Fight for your life

Chapter Three

Scout hums a tune from a vaguely familiar song as I apply dye to her hair. Her naturally light blonde hair made the process simple, and so she somehow convinced Donnie to let her bleach out (most) of her hair. She also managed to convince me to play hair dresser. Then again, it was easy to do, considering it was that or continue to get lectured by Murdoc. "It itches," Donnie whines, groaning when I tell her not to touch her head.
"If you want your brown streaks to stay brown, you better keep your paws off," I warn, kneeing Scout in the back lightly as she squirms.
"Hers doesn't itch," she complains, throwing an accusing finger at Scout.
"That's because you have a gross chemical on your head, that's taking color out" I answer, rolling my eyes. "Meanwhile, Scout's chemical is just leaving stuff in the hair."
"How much longerrr," she whines in response. I check the box again, then down at my watch. "Ummm.... Now would probably be fine," I say, quickly finishing coating Scouts hair in pink goop. "You guys are lucky it rained recently, or we'd never let you guys waste so much water," I comment as Donnie rips the plastic cap from her head and throws herself over the side of the bathtub. I try to use as little water as possible to rinse out all the bleach, but of course it takes more than I expected.
And so, 30 minutes later, Donnie sits with a terrible yellow-blonde color, along with two brown stripes that now have a greenish cast to them, and Scout sits with long, thick, pink hair, and we as a group sit 3 gallons of water short. Barrett and Mudz both stand in the doorway.
"You know, there's still some bleach and dye," Scout says loudly, looking from each of us. "Jones?" She asks, making me laugh a little before joining the boys in the doorway.
"I like my hair the way it is."
"Barrett?" She asks, pouting a little. He furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head, and I know he's fighting saying yes, just to please her. "Mudz?" She asks, holding her pout.
He makes an uncomfortable face, and quietly mumbles "it's Murdoc."
Barrett puts his forehead onto my shoulder, probably trying to avoid eye contact with Scout, and I just barely notice Murdoc tense up. "Alright, Scout, leave the boys alone," I say with a smile, going back to the bathtub to grab the left over dye. We used bowls from the kitchen, and there was really no reason to clean them, so after moving them to the sink i start to dig through the tiny closet for a towel for Scout. I toss a pink one to her before pushing past the boys and down the stairs. There's nothing for me to do here, which makes me uncomfortable. Being bored in this world usually meant trouble. I tried not to think about it as I walked into the living room, stopping at the nearest bookshelf. I recognized many of the books from my grandfather's collection, mostly war hero biographies, and just general books about the many different wars. I picked up one that I hadn't seen before, about the civil war.
"Hey," I jumped, nearly dropping the book as I spun around to see Murdoc sitting on the couch. He patted the seat next to him with a sly smile.
"Jackass," I mutter, making my way to the couch.
"What's it about?" He asks, tilting his head and looking at the book. For once, he seems to show a genuine interest.
"The civil war," I mutter, holding it to my chest as I eye him, suspicious. "You're awfully chatty today."
"Can I not hold a conversation?" He asks, raising an eyebrow.
I mimic him, not breaking eye contact. "Anyone else, sure. But you?"I shake my head, moving to sit down next to him.
"I'm hurt," he says with a smile, leaning to look over my shoulder as I open the book to page one. I don't answer, seeing as a new problem with importance to me has arisen. The letters on the page jumble in my head, and the letters barely form readable words. I sigh quietly, regretting not reading for what, half a year?The letters never make much sense, but in reading often, it's easier to understand. "ln 1879, tho celcdratcb orotor Frcbriek Doaqlass dietatcb a nonuncnt in Washinqtan, D.E., crccted dy dlack Amerieans to bonor Adrahm Lineoln."
(In 1876, the celebrated orator Fredrick Douglass dictated a monument in Washington, D.C., erected by black Americans to honor Abraham Lincoln [Goodwin xv].) After a solid minute of trying to read, Murdoc elbows me.
"You're such a slow reader," he comments, and I scowl at him.
"You try reading when all the words look like a drunk text from a 16 year old," I mutter, bringing my knees up and hunching over the book so he can't see the pages.
He tilts his head and his eyes soften, making me a little uncomfortable. "You're dyslexic?" He asks. I shrug in response, focusing back on the page. Great, I can barely understand, and I lost my place. After a moment of silence, I pause to listen to the bickering upstairs, probably Scout and Barrett, arguing about priorities, per usual. I'm about to give up on the book, seeing as it's difficult to read and I already know the information anyway, when Murdoc takes it from me.
