Wild, Wilder, Wildest

Second

I took a deep breath and got up from my current position. It was the morning of the next day. The last day of school, summer was finally here. No more pain. I took a shower and got ready. I grabbed my phone and called my best friend, my only friend, Bray.

"Bray?" I said, pacing in the living room.

"Yeeeaaah? What up?" She cheered. God, I love her, always happy, and never judge mental.
"You just bought a car right?" I asked hesitantly, I didn't want to seem desperate, at the same time that I knew I was.

"I did. I absolutely did, and it is a beauty like no other, other than you of course. Do you want me to take you for a spin? To school though, so sadly, no breaking the law. This time." She laughed.

"Thank God you know me so well. I would love a ride in Bray's glorious... what was it again?" I paused.

"Mustang of ALL MUSTANGS!" She said, in a low, fake, but powerful voice, "and thank you for apparently not knowing me so well." I could hear it in her voice that she was smiling.

I grabbed my backpack and opened the door, "Yeah, okay. Anyway, I'm ready to be taken to school on the Mustang of ALL MUSTANGS now."

The bell rang for the last time this school year, and everyone couldn't be happier. I jumped into Bray's car, and she smiled over at me, revving the engine of her 2013 silver Ford Mustang. Bray turned the radio up, as the song, "Jailhouse Rock" started to play. We belted out the lyrics, and I couldn't feel freer. She drove into the mall's parking lot, not the one in town, the one in the depth of the city, where we would hopefully not run into anyone we knew, and got out. Heading into Forever 21, we headed to the plus size section. I'm sorry, did I not mention the fact that we're overweight before? Well, if it actually mattered, I would've said it earlier.

Before I say anything else, let me tell you that Bray is rich. Very rich, loaded to the point of no return, and she is also one of the most generous people you will ever meet. Which means, that she pays for all of the shit I can't, but want.

"You know what we should do?" Bray came to an abrupt stop as she was searching through the racks.

I leaned on the wall, "What?"

"We should get a makeover."

"Wh-What? What did you just say?" I stared wide-eyed at her.

She turned around and walked over to me, "We should get a makeover. But not a silly, mani-pedi thing. A full-on makeover. Change our hair, get a different style, work out, eat healthily. The whole shabang. Look, Juno, I'm tired of being like this. I'm tired of people only wanting to be my friend because I'm rich, except for you, and I'm tired of you getting bullied because of it. We need a change, and we need it now."

I just stood there, and stared at her in shock, then replied, "Alright then, let's go."

After hours of waxing, and mani-pedi's, and running from store to store consulting professionals, finding out what style fits us best, we finally ended up at the hair salon. We walked in, and immediately a man and a woman walked up to us and sat us down in their, oh so comfortable chairs.

The man, whose name tag said, Ricky, spun my chair around, "So what do you want to do? You have endless options, considering how long your hair is." He brushed a piece of hair behind my ear, and smiled brightly, "Do you want to go mid-length and see if you can do, "The Rachel" from Friends, if you haven't seen it you've got to, it's hilarious. Maybe cut it shorter, like Anne Hathaway, who absolutely rocked it, like nobody else could. Except for you, maybe."

I held my hair up, which reached my waist, held my hand up to top of my shoulder, "I want it cut here, and I want to get honey-ish brown highlights, and I want them blended really well so they're subtle," I paused for a second, "please."

After an hour or so, I opened my eyes and saw someone I adored. My hair looked amazing, and I saw a flicker of hope in my eyes. I stood up, hugged Ricky, and walked out to see Bray. While my hair was a dark brown, her's was softer and lighter and riding on the line of dirty blonde. It wasn't anymore. Her hair was chopped like mine, but instead of to her waist like mine once was too, it was an inch or two past her collarbone, and dyed a gorgeous Rose Gold. Her smile seemed brighter, and her hair complimented her eyes so well.

"Honey, we couldn't look better!" She squealed out with excitement.

"I think we could after we start working out and all that stuff you said earlier." I laughed.

She huffed, "You're right, we gotta do that too."

We ran back to the car and drove to her house. We went up to her room and she pulled her laptop onto her, and we began our search for a personal trainer and a chef. We stumbled on a website for someone guy that seemed perfect, and not only in job qualifications, in the fact that he was probably an angel sent from heaven. He was a personal trainer and a chef, how obvious is it that he's the one we have to choose?

"This one, this one, this one, him, him, him, him," Bray said.

I grinned as I turned to her, "You just read my mind."

We called the number, and he said, yes, absolutely, sound like a great idea, blah, blah, blah. So, Bray walked me back to my house, and I fell asleep thinking about how great our lives would become in a few days, putting aside the fact that I'm pregnant, and life will probably just get harder from there, and if you don't think about it, it doesn't seem too terrible.