she always asks me to help with root touch ups.
"Of course. I did all my homework yesterday, and my only plans were to read. So sure." I love doing her hair because it makes me feel like I'm a hairstylist. When I was little, my heart was set on being a hairdresser and owning my own salon. My dad wants me to do something more impressive than that with my life, but the idea of my own salon is always tucked away in my head. I told him I'd do something with English, or go to business school, and that seemed to satisfied him--at least a little.

My mom ushers me upstairs, and we get all the stained towels--used specifically for hair coloring days--out. Soon, the dye is mixed, and I am applying it to my mom's hair wherever I see gray. She isn't very lucky in the hair department: her hair started graying at 35. That's what three kids do to you, folks. But I love how she turns gray hair into a positive thing by choosing a fun hair color.

"Hey, Mom? Do you think you could help me dye my hair?" I am suddenly inspired by her bold color choice. "I've always wanted dark purple hair." I can see my mom's smile in the mirror.
"Yes! I've been waiting for you to ask! Let's do it today! We can run to CVS after I shower and pick out a color." I smile, now excited for the rest of my Sunday. And who knows...maybe this will help me forget about my dream situation.

"That one, Mom! It's perfect!" I'm pointing at a hair dye box, showcasing the perfect shade of purple. "I love it!" I start jumping up and down, and then I stop, remembering that I'm in public.
"Okay, okay! I like it too." My mom puts her hand on my shoulder to calm me down. "Let's grab some candy while we are here, and then pay. I've been craving Sour Patch Kids lately." I laugh at my mom. My dad hates all the gummy candies, but my mom is like me, loving gummy bears, worms--anything chewy and sweet.

Two hours later, I'm standing in the shower, watching purple water spin down the drain. I've been rinsing for a solid fifteen minutes, trying to get all the excess dye out of my hair. When the water finally runs clear, I apply the conditioner provided with the dye, and then wash my body while it soaks in. I rinse the conditioner out with cold water and climb out of the shower, grabbing for my towel.

"Oooh, honey! Even when it's wet I can see the purple!" My mom squeals and I scream, not realizing that she had come into the bathroom.
"Geesh mom! You scared the crap out of me!"

I quickly wrap my towel around my body and stare at my mom, indicating with my eyes that she needs to leave so I can dry off. She gets the point, quickly apologizes and disappears behind the door. I loosen my grip on my towel and dry my body off. Then I grab my old cotton tee-shirt to dry my hair (I'd read somewhere that this helps prevent split ends and frizz) and smile in the mirror as the purple begins to appear.

"Damn, Sarah." I smirk at myself in the mirror, and then burst out laughing. "What a loser."

Once I get dressed and complete my after-shower-routine, I climb down the stairs into the kitchen.
"Wow, Sarah!" My dad looks up from his newspaper, and immediately comments on my hair. "It looks amazing! Purple totally works with your complexion." I don't think he knows what he's talking about, but I take the compliment anyway.
"Thanks Dad. By the way, where's Eric?" I look around for my brother, and my wandering eyes answer my question. "Never mind, I see him." I point into the living room, where my brother is slouched in front of the TV.