“Fancy?” I couldn’t help but smile at her word choice.
“It takes an hour, minimum, to dry my hair. And it’s this whole ordeal with hairdryers and frizz serums and brushes and—” she made a sound of disgust “—my arms are exhausted just thinking about it.”
“Why don’t you cut it?” The only time I’d seen her hair down was that night I’d found her sitting on my bed, and she’d looked so beautiful that I felt a little dizzy from the memory.
“Because I’m vain and I can’t.”
I laughed at her, because she said it like she was admitting to a crime.
“It’s true.” She lifted her head from the couch to look at me. “You didn’t know that about me, but I’m unconscionably vain. Ever since I was little, people told me I had pretty hair, so I figured the more hair I had, the prettier I’d be. It’s ridiculous now. I mean, when I put on my jeans, I have to untuck my hair from the waistband. I know I should cut it, but it’s like a sickness. Every time someone compliments me on it, I let it grow another inch. I’ll be stepping on it before long.” Her head fell back.
“It’s beautiful, your hair.”
She groaned. “Not you, too. I’m going to end up with a cape. I really should cut it.”
“But you’re not going to.”
“Nope.”
“Will you wear it down for me sometime?”
She sat up and folded her legs. “You’re not blushing at all. How are you doing that?”
She was just noticing? When we’d first started hanging out, I would constantly turn red around her. She had only to look at me, and I’d feel my face flush. But recently, I’d stopped. At first I’d thought it was because of all the time I was spending with Erica, as if the double exposure to two beautiful girls was burning me out or something, but Erica had never once affected me the way Jolene had even that first night. Jolene still said the same stuff she always had, but I’d stopped feeling embarrassed. I felt something else lately. And it didn’t make me turn red.
I felt guilty for how close Erica and I were getting.
“Maybe you’ve lost your touch.” I joined her on the couch.
“Well, that sucks.”
“For you maybe. I wasn’t a big fan.”
“But you won’t be as cute if you’re just plain all the time.”
I glanced at her. “You still think I’m cute.”
A sigh from her. “Yeah, I guess I do. But you’ll still blush sometimes, won’t you? For me? If I’m going to go through the laborious process of doing my hair, you have to turn a little red. Just the ears, hmm?”
Her eyes were wide and her eyebrows rose. Her lips were ever so slightly parted and bright red from the Atomic Fireball she’d been sucking while she cut my hair. I could lean forward right then and kiss her. I could do it. She’d taste like cinnamon.
I didn’t need to hear her squeal of delight to know I’d turned bright red.
I didn’t kiss her.
We watched Dumb and Dumber in her room, sitting against the foot of her bed, and she fell asleep with her head on my shoulder.
Jolene
When Shelly dropped me back at Mom’s on Sunday evening, I was surprised to see two cars in the driveway. Mrs. Cho didn’t drive, and Mom let her come only while I was at school and Mom was out, so I knew one of them wasn’t hers.
Mom pulled open the door the second I reached for the handle. She looked...good. I wished I could say normal, but normal for my mom is a far cry from good. She was barefoot and wearing jeans with a cozy-looking white sweater that had slipped slightly off one shoulder. Best of all, her eyes were clear and bright. Sober bright.
Her gaze hardened as she watched Shelly back down the driveway, but she soon turned her attention to me and smiled. Not a manic, brittle smile, and not a calculating one either. She gave me the kind of smile that meant happiness, pure and simple.
My blood cooled and I felt an instinct to turn and run after Shelly’s car.
Before that instinct reached my feet, Mom ushered me inside with a soft hand on my back. She asked me how my weekend had been, if I’d done anything fun or watched any good movies. She didn’t mention Shelly or ask about my dad.
Knots started to tie and cinch in my gut.
She was acting like...before. When things weren’t great but were so far from awful that comparison made them seem that way.
And then we rounded the corner into the formal living room I was rarely allowed in, and I understood why.
Mom gestured to the man standing by the white grand piano that had never been played. “Jo, this is my friend Tom.” She set her hands on my shoulders and gave them a little squeeze. “Tom, this is my daughter, Jolene.”
Tom wasn’t a bad-looking guy; he was older than the gym rat I’d been expecting, probably late forties. He didn’t have a paunch and still had all his hair, but his teeth were too white and I could see his fake tan on the palms of his hands. His polo shirt revealed short, veiny T. rex arms that looked wildly out of proportion for the rest of his body, which clearly meant he skipped too many leg days.
“The famous Jolene.” He strode toward me with his hand extended, and I just looked at him until Mom dug her thumbs into my shoulders. I shook Tom’s hand and he grinned, first at me, then Mom. “I know you said she was sixteen, but in my head I was expecting a little girl.” His gaze returned to mine. “Sorry, fifteen. Your birthday is on January 26, right?” He winked at me and added in a faux whisper, “I’m an Aquarius, too.”
His attempt to establish an instant bond was so aggressive that I wanted to back away. Everything about this guy felt like an assault, from his overpowering musky cologne to his too-loud voice that was still echoing off the vaulted ceilings.
Mom released me and went to stand by Tom. “I’ve been so excited for you two to meet. Tom and I have been spending a lot of time together.”
Tom slung an arm around her and pulled her into his side. “I’ve been keeping your mom company while you’re at your dad’s, trying to distract her from how much she misses you. Though to be honest, I never completely succeed on that front. You’ve left big shoes to fill, Jolene Timber.”
Mom and Tom turned equally expectant expressions toward me, and the knots in my stomach, though they’d stopped clenching, roiled restlessly.
It all felt so...fake. Rehearsed even. I looked at my mom and the easy, carefree costume she wore, and my gut cinched tight once more before I forced it to loosen.
“Yeah,” I mumbled. “I need to go unpack.” I lifted my tiny weekend bag and then headed up the stairs.