Chapter Three

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A/N; This chapter is really long because I didn't want to stop writing it so written it's about 6 pages so not really that long.

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At the end of the day, Josh met me at my locker.

“Some guys in my last period invited us to a party. Do you want to go?”

“No. I’m not feeling too well. You can go ahead and go.”

“Thanks. Let’s go get your hair cut.”

He held his hand out to me.

I took it sadly.

“I think you’ll look great.” Josh said as we got into the car.

We pulled up to the hair cut place fifteen minutes later.

“Josh, I can’t go this.”

“You have to.”

“I can’t.”

“You have to!”

“I can’t!”

Josh got out of the car and slammed his door.

He walked around to my side and pulled the door open.

He dragged me out of the car and threw me over his shoulder.

“JOSH! What are you doing?!”

He carried me inside while I had a panic attack.

Josh told the lady at the counter what was going on and she kindly agreed to take me right then, right there.

He placed me in the nearest chair.

I looked up at him. “I hate you.”

“I love you too.”

I closed me eyes as she began cutting inch after inch off of my hair.

Time flew; and before I knew it, she was done.

“You’re done.” Josh said.

I didn’t open my eyes.

“Mickey, you’re done. Open your eyes.”

I opened one at a time, slowly.

I gasped at my reflection.

It looked like me, but my hair was so short.

“It’s so short.” I frowned.

“It looked great, Mick.”

“It’s so short.”

Josh paid the lady for my hair cut and dragged my out.

“Time for part two of the new Mickey.”

We went to the nearest drug store and grabbed a bottle of black hair dye.

“Let’s do this.” Josh said as we walked into my house.

I sat on a stool in the dining room as Josh prepared the bottle of hair dye.

(The process of my hair being dyes is long and boring, so I’m going to jump ahead to the finished product.)

I stood in front of the mirror with a towel wrapped around my head.

I pulled the towel off of my head and stared at my reflection.

“How does it look?” Josh called from out side of the door.

“It doesn’t look like me.”

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