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“That’s not bad,” I said, admiring the length as the straightener passed. “I think I will wear it out until Christmas.”
Ms. Nicki hummed her disapproval. “You’re a brave girl.”
She paused and checked her phone when it vibrated. She clicked her tongue.
“Everything okay?”
“I just unblocked your roommate this morning, and she’s already acting a fool.”
“Lord. What now? I swear, you two are gonna give me gray hairs.”
“It’s not me. It’s her,” Ms. Nicki exclaimed.
“Say it with me,” I said, raising my hands and clapping. “Accountability.”
“Now, when your ear sizzles off from this hot comb, I don’t want to hear anything.”
I rolled my eyes again. “You should be nice to me considering the fact that I play mediator.”
“You’re a horrible mediator,” she commented, tossing the comb into the stove.
“That’s because you both need therapy.”
“We tried that. Our therapist fired us.”
Do you know how dysfunctional you have to be to get fired by a therapist?
“You know what? You guys should go on a wellness retreat. Do some yoga, sweat out all that toxicity in the sauna, journal, and trade positive affirmations.”
Ms. Nicki snorted as she sectioned my hair to trim it. “That sounds like some cult bullshit.”
The sad part about her statement? Monica would’ve said the same damn thing.
“You still haven’t told me what y’all are fighting about.”
Ms. Nicki exhaled a deep sigh as she snipped away. “The same thing we always fight about.”
“You’re doing too much. Monica hasn’t even landed the internship yet.”
“No… but she will,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. “I don’t know how she did it, or where she got her brains from, but that girl is a genius with a stank ass attitude.”
“You could’ve left it at genius.”
“Then I’d be lying.”
Monica’s mom peered at her phone when another message came in. She sucked her teeth so loudly I needed earplugs. She snatched up her phone and showed me the screen. I folded my lips in, trying not to laugh because Monica was proving her mother right. Because why did the girl respond to her mother in Hanzi?
“What the hell does that say, huh?”
“I don’t know, Ms. Nicki. You’re gonna have to Google Translate or something.”
“You know what this says,” she insisted, pushing the screen closer to my face.
“I don’t. I know Russian, Italian, and English. I know a few words and phrases in Mandarin, but I can’t tell you what those characters say.”
She tossed the phone back on her station and continued trimming my hair. “You see how she treats me?”
I stared at her blankly through the mirror. “You blocked her for a week.”
