First Impressions: A Modern Pride and Prejudice Adaptation

Chapter 29

Cat turned the chair, wobbling it over the carpet in a way that reminded Liz of a rocky boat or turbulent airplay, so Liz could see into the mirror as she picked up a section of hair. "Tell me where you want it."

Liz tilted her head a few times and moved Cat's hand up. "There."

"Are you sure?" she squeaked. "That's, like, five inches!"

"Do it," Liz said, her voice sounding rather more vicious to her own ears than she had intended. She pulled off her glasses, throwing the room into a soft blur of color. She could barely even see herself in the mirror, which was good because she didn't want the chance to second guess or regret her decision. It would be easier to live with it afterwards than dither about it beforehand.

Lydia called her encouragement from her bed. "I like it! Think it'll look great, sis." She kicked one foot in the air, arching her toes inside her sock.

"Okay." Cat did not sound convinced. "If you say so." When she put her hand on Liz's shoulder, the plastic crinkled. In lieu of a hair smock, she cut a hole in the bottom of a plastic trash bag.

They had to wait several days for both Mr. and Mrs. Bennet to be out of the house so Cat could raid the kitchen for the necessary supplies. Along with the garbage bag, she picked up foil, Styrofoam bowls, dishwashing gloves, and one of the pastry brushes Mrs. Bennet always complained about.

There was also no one there to hear the squeaks and squeals as Cat carefully, if not skillfully, snipped through Liz's hair. Dark brown locks fell to the floor; only a few of them missed the plastic she had laid down. She ruffled her hands through Liz's newly shortened hair, making soft noises to herself as she snipped a few last strands.

The dying was a little more complicated. Through the open bathroom door, Liz and Lydia heard taps running and plastic clattering against the counter. In the mirror, Liz could just make out Lydia's face as she twisted and pulled her expression, but she couldn't read the details of her face. "What's going on?" she mouthed.

Lydia looked over her shoulder, trying to peer through the partially cracked bathroom door. She turned back and shrugged, putting her whole body into the motion so Liz could see it clearly. Eventually, she reentered the bedroom, balancing a bowl of swirling blue dye in one hand and her laptop in the other. She put the bowl down on the dresser first, followed by her laptop. The brightly lit screen revealed an entire browser page dedicated to tabs of home hair dying tips and information. While Liz could not clearly read the words, she could tell just from the large video on the main tab what was going on. In the mirror, she could see Cat snapping on the dishwashing gloves as if they were a surgeon's; the effect was ruined by the thick, rubbery fingers and the way they gapped around her forearms. "Hey, I thought you knew what you were doing!" she half joked. "Maybe I should have done this on my own."

"I do know what I'm doing!" Cat snapped back, her petulant tone leaving Liz with slightly less confidence than before. She didn't close the laptop lid. Lydia snickered from the bed and slumped back over to scroll through her phone.

Somewhat more roughly than necessary, Cat sectioned Liz's hair into four parts and began painting on the bleach. Rather than going blue all over—which would mean both high maintenance and the shock and horror of her mother—she asked for just the bottom third of her hair dyed. That meant rather more work in the preparation, including wrapping the pieces in foil and waiting.

The bottom of Liz's bookshelves held all her unread books and she had grabbed one at random. She rubbed her fingers over the corner of the volume, not looking at anything in particular. Still disinclined to read, the crisp white pages and sharp corners seemed dangerous rather than inviting. She craved the softness of a reread, a well-known story to comfort.