The Story of Us

Chapter 14

Before I knew it, I was riding in the passenger seat of Josh's yellow 1970 VW bus. The only thing I heard was the pouring rain on the windows, and his old windshield wipers sliding across the windshield. Along with the soft country music playing out of the stereo in his car. His hair was tousled and pushed back. Eyes focused on the road, ears listening to the music, and lips relaxed... occasionally mouthing the words to a song. I notice the rain is getting harder and harder, and his windshield wipers can't keep up. All of a sudden the left windshield wiper tears completely off. He can't see a thing. Soon we're forced into a tailspin and I hear myself scream before we slam into a tree and the airbags deploy.

*BEEP BEEP BEEP*

My eyelids are heavy, and I try to force them open. I stretch, and push back my soft lavender comforter. After my shower I smell like a caramel latte. Mmmm. That sounds good. I'll go to Starbucks for breakfast. I decide. I brush my hair back into a high ponytail and slip on black skinny jeans, my favorite combat boots, and my old red flannel unbuttoned over a black spaghetti strap tank. I grab my bag and head downstairs. I pick up my keys from the table in our entry way when my Dad stops me.

"Where do you think you're going without breakfast?" He asks.

"I'm stopping at Starbucks..."

"Oh no you're not, you'll be late!"

"I'll take the damn bus!" With that I slam the front door behind me. Why won't they just let me grow up? What's so bad about stopping for a latte and croissant before class? God, I just want to curl up on my couch and watch The Notebook.

Class flies by today, and I go home with real homework. Ugh. I throw my bag onto the couch in our den, and turn on the Apple desktop computer to start and essay for Honors English. After I finish my homework, it's only 4:30, and I'm bored. Hmmm. I need a change. Oh! I know just the thing... I think to myself.

"Mom! Can you give me a lift to the Salon?" I ask as kindly as possible.

"Sure hun. Lemme grab my purse." She responds. Within 10 minutes we are on the road to the local salon. After an hour of washing, cutting, dying, and drying, I have a whole new look. And when  I look in the mirror I am pleased. I see medium length, chestnut colored, straight hair. Goodbye blonde, hello brunette.  I like it.

"I love it. It's so Miley Cyrus!" My gay hairdresser Felipe exclaims. After that he shows me dozens of hair products I just "have to have" (according to him). So I leave with a new haircut, new shampoo, conditioner, and heat protectant. I could get used to this. I go home with a smile on my face. :)