I glanced at Chub, who was rolling over and sighing in a tangle of covers. His hair was so pale, it was almost white, with a wash of gold. I couldn’t imagine that color on me.
“I need to cut it too,” Prairie said, apologetically. “I wouldn’t ask, if it wasn’t so important.”
While she mixed up the dye, filling the room with an acidy smell, I stripped down to the tank top I was wearing under my flannel shirt.
“Let me cut some first,” Prairie said, after she spread a sheet from her bed on the floor in the center of the room, then put the desk chair on top of it. “Just get some of the length off. Then I’ll shape it when the color’s done, okay?”
I sat in the chair and she ran her hands through my hair. She gathered it into a ponytail and twisted it. I shut my eyes and tried to relax.
The first cut left my head feeling strangely light. I didn’t want to think about my hair falling to the floor, so I asked Prairie something I’d been wondering.
“How could you not know that Bryce wasn’t who you thought? I mean, you were … you know.” Sleeping with him, I thought but didn’t say.
Prairie paused. I could feel the heat from her skin, her hands inches from my face.
“I think deep down I knew something was wrong. But it’s amazing what you can convince yourself of when you’re in denial. Here, I’m going to start with the color, okay?”
She began to dab it onto my hair, starting at the roots and working out to the ends. It smelled terrible and stung my scalp.
“What did you like about him?” I asked. “I mean, at the beginning.”
A little bit of the dye dribbled toward my eyebrow. “Well, for one thing, I thought he was hot.”
I brushed the dye away. “In what way?”
“Kind of a, I don’t know, clean-cut look. He dresses well—really well. He likes expensive clothes. And he’s always worked out a lot. He’s a little compulsive about it, I guess you could say. He’s average height, but he’s got a naturally athletic build. Broad shoulders, strong arms …”
“Light hair or dark?”
“Brown … kind of a medium brown, I guess. And brown eyes.”
He didn’t sound bad, but he also didn’t sound all that special. “What else?”
“Well, he’s incredibly smart. I think that was the biggest thing, to tell you the truth. He has a doctorate, or at least he says he does, though now I don’t know how much of what he told me was true and how much was lies.”
I thought about that. The smartest guy at Gypsum High was Mac Blair, but it would be a pretty huge stretch to call him hot. He wasn’t a geek, exactly—it was just that his mind was always on something else, usually some random fact he’d picked up online. “How did that make you like him?”
Prairie didn’t answer for a moment. Her hands on my hair were confident and efficient, distributing the dye evenly over my head.
“Part of it was, I guess, that I hadn’t known anyone like him before. Most of the guys I’d known—well, you know how it is in high school. It’s not like anyone was even all that curious about the world outside Gypsum. And I went to this little junior college and night school, anything I could do to get enough credits to graduate, and it wasn’t like I was around geniuses there, either. Even when I was working in the labs, a lot of the guys I met, they weren’t really all that happy to be there, they weren’t committed to the work. Not like Bryce.
“But it was also … I wanted so badly to do something with my gift. I wanted to matter. And Bryce seemed like he could make that happen. I guess it was a little bit of a power thing, you know?”
“You thought that if you were with Bryce, he could open doors for you? Get you a better job, more money, stuff like that?”
“No, not exactly. More like, with his background and resources, he made me think the things I dreamed about were actually possible. That they could happen in my lifetime. I mean, now I know I was only seeing what I wanted to see and believing what I wanted to believe. But it was just so easy to put my faith in Bryce, this incredibly successful guy, and I was blinded by the fact that he wanted me.”
“But what about other people? The people you worked with? Didn’t any of them get suspicious about him? If they were closer to the data, didn’t they wonder what he was researching?”
“Well, yes. About six months ago, Bryce started replacing a lot of the employees who’d been there a long time. He brought in people from all over the country, even a couple from other parts of the world. They were his inner circle, and when they weren’t meeting with Bryce, they kept to themselves. I think they knew exactly what was going on … I think they’re in on it. He can’t do this on his own, not without getting caught.”
“What about the people he fired? Weren’t they angry? Or suspicious about what he was doing?”
“Bryce gave them a lot of money, made them sign all kinds of nondisclosure documents. And most people knew about my relationship with Bryce and kept their distance, so I didn’t stay in touch with the ones who left. I did have this one friend.…” She smiled at the memory. “He was hilarious. His name was Paul, and he was our tech guy, just this brilliant, geeky guy who could make you laugh. He only left a few weeks ago. I think Bryce had trouble finding someone who could do what Paul could; he was a genius at security and computers and all that.”
“Weren’t you mad when Bryce fired him?”
Prairie’s smile faltered. “Yes … I guess I was. I mean, when I think about it now, I am, since he was the only person besides Bryce who’d have lunch with me or get coffee or whatever. And I don’t think he really trusted Bryce. He made me a backup of some of the security systems without telling Bryce, said it was in case anything happened to him.”
“Maybe he had a crush on you.”
Prairie laughed. “Maybe. He was always blushing when we talked. His only hobbies were paintball and computer games, but you know, he probably would have been a better boyfriend than Bryce. Guess I need to work on that, my taste in men.”
As she finished dabbing the dye around the crown of my head, I wondered if I’d ever have a boyfriend, and if so, whether I’d pick a good one. Maybe, being Banished, we didn’t have the common sense other people did. We were attracted to people like us, and as far as I could tell, most of the men weren’t great. Although Bryce wasn’t Banished … and Prairie had still made a mistake.
