A Way Back Home | Adopted by Gerard Way (Book Two)

Who Needs Therapy When You Have Hair Dye (30)

"You're sure you want to do this?" Emerald asks for what feels to be the billionth time.

"Yes, Em!" I insist, exasperated as I grip her hand and drag her into the hair salon. "You have no idea how sure I am."

"Wait." Em stops in her tracks, her shoes squeaking on the tile floor, and I'm forced to halt. She puts her hands on my shoulders. "Just... explain to me again what we're doing here and why?"

I sigh. "Look, if my mother really wants me back, she'll have to take me however I come. Maybe if she thinks I'm a rebellious teen she won't want to deal with me and let Gerard keep me."

"So you're dyeing your hair bright red?"

"That is correct."

"Do you really think that'll work?" Em asks, her eyes full of apprehension. She chews her bottom lip nervously.

I hesitate, pretend to mull it over a few moments, then shrug. "I don't care at this point, Em, I'm desperate now that I single handedly ruined my case..."

"How many times do I have to tell you, you did nothing of the sort?"

I told Em over lunch about everything that went down with the cops, and me almost running away, and Ray finding me, and me having a breakdown, and... She was supportive as always, and even apologized for not checking in on me after therapy. Turns out she'd left her phone at school. I considered teasing her about it, but thought better when I remembered all the times I've left my phone in stupid places.

Not to mention all the times I've frantically searched for it while holding it in my hand.

"Whatever," I say with a shake of my head. "I don't wanna talk about it."

Just then, we hear a perky voice from somewhere behind. "Hi, girls, how can I help you?"

I whip around to see the woman standing behind the counter smiling widely at us with perfectly straight, white teeth. I already wouldn't trust her hair in my hands. Perfect.

Even though I know exactly what I want, I still stutter. "Um, I-I—"

"Can she get her hair dyed? Or did we have to make an appointment?" Emerald interjects, saving my ass as she's done countless times.

"Someone actually just called to cancel, so I can take you right now!"

Thanks to that fictionally convenient stroke of something-that-resembles-luck-because-I-still-won't-believe-it-exists, when I next step out of the salon, my hair is firetruck red.

I admired myself in a shop window for a few too many minutes, this time Em being the one trying to tug me away. With a satisfied nod at my reflection, I decide that I like my new look a lot more than I thought I would, but it's not complete yet.

"What do you think, Em?" I ask. We swing our hands as we walk through the mall toward our next stop, long since having stopped caring about the looks people might give two girls holding hands.

"Ketchup," she mumbles, holding back a grin.

"What was that?"

"Kidding! I'm kidding! You look hot."

I roll my eyes. "Thanks. But it's really not going with my galaxy hoodie, too much is going on. I've never been this colourful."

She assures me that black and white isn't the only aesthetic I can pull off just as we walk into a place her sister told us about that does piercings. The guy that greets us has tattoos adorning every inch of visible skin and about a dozen piercings spanning across his face and ears. I, on the other hand, have one in my nose by the time 5PM rolls around. The agreed upon time that I told Frank he could pick us up at the front of the mall. This was on purpose, of course. I decided it'd be safer if he saw me before Gerard gets to lay his eyes on my partially-mental-breakdown-inspired makeover.