After Elliot

18: Festival Fun

A/N: There's been confusion about the book ending at chapter 17. Sorry, but it's going to take more than that to get rid of our little power couple, 'LIALISE!'

Enjoy the update!

I've dedicated this to @crazy_dominika, just because she's awesome (way better than my American friends that I actually see), and I miss her!

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Boutiques- did I mention I hate them?

Well, I do.

Every time I think that my mother is finally willing to let go of the fact that I'm just not a fancy girl, she surprises me and forces me into another store or boutique. She says it builds character, but I think she honestly just wants a daughter she can bond over shoes with.

"Harriet, if you want to bond over girly stuff, then do that with Lizzie," I gesture across the store, where Lizzie, my step-sister, is blazing through shoes like nobody's business.

"I'd rather bond with you! She'll never like me anyway," She waves away the simple idea of even getting to know Lizzie at all. Granted, she hates me, since she's always been jealous of what I have and how I look (not being stuck-up, or anything), which I don't know why, since she's gorgeous.

As we walk by the salon, my mother screeches, "Oh Analise! Let's get your hair done! New lifestyle, new you!" "Mom, I don't want these people to jack up my hair," I whisper, hoping the stylists surrounding us don't hear me.

"Oh, sweetie," She giggles, placing a hand on her chest, "they won't! They're professionals! Please, darling! We can let the stylist do whatever he'd like, as a surprise, yes? Please, oh please?" My mother sounds like a six-year-old begging for a stuffed animal in Toys R Us.

I shake my head. More begging ensues. Next thing I know, I'm seated in the chair with one of those cover-like things over me. The African-American stylist, Tyson, snaps his scissors open and closed, his lips pursed as he contemplates what to do with my head.

"I don't want to take any length off. It's in perfect condition, so I don't have to trim the ends. So, no cutting, unless you'd like me to." "Nah," I shrug, then begin to make faces at myself in the mirror.

My mother quickly smacks the back of my head, earning an, "Ow," from me. "What do you suggest, Tyson?" She questions him as I rub the back of my cranium.

"Well, we could dye it. Do a mix of blonde and brown." A woman with that hair description walks by, and I shiver, "Like that?" He glances at her, his face crinkling up, "Oh no, sweetie, that's ratchet. I've come straight out of Hollywood to do hairstyles down here, I'm sure I can do better than that."

I give up- this is going to happen whether I want it to or not, "Work your magic, Ty." "Yay!" He chirps, then works on mixing up the dye and whatnot. "I may make the brown of your hair darker than it is. Also, I'm using permanent dye, so your roots will show if you don't come back and renew the color."

"Gotcha," I wink at him through the mirror, and he smiles. My mother suddenly appears in the mirror, and I flinch at her proximity to me. "Isn't this exciting?" She shrieks, in my ear. I wince, and speak, "Yeah, very. I thought you were checking on Lizzie." She waves a dismissive hand, "She's fine. Just talking to some boy."

I shrug, thinking nothing about it. Lizzie is fifteen, she's bound to talk to boys. "Is this a good color?" He shows my mother, and she bounces. "That's wonderful, Tyson!"

She clasps her hands together against her chest. I roll my eyes, then wait for him to show me the color, but he doesn't. "It's a surprise, dear," Harriet tells me, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.