I roll my eyes. "Nadia, this is serious-"
"I know, and I'm being serious," she interjects, holding up a pair of scissors as she throws a navy, silk bathrobe onto her bed. "Now sit down and slip this on. Oh, and I hope you aren't too attached to your hair."
At that, I stand back up, the robe halfway over my shoulders. "Oh hell no, you're not cutting my hair," I insist. Nadia makes a pouting face, snipping the scissors animatedly. "Ugh, fine," I groan and sit down. "But don't make it look terrible."
"I won't, I promise," she says, and begins snipping. I cringe every time I hear the scissors clip together, and shut my eyes to avoid watching my hair fall to the floor. After just a few minutes, she shoves a handheld mirror in my face. "What do you think?" she asks.
My hair is now longer at the front and shorter at the back. It falls over my forehead in one effortless wave. "Not bad," I say, fighting off a grin despite the seriousness. "Should we dye it?"
Nadia nods giddily. "Of course. But it'll have to be brown, 'cause that's all I've got," she says with a shrug, flipping her brown curls away from her face.
"Works for me," I say.
***
After what feels like several hours, Nadia has given me a full face of make up plus a tutorial, a new hairstyle, and a new hair color. I look like an entirely different person.
And with how long it's been, I'm surprised we haven't had any "visitors" yet.
I admire my new physique in Nadia's bathroom mirror. "I'll be honest, I kinda like it," I quip, turning this way and that to get a better view of myself.
Nadia smiles. "Great. Now all you need is a new name since, obviously, Alexa Brennan is no good anymore. You can bet every cop in the country has your name," she chortles, rolling her eyes.
I bite my lip. "Chloe?" I suggest, but immediately dismiss it with a wave of my hand. "Nah." Then, Nadia and I take turns rambling off names.
She starts with, "Alaina?"
I shake my head and suggest, "Emma?"
"Hannah?"
"Cailey?"
"Brooklyn?"
I whip around to face Nadia. "Yes! Brooklyn is perfect!" I exclaim. "It just. . . fits. With the hair and everything."
"Now you just need a last name," Nadia says, biting her fingernail. "Something simple, understated."
"Like Smith?" I say, raising my eyebrows.
Nadia shakes her head. "Nah, I'm thinking something more like Bell. It has a nice ring to it, after all. Brooklyn Bell. You're now Brooklyn Bell, unofficially eighteen years old, and a city girl."
Brooklyn Bell, I say to myself, until it becomes familiar. Brooklyn Bell. "Yeah, I like that," I say.
This will never work, I think to myself, sighing inwardly.
"Great. Well, Brooklyn, I think you're just about ready," Nadia says, running back to her closet.
I furrow my brow. "Ready for what?"
From the closet, she hollers, "To leave, of course."
"Oh," I mutter. "Right." In all of the girlish fun of the situation, I have managed to forget the utter gravity of it all.
That's when the big question hits me full force. I had been avoiding it until now, until I really had to face it:
Where am I supposed to go, and how on earth am I supposed to survive on my own?
Nadia throws a full outfit on the bed. "Change into this while I pack a few things for you," she says, and I scoop up the outfit and head into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.
I exhale deeply as I take in my reflection. I hardly even recognize myself; my hair is dark as is my make up, giving me an overall dramatic flair. The outfit Nadia gave me is also entirely darker shades: a pair of burgundy athletic leggings, and a black t-shirt. I quickly slip the outfit on and head out of the bathroom.
As soon as I exit, Nadia shoves a backpack in my arms. "I loaded this with money, food, and clothes. Go somewhere, get yourself a job; you'll be fine," she says quickly, as though she's being rushed.
"Nadia, you didn't have to-"
She hushes me, then suddenly grabs my phone and steps on it.
"Hey! What was that for?" I exclaim.
"They can track you through your phone." Nadia shakes her head. "There's no time, I heard my neighbors calling the police while you were changing. They probably saw you when you got here, so you need to go," she says, motioning to an open window in her living room. Then, she tosses me her car keys, which I just barely manage to catch between my thin fingers. "And take my car. I'll just break down in front of my parents and tell them I got teased for it being 'too old school' and trashed it. They always buy that, I've done it twice before," she says with a giggle. She immediately pulls me into a tight hug. "I'm gonna miss you, Ally. Good luck," she says with a sad smile.
I squeeze her back, fighting off more tears. "I'm gonna miss you too. Thank you so much for you help, I don't think I'll ever be able to repay you," I whimper.
She thumps me on the back. "Don't mention it. Now get out of here."
I say nothing as I race out the door, heading for her car.
***
Chapter 10 - Ally
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