"Hey-" I mutter reaching out for it half-heartedly.
"I'll read it to you," he offers quietly, and I shake my head.
"No, it's fine," I say, standing up. "I know it all anyway-"
He grabs my wrist, not letting me leave. "Why won't you accept help?"
I turn around, pulling my wrist from his hand. "I'll accept help when I need it," I retort, starting towards the kitchen, until I'm cut off by Scout, who has a head full of rollers.
"Jones," she says happily, grabbing my arm. "Let me roll your hair."
"So she can look as ridiculous as you?" Murdoc asks, giving her a shitty look.
She only scowls at him for a moment, before smiling and saying, "Oh Murdoc! I didn't know you could read!"
"Yeah, if you'd be quiet for two seconds I could teach you," he replies, making me roll my eyes, and grab Scout's arm, pulling her with me.
"Lets go roll Donnie's hair," I offer, knowing she can't say no to both of us.
"This lady has way too many rollers. I mean, how many does it take?" Donnie comments, holding the entire vanity drawer full as Scout tugs and pulls at her still-wet hair. She sits at the vanity chair, with Scout standing up behind her, while I lay on the bed, watching. Scout and Donnie are both still in their pajamas, which is a surprise from Scout.
"How do you know how to do this?" I ask, watching Scouts careful and practiced hands.
"I was going to be a cosmetologist," she answers, smiling.  "I was in my last year... Actually, I was on my way to take the test to get my license when it started..." she stares down at the hair in her hands, laughing a little. "Kinda messed up, isn't it? Your life starts to go right, and then this happens..." she wipes her eyes quickly before starting to wrap the hair around another roller. We all sit in silence for a long moment, before Donnie speaks.
"I grew up on a farm," she says quietly. "The whole plant thing I could do, but the animals..." She went pale from just thinking about it. "They wanted me to take it over, since I was the oldest..." she paused for moment. "They wanted me to take over but, how could I?" She asks with a laugh. "What I really wanted was to be a teacher... teach first graders or something..." She turns to glance at me. "What about you? Did you always want to be in the military?" She asks and I look away quickly, guilt grabbing hold of my chest.
"Not really, no." I answer, turning to lay on my back so I can stare up at the ceiling. "I guess I never really had plans for much of a future... I drove my mom up a wall, got kicked out of a few different schools for dumb stuff, and eventually got sent to military school. Then, I got kicked out there too, and went to live with my grandfather. We got pretty close." I tell the truth as much as I can, but now I'm at the point where I have to lie. "Then, when I was 18 he died. My family wanted nothing to do with me, so I figured going back to the military was the only way I could really do something with my life."
I turned to face them again, and both of their eyes were wide. "How do you get kicked out of military school?" Scout asks, looking amazed.
I laugh and shrug a little. "Started a lot of fights, refused to do anything they told me, flipped a bus..."
"You flipped a bus?" Donnie asks, amazed.
"Yeah... some of the others and I, well we made these ramps, one on either side of like, three cars, one of them was my first Sargent's, too, anyway, we were gonna jump the cars, and it was one of those short buses, but the ramp was too narrow, and I didn't know how to drive anyway, so the bus went about half way up, then went over the side, so the bus just kinda went up and over..." I shrug again and smile. "Man those were the days."
"That's amazing," Scout says, grinning. "I can't believe you flipped an entire bus! The worst I've ever done was sneak out to a party," she adds with a laugh.
"The worst I've done was set a pig free," Donnie giggles as Scout finishes up the last roller.
"There, now in the morning you'll have beautiful curls!" She says proudly, and Donnie nods, making a face at herself in the mirror.
"Can't wait 'til the morning, then," she mutters making Scout and I laugh. Barrett stands in the doorway and laughs as well.
"So it's Jones's turn now, right?" He asks, and Scout happily jumps onto the bed next to me.
"Yes!" She says, happily tackling me.
"No!" I cry, laughing and half-heartedly fighting her off. "You'll never catch me alive!"
Donnie jumps onto the bed as well, loosely grabbing one of my wrists. "To the chair!" She cries, and they both giggle as they playfully pull me up, until a door slams downstairs, and the girls both go silent, letting go of my wrists. I move to the window, and sigh as I see Murdoc heading off down the street. I try to open the window for a moment before realizing it's painted shut. I slam my fist into the wall, watching him walk off for a moment before I grab my bayonet-rifle and pistol. "Stay here," I order.