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Brooklyn sneered as she looked at me, inhaling as she said, “You need a makeover.” Her friends smirked, and so did she, her large chest bouncing a bit. She wore tight clothes, a low-hanging shirt that showed off some cleavage, and jeans that made me wonder if she put them on or painted them on.
I let out a sigh. “Do you really think dying my hair is the best way to get back at me?” Her other crony pulled out a pair of scissors. “Cut my hair, and then dye it? Come on. Can’t you guys be a little more creative?”
“You made me look like an idiot, and I’ve spent this long tracking you down,” Brooklyn muttered, reaching for her friend, who handed her the scissors. “I’m going to enjoy this a lot more than I should.” She started to move towards me, but I stopped her with my next words.
“If you take one more step closer to me,” I started, speaking plainly, evenly, confidently, “I’m not going to be so nice when I walk out of here.” When all three girls did nothing but stare at me, I added, “That was a threat, by the way. If you let me walk away now, no one has to get hurt.”
Brooklyn snickered. “If you haven’t noticed, there’s three of us and one of you.”
“Yes,” I admitted, “but you’re just girls.”
“And you’re just a girl,” she said, holding up a finger. “One girl, and we aren’t afraid of you.”
I let her words sink in, nodding once. “Fair enough,” I relented, moving my shoulders until my backpack was secure around both and not just one. “Who wants to come at me first?” I watched Brooklyn glance to the girl who’d given her the scissors, a petite blonde who looked a bit scared.
Good. She should be.
The blonde said nothing as she took a step forward, but she was being much too slow about it. The moment she was within arm’s reach from me, I grabbed her, swung a leg beneath her feet and caused her to slam to the floor. She let out an oof. Her head landed only six inches from the restroom’s toilet.
I thought about putting a foot over her neck, but that might be overdoing it. These were just girls, after all. Not a real threat. They just needed to learn that I wasn’t someone they could get back at.
The friend with the hair dye came after me next, and Brooklyn decided it was best to try and double team me. I went for her friend first, naturally, grabbing onto her wrist and pushing her arm away from me. Sidestepping her clumsy figure was easy, and within a moment, I had a body shield between Brooklyn and I. I held my other arm along her friend’s neck, choking her only a little, a wrestler’s move she couldn’t escape from.
“What the fuck,” Brooklyn muttered, and I kept a hold of her friend as I walked toward the door. The blonde on the floor was slow to get up, rubbing her back and moaning about how that was going to bruise.
I threw the body shield at the blonde, sending them both tumbling to the floor. The blonde, actually, sat back into the toilet, and the disgusted look on her face told me she’d touched water.
Brooklyn lunged for me, and I kept my eyes on the scissors, waiting until I feigned to her left before snatching them right out of her hand while she was wincing in preparation for a punch that never landed.
These girls didn’t know how to fight, how to defend themselves. I’d learned a lot growing up without money…I also learned a lot from my ex.
When Brooklyn realized I had the scissors, she tried to tackle me, which was exactly what I knew she would do. All it took was a well-timed sidestep and she rammed herself into the wall. But by the time she caught herself and was ready to turn around, I had already snipped a good chunk of her hair off.
Hey, if they wanted to play dirty like this? If they wanted to go old-school humiliation? I was down with turning the tables on them.
Brooklyn spun, hugging the wall, gasping as she reached to the side of her head where I’d cut the chunk off. Her hair was longer than mine, and it was a good piece right on top, too. I held the long piece between two fingers, smirking at her baffled, startled expression.
“I’m taking these,” I said as I dropped the hair, meaning I was taking the scissors. As Brooklyn’s hair fell to the floor and her friends pulled themselves off the toilet, the blonde with a dripping wet ass, I snatched the box of dye off the sink and tucked it under my armpit. “And this.” I went to the door, leaving three upset girls in my wake. “Next time you come at me, I hope you have a better plan than this.”
Brooklyn started to swear, calling me bitch, among a few other colorful names, and I walked out, smiling to myself. I found my skateboard and hurried out of the building. Once I was on the sidewalk, I skated away as fast as I could after tucking the scissors and hair dye into my bag and zipping it up.
My thumb ached, a pain deep within its joint, flaring up as if asking me if I really had to do that. And I did—it wasn’t like I was going to let those girls do whatever they wanted to me. I didn’t care if Brooklyn was pissed. She could fall off a cliff for all I cared; getting mixed up with Sawyer was not something she should’ve done. And dying her hair pink because he told her to? Where was her self-respect?
My thumb wouldn’t be happy with me for a while, but at least I’d gotten out of there without losing hair or having black dye unceremoniously plastered onto my head. I wouldn’t look good with dark hair. I’d look washed-out and old. No thanks. Not with my warm, tan skin tone. I’ll keep my natural blonde and my pink tips.
Although…those girls did give me an idea involving dye.
Chapter Twenty-One – Ash
It was going to happen tonight. After Will left, after Declan was asleep. My bag was ready, tucked beneath my bed, out of sight and full of everything I’d need. I’d also borrowed a few things from Travis; he was all too willing to help me once I explained to him my plan. It was a come full circle kind of thing, the kind of plan that was the finale in and of itself.
But enough thinking about that now; I had a room full of two brothers currently racing each other in Mario Kart to see who’d play me next.
I’d finally hooked up one of the videogame consoles I’d brought, an older one, one I’d gotten when I was younger, when my dad tried to buy my love. It didn’t last long, and my mom had closed all contact between us soon enough, which was fine. I was on her side, one hundred percent.
I was on my bed, Declan and Will on the floor, my bare feet hanging off. I wore short jean shorts, along with a flimsy tank top. Chips were my go-to snack for the day, and I was nice enough to share with the brothers, too.
In the days following the hair-dying incident in the bathroom after class, it’d been quiet. I never told Declan about it, and I felt a little bad, but then I remembered I hadn’t told Declan about kissing Will either, so I felt a little less bad. No more mental breakdowns, no more reminiscing or having nightmares about the past. After tonight, I was going to let it go.
