The Boyfriend Games (slowly editing; grammar issues)

Chapter 2 ✔

Chapter 2

Mom wasn't mad when Ms. Williams told her about the games. She was excited. It turned out that when she was young, she had attended the exact same school as me, and she had had to undergo the selection ceremony. Unlike me, she was lucky to escape unchosen throughout the four years.

"No, mum. I don't need the five hundred." I told her for the fifth time, pushing the wad of notes back to her. She was being way over the top.

"Just take it, you're wasting time," Ms. Williams snapped at me, and took the money from Mom. She stuffed it into my hand, and roughly shoved me out of my house towards her red Volkswagen beetle.

"This baby was my prize for winning the Games." She stared at her car lovingly.

"You mean, you can pick your prize?" I asked curiously.

"Kind of, since I was the first freshman to win. I don't think they do it anymore." Ms. Williams shrugged nonchalantly, "Get in the car quickly. We're going to be late."

"So, where are we going? Which salon?" I pressed for more information after we got onto the main road. For some reason, I was imagining a cheap salon where they did a cut and dye job for about thirty bucks. Not one of the most expensive salons in California.

When we got there, we were welcomed with open arms - one of the perks of going to a high class salon. They treated us like royalty. Unlike the cheap salons I usually went to, this salon was hygienic, huge, and most importantly, they didn’t judge me - well, that was until I was seated, and there were three hair stylists staring incredulously at my hair.

"Do you even condition?"

"What is this?"

"She needs a lot of work."  Two of the hairdressers returned to the front of the saloon, leaving me with a chirpy, red-haired woman. She was probably in her mid-thirties, but she dressed way too young, with her tight black crop top, high waisted jeans and platform shoes. She looked at my hair and snorted in disgust.

I, too, looked at my hair in the mirror. My mustard blonde hair was very long - it hung straight to my hips, and I liked it that way. Who cared if it wasn't conditioned? It looked fine to me.

"Emerald, we have to do some treatment on your hair, and you need a cut and dye," The stylist told me seriously. I narrowed my eyes at her. Ms. Williams shot me a threatening glare, and I gulped. I nodded at the stylist.

"What colour do you want, sweetie?" My stylist, whose name I could now read from a tag on her shirt - Amber- asked, pulling out a colour chart. I gasped as I saw the colours she offered and picked one that I thought would suit me. There was copper red, jet black, hazel brown, and the prettiest honey blonde colour. I eagerly pointed at the honey blonde one and she smiled at me.

"This surely will suit you! It's only a few shades from your old colour!"

She showed me a few photographs of a some hairstyles that certain celebrities had, that would suit me. My eyes roamed around before they landed on Jennifer Love Hewitt's. It was similar to my current hairstyle, except shorter. I pointed to it eagerly, and Amber nodded. Ms. Williams shook her head.

"Let's get started."

* * *

Four gruesome hours later, I was done, and blindfolded. I could hear Amber and Ms. Williams giggling.  One of them untied the napkin, and pulled it away. The girl in the mirror was almost perfect. Her honey blonde hair fell just slightly past her shoulders lightly, and she had bangs that stopped right below her eyebrows. For a few seconds, I gaped at my reflection. Then, I realised something.

"You didn't cut my hair like I wanted you to!" I screeched at Amber and Ms. Williams. They hadn't listened to me. It was probably Ms. William's fault. Amber shrank back slightly, looking apologetic.

"If I embarrass myself in public, it's your fault," I snapped at Ms. Williams. She clenched her teeth together.

"You won't, because I'm always right. And, you look so much better now," She snapped back at me, "There's a chance you might even win."

Knowing that Ms. Williams rarely gave compliments, I was pretty touched by her words. I knew that she didn't really like me, and that by far was the nicest thing she had ever said to me.

"Aw, thanks," I gave her a small smile.

"Don't mention it. Like, ever." Ms. Williams waved her hand, and Amber appeared with the bill on a leather clipboard. I cringed. I didn't want to see the price. Seeing as this was one of the top salons in the state, I was sure it would be hundreds if not thousands of dollars.

"Don't worry, I'll cover it," Ms. Williams snatched the bill from me, and placed her Amex card on the clipboard. She handed it back to Amber before I could even catch a glimpse of the price.

"I can't let you pay for it," I argued, trying to make a grab for the bill. Unfortunately, I was too slow, and Amber skipped away to the cash register before I could even get up from the seat.

"Yes you can," Ms. Williams winked at me. "Anyways, my fiancé can pay my bill. He's loaded."

Amber came back with a huge smile on her face. "Thank you for coming!" She chirped and handed the credit card with the receipt to Ms. Williams. I took the opportunity to seize the receipt during their transition. I scanned the receipt briefly, and gasped when I saw the price. It was very expensive. "Em! I told you not to bother!" Ms. Williams scolded, and took the receipt from me, pocketing it.

"That's really expensive! I can't let you pay for that!" I exclaimed, my eyes wide.

"You can."

"No, I can't."

"Yes."

"No!"

Ms. Williams sighed loudly, and grabbed my arm. "Let's go to my car to talk. You're making a huge scene here." It turned out that she was correct, because almost all the customers were staring at us curiously.  She rushed me out of the salon, but we had barely walked a few steps when she stopped abruptly. I stopped myself just in time to avoid bumping into her back.

“What,” I deadpanned, looking around for whatever or whoever that made her stop in her tracks. After looking around aimlessly, my eyes pinpointed a specific boy. He was tall, tanned and had his blonde hair gelled up. His eyes, however, were covered by his aviators. Two words: Blake Richards. He was helping his newest toy out of the car. They probably were going on a date or something.

It pissed me off. Yesterday, I’d seen him cozying up with another girl, yet today, he was with this girl. I had half a mind to storm up to him and give him a high five to the face.

“You’re not allowed to be in contact with him yet,” Ms. Williams whispered to me. She hooked her arm with mine, and dragged me towards her car while I continued glaring at him.

Once we were in her tiny car, she turned to me. "Just let me pay for this, okay? I want to." I didn't bother trying to argue with her. I was already on the losing end anyway. Buckling my seatbelt, I ignored her for the entire journey back to my house.

When we reached, Ms. Williams opened her mouth, "We're going shopping tomorrow. Rest well." I nodded meekly, and got out of the car as quickly as I could without hitting my head onto the roof of the car. But, not without leaving behind the five hundred dollars Mom gave me on her seat.