“That’s too bad.” Mack leans over the counter and pulls my hair out of its usual low ponytail. She fluffs my hair around my shoulders and collarbones. “C’mon, let me cut it. You don’t have to wear it up anymore, so what’s the point? You’d look fierce with short hair. Maybe a little color?”
“Mom would kill you and me both.”
“Not permanent color. Wash out. At least until Midori gets used to it. Then we’ll make it permanent.”
“Jonah, why are you standing around?” Nobody noticed Mr. Choi coming in behind us. “Get changed, son. We’re on the clock.” He tips his head at us. “Ladies.”
Jonah chugs the last of his water and dutifully follows his dad.
“Fuchsia,” Mack says when Jonah enters the men’s locker room. “Your prom dress. It should be fuchsia. It’s a good color on you. And I bet Choi cleans up nice.”
“Stop!” I grab my Ice Dreams jacket off its peg and head to the skate counter. Fuchsia, the color of my face.
Chapter 4
By Saturday night, both my ripped shirt and my hair are fuchsia.
“Now, that’s a proper boutfit,” Mack says when I come out of her bathroom wearing the Goodwill outfit she insisted on buying for me this afternoon.
“I don’t know, Mack.” I run my hand through my now nine-inches-shorter hair. It’s practically a pixie cut. “Mom is going to freak.”
Mack adjusts six-month-old Fiona on her hip. “No, she won’t. Okay yeah, she will. But you’re a teenager. You’re supposed to disappoint and annoy your parents. You didn’t hear that, Fi. Don’t worry, Liv, Midori’ll come around. Eventually.”
“Or she may ground me.”
Mack and I laugh. That’s what normal parents might do, but Midori Nakashima and Michael Kennedy haven’t exactly figured this whole parenting thing out. Then again, Mack’s parents were a textbook example of helicopter parents, and look where she is now.
I adjust my black pleather skirt over my leggings and boots. “I should probably change before I go home, though.”
“Fine. One thing at a time.” Mack holds up her daughter in front of me. “See, Fi. Doesn’t Auntie Olivia look awesome?”
Fiona’s face crinkles and she howls in fear. Yeah, she doesn’t recognize me either.
“Aw, c’mon, sweetie. It’s me, Auntie Olivia.” I stretch my arms out toward Fiona.
She screams louder.
“Gran!” Mack yells over top of Fiona. “Gran, we gotta go. Can you come take Fiona?”
Mrs. MacIntosh shuffles in from the living room and holds her arms out. “Come to Granny.”
“Tyler is supposed to come by tonight,” Mack says, and Mrs. MacIntosh scoffs. “I know, but he promised, Gran. He’s bringing diapers and formula. The good kind.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Mrs. MacIntosh bounces up and down a bit until Fiona settles down. “Don’t be out too late. Be safe. And no drinking.”
“Yes, Gran.” Mack leans in and kisses the top of Fiona’s head and then her grandmother’s wrinkled cheek.
Mrs. MacIntosh looks at my boutfit and shakes her head.
* * *
As we slide into Mack’s Toyota, she looks me over one last time. A Cheshire Cat–like smile pulls across her deep purple lips.
“What?” I look in the rearview mirror and try to remove some of the four inches of black eyeliner Mack put on me. At least I’d talked her out of the magenta foil eyelashes—this time.
“Just own it.” Mack fires up the engine.
Ten minutes later, we pull into Arby’s for our pre-bout tradition. Mack’s friend from high school is working tonight. As always, she sells us large root beer floats for the price of smalls.
“Here’s to being fierce.” I hold my root beer float out to Mack.
“To being fierce.” Mack clinks her cup against mine, and we both take a noisy slurp.
When we head back out, there’s some guy leaning against Mack’s ancient Toyota. I look at Mack. She laughs at my expression.
“Did I forget to mention that Choi is meeting us here? His schedule was suddenly free.” Mack stops to burp loudly. “Remember. Own it.”
Jonah squints at me. “Olivia?”
I try to play it cool, though part of me wants to run in the opposite direction. I give him a nod.
Jonah’s eyebrows knit together. “I thought we were going to a roller derby match, not a Halloween party.”
“First of all, it’s a bout, not a match. Second, you’re the one who is going to look out of place, Choi.” Mack messes up Jonah’s hair. “Nothing a little guyliner can’t fix though.”
“No.” Jonah flattens his hair back down and tucks it behind his ears.
“Fine. Get in the car, kids.”
“Shotgun,” I say, and Jonah opens the door for me.
Mack pops a cassette tape—a cassette tape!—into her Toyota’s ancient sound system.
“Do you listen to anything besides Guns N’ Roses?” Jonah leans forward, resting his right arm on the top edge of my seat.
“No, Mack. Just, no.” I pop the tape out.
“Then you two pick something.” Mack takes a hard right.
My body shifts left, causing my exposed left shoulder to brush against the back of Jonah’s hand. I look back. Jonah’s face is so close to mine that I can see where he cut himself shaving. All five of the facial hairs he probably has. He smells good. The root beer bubbles in my stomach.
“God, Choi, you smell like somebody smacked you with a pine tree.” Mack rolls down the windows. “Spritz, don’t douse, next time, honey. My eyes are watering.”
Jonah sits back. The bubbles dissipate.
The Ability360 Sport and Fitness Center parking garage downtown is packed. I wish Ice Dreams had this kind of traffic on a Saturday night. Or any night.
Mack is only partially right about Jonah looking out of place. A middle-aged couple with arms full of tats parks next to us. On the other side of us, a young couple who look like they stepped out of a Target ad attempts to get a squirmy toddler into his stroller. I look down at my boutfit. I am so extra.
Like she can read my mind, Mack says, “It’s roller derby. Lean into the theatrical side of it. Own it. Choi, you sure you don’t want to borrow one of my derby T-shirts? There’s a clean one in my workout bag.”
“Nah.”
“You know, most teens go through experimental phases with their hair and clothing, right? It’s like a rite of passage or something.” Mack looks at Jonah in the rearview mirror. “Look at Olivia. She’s not afraid to experiment with her look.”
Well, that’s not true, but I’m not going to correct her.
“I think she looks hot, don’t you?” Mack’s icy blue stare challenges Jonah.
The question hangs in the air. I want to die, but not before I strangle Mack first.
“Okay, do it. Guyliner me.” Jonah catches my eye in the mirror. “Just don’t let me forget to take it off.”
“Awesome. You do it, Liv. My hands shake too much.”