Babysitting the Bad Boy's Brother

"Can I copy ur homework" "I got all the answers wrong" "Is that what I asked u"

Thanks so much for 3k reads! (2/27/17)

I sit in my car for what feels like an eternity, trying to gather up the courage to head inside.
"It'll be quick... like a band-aid. You just gotta rip it off." I reason with myself. "You can do this. I can do this." I hop out and head up the steps, hovering in front of the door. I look inside the glass door for my dad. You'd think a cop would be against an almost-completely glass door, but here it sits. There are offices on each side of the door and a staircase to the right leading up to an open hallway. I can see down to the living room but the kitchen is out of sight. I guess I'm going in blind. I jam my key into the door and step inside.

"Claire? That you?"

I roll my eyes at his greeting. The cop in him is always overly cautious. "Who else, dad?"

I close the door behind me and lock it, taking deep breaths to calm my racing heart. You'd think I'm confessing to a murder. But honestly I wish that were the case. At least my dad would know how to deal with that.... but a teenage daughter with blue hair? uh-uh.

"So.. dad..." I call into the kitchen. "Theres something I need to show you. Do you... Can you promise to not.. like.. flip out? Or at least let me explain?"

"Claire, what are you talking about?" He asks slowly, a warning. I hear his heavy boots head towards the door, and I panic.

"Dad! Stop. Just.. Stay there. Let me come in to you. Just promise you won't like... shoot me."

I can almost feel him rolling is eyes. I hear him groan. "I'm not going to shoot you, Claire."

I slowly put my keys on the table and walk towards him with a sheepish smile on my face. "Surprise..."

His eyes practically bulge out of his head, and I see his hand twich by his side. Probably itching for his gun, or something. "Claire, what in the world have you done?" He asks angrily.

"You see, this really isn't my fault. In fact, it's the complete opposite of my fault. If you need to punish someone, and believe me, punishment is definitely due, punish Kate. And Lindsey. Hallie too. This," I point to my hair, "is completely, one hundred percent their fault."

He crosses his big muscled arms over his big muscled chest, and I gulp. "Oh really?"

"Yes, really. They thought it would be a great idea to dye my hair while I slept. While. I. Slept, dad. They raped my hair!" I see him scowl at the use of that word, but I continue. "Words can't even describe how violated I feel! You would know if.. well... you know... you had any hair." I motion to his bald head and he sighs.

"Claire..." He says exasperatedly.

"I know, dad. I know. It's awful."

He stares at me for a while, probably analyzing me or something, and sighs again. "You hate it, don't you."

"Words cannot even describe."

He uncrosses his arm and walks over to the fridge. "So what do you want for dinner?"

My jaw actually drops. "I'm sorry... What?"

"I asked what you wanted for dinner." He searches through the fridge and starts taking random items out.

"So no juvie? No forcing me to shave my head? No elite boarding school for the unruly children?"

"Really, Claire? Come on, I'm sure you know I'd be more original than that."

"I just don't understand. You've never let me dye my hair a natural color before... and this is.. blue."

"I guess it reminds me too much of your mother."

I gulp. "How?"

He closes the fridge and heads over to the stove to turn on a burner. "She dyed her hair purple once when we were dating. Your mom was still in law school at the time, and the lawyer she was interning with had a case for an employee who was fired because someone thought the color of their hair determined the level of their intelligence. So your mother, a successful law student, interning with one of the most famous lawyers in the city dyed her hair just to prove that hair color doesn't determine success." He speaks of her with adoration in his eyes. If this is what love does to people than I don't want any part of it. "You just look a lot like her."

I nod slowly. "Well," I joke, "This is blue, not purple."

He smiles at me. "I guess you're right, and in that case, you're grounded."

"Ha-ha. Wow. You are so funny."

"Go change. Dinner will be ready in ten."

I comply, heading up to my room and eyeing my violin on my dresser. I decide against practicing because I am exhausted. I change into a big tee shirt and pajama shorts, before heading over to my bathroom to wash my face. I'm taken aback by the blue haired girl before me. The blue really makes my eyes pop, and my summer tan looks really nice in contrast.

The girls were right. It actually does look kind of, dare I say it, good. It's a light blue, but more of a steel blue. It's lighter in some places because of the hair dye remover stuff which we tested on a few strips to make sure my hair wouldn't fall off (Hint: It didn't work). My roots are naturally darker than the rest of my hair, so that's how it looked with the dye.

Hallie said the original color looked kind of bad because it was unevenly applied (since it was put on in the middle of the night.... by a drunk person... as I slept) but now it looks like the bleach and remover kind of leveled it all out.

I mean, it obviously doesn't look professionally done but it kinda looks good.

I still hate it though. Obviously.

..

OK SO LIKE DYING YOUR HAIR LIKE THIS DOES NOT ACTUALLY WORK IN REAL LIFE IF YOU TRY TO DO THIS YOU'LL END UP LOOKING LIKE A FRICKEN TRAIN WRECK IF U WANNA DYE YOUR HAIR PLEASE BE SMART SO YOU DONT DESTROY YOUR HAIR. I DONT KNOW SHIT ABOUT HAIR PRODUCTS SO I JUST HAD HER DO IT LIKE THIS BUT PLS DONT ATTEMPT