Ugly Girl

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen: Riley

                My eyes blur then quickly focus on the blank sheet of paper in front of me. The cheap pen Ally gave me still sits in my hand, totally unused. “Damn it, Ally I can’t come up with anything good enough!”

                Ally stands behind my chair, thoughtful for a moment. She then picks up the sheet of paper, crumples it up, and tosses it neatly into the library’s trash can. “I think you should wing it. That, way it will come from your heart.”

                I nod silently, that makes sense. 

                Johnny, with surprising strength, pulls my chair out a few feet. “Come on, kid. We got to get your tux and your hair fixed.”

                “What’s wrong with my hair?”

                “What do you think?” Ally asks the confused hair stylist. “I mean, he has to confess his love to a girl this Saturday.”

                “Well, I usually only style girl’s hair…” She says shyly.

                A man in a white suit and red ascot struts over, I’m assuming the stylist’s boss, “Winnie!” he yells, “Cut this man’s hair! He needs to impress his lady!”

                Ally lets out a snicker as the stylist turn bright red.

                “Well,” she begins hesitantly, “Your hair is a little messy and greasy, I’ll wash it and cut it and if you come in before you have to, uh, confess your feelings, and I can style it.”

                “Style? What am I, a girl?”

                “That sounds great!” Ally says cheerfully.

                “Wait, what?”  I say with panic in my voice as the stylist leads me to the washing section.  “Ally, wait!” I watch in horror as Ally rolls her eyes and smirks at me. She takes a seat across the hair salon in a small waiting section. I can’t believe she’s making me do this! My thoughts are suddenly cut off by the sudden stream of cold water dampening my hair. I nearly jumped out of my skin ad I probably would have if the stylist didn’t have magic fingers. I had never gotten a scalp massage before and if you haven’t, I highly recommend it. It’s like an angel’s tear on your head.

                After the stylist, whose name I haven’t caught onto yet, rinses the soap out of my hair, she drags me back to the styling station where she snips my brown hair into a neater haircut. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Ally staring at her cell phone smiling. I can’t help but smile as well. The only time I’ve seen her smile like that is when she’s with Johnny. I zone out, thinking about how they truly are perfect for each other. A pang of jealousy suddenly surges through my chest. Maybe I want to be like them.

                “Damn, Riley! You look great!” Ally squeals when the stylist finally finishes my new hair. I grin crookedly at the mirror in front of me. The stylist did do a pretty good job. Ally suddenly grabs my arm and drags me outside to her car, “C’mon Riley, Johnny’s going to get you your tux!”

                Johnny stands all 6”2 of him in front of me, towering over my 5”9 build. His dark hair flies messily in the wind, I glare at him. When he has messy hair, girls fall all over him. When I have messy hair, I have to go to a chick’s salon and get my hair done. Then again, Johnny is a Greek god from New York, as I overheard a few girls saying about him and I’m just Riley.

                “Coming?” Johnny asks, grinning slightly.

                “Unfortunately,” I say miserably. I follow him into the small Men’s Warehouse, not the most suave place to go but in our tiny city, it’s the best we could ask for. A rather flamboyant older man wanders over, already smiling.

                “Hello!” he coos. “What can I do for you today, young men?”

                With one hand in his pocket, Johnny uses his other hand to pat the man on his back. “We need a nice looking tux for my man over there.” He grins his crooked grin that makes everyone fall to their knees. “What do you say?”

                The flustered older worker quickly gathers himself together, “W-well that is my job after all! Let’s get you measured, shall we?”

                As the worker wraps my legs, arms, and chest with tape measures, I glare at Johnny as he stands effortlessly in the corner; looking like a Greek statue in a T-shirt and jeans. Oh god, I think, am I jealous of Johnny?

                A black jacket is suddenly thrust into my arms along with pants, a collared white shirt, and shoes, “Try this on.”

                Without being truly conscious of my movements, I pull on the tux set. Completely absent mindedly, I wander out of the dressing room where the worker and Johnny stand eagerly. “Wow.” The worker says.

                Johnny smirks, “You clean up nice, kid.”