The Mormon Renegade

Chapter 7

I cough in response, rubbing the sore skin through my jersey.

"Tristan." Andy says as if testing the sound on his tongue.

"You shouldn't stare so long, it creeps me out." His gaze hardens flicking from me to Scout over my shoulder, curling his lips in an unflattering scowl. He leaves us alone on the court, but he never leaves my mind as I stare longingly after him... I'm not sure why.

Probably because he is the first non-Mormon guy I'm remotely attracted to so far. "Hey, daydream believer." She flips my ponytail whipping strands into my eyeball.

"Y'know, I was thinking—"

"Always dangerous." She interrupts dodging my harmless shoulder charge.

"The way I look right now reminds me of everything I want to forget about my family and the way I used to live." I love that I can finally say used to live.

"Believe it or not I was thinking about that myself, how about you ditch your old wardrobe and adopt mine?" Her suggestion is enticing but not my intention.

"Even that's too drastic for me." I say thinking about a scandalous outfit I found stored deep within her overflowing wardrobe.

"Alright, don't hate. I mean, we can always give you a haircut?" She adds scrunching her nose, expecting a rejection.

"Yeah, I think that's the way to play this." Scout bats her eyelids registering my answer.

"For real? This coming from a girl who's had the one hairstyle her whole life?"

"For real. Remember I'm shedding this Mormon image and trading it in for a new and improved model." I dribble the ball out of habit as we pause on the half court line. 

"Alright, I'll agree to it. Hell, I'll even cut your hair myself, but only..." she jars an index finger in my collarbone then points to the basket almost forty six feet ahead, gesturing with her head. "...if you score a hoop from here." 

Gulp. Contemplating her conditions as I roll the ball up and down my lateral arms I ask, "And if I lose?"

"I'm allowed to dye your hair any crazy colour I want." The Mormon in me would resist the temptation because it was against their teachings. But I'm no longer that person. "Deal." We shake on it.

Stabilising my breathing through controlled inhales and exhales I envision the perfect trajectory for a successful score from this angle.

Feet shoulder width apart. Two bounces. Right hand on top, left hand beneath, exhale. I toss the ball in a high arch watching it follow the desired path.

Hitting the backboard it rebounds too far right. "It's a..."

"Damn."

*

"I can't believe I just got hustled by you of all people. You told me you were crap at basketball!" Scout whines, hanging her head in over exaggerated shame.

"How's this length?" An electric blue haired stylist asks, using scissors to draw an invisible line midway of my neck. I nod slightly nervous milling over the possible final product. What if it enhances my already round features? What if it doesn't suit me? I'm regretting this.

"I never said I was...crap," the word leaves a funny taste in my mouth but I shake it off, "I was just slightly better than the other kids in my home town."

"You're old home." She corrects whipping out her mobile phone to record the first initial snip cutting my rich brown hair.

I feel instantly lighter as the large chunk of spilt ends sinks to the tiled floor. No going back now. Scout's mouth falls open, her nervous laughter matching mine, "I just did that." I say triumphantly.

"Well, technically she did that." She shrugs one shoulder in the hairdressers direction who hides a smile, continuing to trim a rulers length of hair.

Ever since I made it here the sun seems a little brighter and hope --that I never thought I'd experience again-- is gradually returning. Without realising it I had unintentionally ruined the moment by asking, "So what's the deal with you and Andy?"

The thought slips out like soap through wet hands and I regret coming across as nosy. Scout tries to recover after flinching answering in a controlled manner, "We used to date a while back, when his hair was double the length it is now, believe it or not."

Her hands grip the phone border tighter turning her fingertips white. "Must've been nice though, while it lasted. I mean, it could've been worse." Could I sound anymore snoopy?

"Yeah, there were moments I gotta admit..." She trails off biting her lip reminiscently no doubt reliving those pleasant memories in her minds eye.

"I wish I knew the feeling." I say more to myself but to my dismay she overhears, inclining her head she reminds me of a confused puppy.

"Ok, I know there weren't exactly any 'sex Gods' where we came from--" I stiffle a laugh caught off guard by her blunt delivery. "--but even I had most of my firsts before I cut all ties to that despicable hellhole." Her face scrunches with disgust, adjusting the untamable whisps of her fringe in the mirror.

She continues recording, zooming in on her touch screen capturing my shy reply. "I wouldn't know." Scout freezes as her camera flashes but I don't notice until I meet her perplexed expression in the mirror.

If these walls could talk...

"You haven't—"

"Nope."

"How about—"

"Nup."

"Not even—"

"No chance." I'm suddenly deflated and depressed at the revealing prospect. At this point she abandons her recording. Even the stylist temporarily stops, muttering, "Poor child." 

Then she proceeds to slice the last clump of dry hair leaving behind healthy, level ends.