Nineteen: New Haircut and New Rooms †

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I was in town the subsequent night after only hours ago, finding out Lea had anorexia.

I shuddered. I would never wish that, not even on my worst enemy. How could you?

Strolling through the town, the sky was beginning to darken, the stars already present with their ambient lighting. Not many students were about, the only ones who had a sombre quandary with excessive alcohol consumption. Needless to say, I kept my head bowed whenever I had to amble past a staggering drunk and kept ploughing on.

I managed to find the hairdressers at the end of the street. They could only do tonight for me considering they closed at ten and I have classes and I couldn't wait until the weekend. My hair needed sorting out and I had to come now. Needs must, I mused.

Lucy's Salon was a dazzling pink coloured building with black doors and windows. In the window were heads off mannequins with wigs on, presenting all the different hairstyles. I opened the door, the bell chiming through the salon before, who I presumed was Lucy, greeted me with a smile. She looked about twenty five.

With fiery orange hair and sparkling blue eyes, she had tattoos from her neck down to her wrists, with even the little tattoo freckling her hands and fingers. She wore a mini skirt, ripped tights, knee-length black boots and a random, baggy top. She certainly wants to stand out, I remarked. She had aubergine lips and green eye shadow on, and foundation to cloak the freckles and scars I could distinguish from this close up.

"I have an appointment," I announced. "Tiegan Smith."

Lucy ran her finger down what seemed to be the appointment book until, "Ha," she said, "found you." She looked up at me and smiled wider with her whitened teeth. "So you want a trim?"

"Yes please."

Lucy beckoned me towards a chair near the back of the salon by the sinks and hair products in prior to wrapping a backwards cape around me. She messed with the seat a little, adjusting it so it was higher before lowering me an inch. I sat, unsure of how to make conversation. I was always the coy and timid girl growing up.

"So, anything in particular you want?"

I contemplated it for a moment, compressing my mouth shut before, "Just a little off the ends; I want to keep it long. I've also been thinking about having layers, too and maybe a medium length side fringe?"

Lucy looked like she was imagining it all on me. "Sure, yeah, I can do that. Would you like a drink or something while I do?"

I shook my head. "No thank you."

A full half an hour of straightening (to make it easier to cut), cutting, separating of hair, fringe-making and mindless blether later, Lucy smiled. She brought out a mirror from behind the huge mirror in front of me – much like a vanity mirror with the light bulbs – and held the mirror behind my head so I could see the back.

My hair was still long, about the same length now it was straighter, regardless of being cut. I had a side fringe which swept across my forehead neither neatly or messily to the right and on the left side, it was shorter, too where the fringe would be there. I could distinctly see the shorter pieces of hair – my layers – cascading down in patterns right to the tips.

I smiled. "Thank you, I love it."

Lucy shook her head, trying to stifle a smile but not succeeding. She withdrew the cape, shaking the unattached hairs to the floor as I wiped them off me, the odd exception that had fallen down the blasted cape. I stood up and strolled to the desk, getting my purse out of my russet bag before Lucy stood behind the desk, taping away on the till.

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