“Did you ever think about dating Paul?”
“He never asked. I don’t know … if he had, maybe things would have been different. I liked him a lot. He was shorter than me, not that it matters, and he had a ponytail, so if you like that … But it’s a good thing we were friends, because he made me keep a spare prox card when they rekeyed the lab.”
The familiar anxiety stirred in my gut. “Why is that a good thing?
Prairie didn’t say anything for a minute as she wound the dye-coated strands of hair on top of my head. “It will let me get back into the lab. This won’t be over until I destroy the data. I can’t let Bryce move forward with … what he’s doing.”
“How are you going to do that?” I tried to keep the hysteria out of my voice, but all I could picture was the killers in our kitchen. “You think he’ll let you just walk in there and—”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Prairie said gently. “We need to focus on the moment, on—”
“Is that why we’re going to Chicago? Can’t we go somewhere else? Somewhere he can’t find us?”
“We will. I promise. As soon as we do this last thing, we’ll go far away and start over. But Hailey, neither one of us is going to be safe as long as Bryce is still active.”
“But couldn’t we wait a while? Let things die down? You could get your friend Paul to help you, and when it was safe, you guys could, I don’t know, sneak back in or something.”
“I’m afraid it would be even more dangerous to wait,” Prairie said. “I don’t know how far Bryce has gotten. They were close to some key breakthroughs. But Hailey, you really need to tr
y not to worry about that right now. Just relax while the color sets.”
While Prairie cleaned up, I watched SpongeBob with Chub until it was time for me to rinse. On the sheet she had spread out, my hair lay in glossy piles, but I tried not to think about it.
I undressed in the bathroom and stepped into the shower, making the water as hot as I could stand it. I spent a long time lathering and even longer rinsing, standing under the shower with my head tipped back.
When I was finally done in the shower, I felt both worse and better. Worse because now I understood what was driving Bryce, and we were headed right back into it. Better because I was finally starting to believe that Prairie wouldn’t abandon me. I dried off and wrapped the bath towel around my body. Then I took a washcloth and wiped away the steam on the mirror.
I was shocked. My hair was a pale, pale shade of gold. Nearly all the color was gone—and it hung in a heavy, straight line below my ears.
I felt my eyes fill with tears, and swallowed hard. It was ridiculous—my appearance was the least of my problems. But I still looked away from the mirror as I got dressed.
When I came out of the bathroom, Prairie pointed to the Walmart bags. “There’s a new shirt in there. Go ahead and keep your shoes—I didn’t know your size, and people won’t be looking at those. Or your jeans. So really, it’s just the top.”
I unfolded the shirt. It was black with gray sleeves, and printed on the front was a silver skull with a leering grin, flames shooting out of its sides.
“I know, you hate it,” Prairie said. “Sorry. I thought we’d do kind of a rocker look for you.”
“It’s … not so bad,” I lied.
“I have these.…” She rooted around in the bag and came up with a pair of earrings that looked like pieces of bicycle chain. She also had a black leather cuff with snaps and rivets, and a silver ring with a skull on it. “If it’s any comfort, I picked this because I thought it was the opposite of your look. I mean, you’re so pretty, like your mom.…”
Her voice faltered and I turned away, partly to let her have her privacy and partly because I was kind of shy about changing in front of her. I found underwear and socks in another bag and slipped them on, then pulled my jeans back on and put on the new top. It smelled like the Walmart, clean and chemical-y, and it was tight enough that I had to tug on the sleeves to get them to sit right on my arms. I yanked off the tags and dropped them in the wastebasket.
“Very nice,” Prairie said, with a smile that looked genuine.
“Hay-ee?” Chub, who had been tucking his giraffe into a pillowcase, seemed to have just noticed me. “Hair … What happen?”
I touched my newly short hair. “It’s all right, Chub, it’s just a different color. It’s nice.”
Chub liked his new clothes, the nubby sweatshirt and corduroy pants. As he went back to playing with his giraffe, Prairie got to work on me.
There was a lot of snipping, but it went fast, bits of hair flying to the floor as Prairie worked. Finally she stepped back and checked out the results. She snipped a little more and then got the motel hair dryer out of the bathroom.
“I wish I had a little product,” she said. She ran the dryer for a few minutes, pushing my hair this way and that.
“Oh …,” she said when she was done. “I really like it, Hailey—I think it suits you. I mean, you can always grow it back but, well, I hope you like it too.”
I went in the bathroom and stared in the mirror. Dry, my hair was a shiny platinum blond. It was cut so the front curved just a little past my chin, and then it got shorter in the back, with choppy layers I could feel with my fingers. A few chunky bangs were smoothed across my forehead.
It was amazing. It was better than anything you could get in Gypsum—I knew that instantly. For a second I wished I could go back to school just long enough for everyone to see. I looked like—I caught the thought and held it for a second—like someone in a band, like someone everyone else wanted to be.
“Happy with your new look?” Prairie asked, smiling, when I came out of the bathroom.
Before I could answer her, Chub jumped up from the floor where he’d been playing with his giraffe. “Bad mans,” he mumbled, and pointed at the door. Then he pressed his face into my jeans and hugged my legs hard.
Prairie crouched down next to him. “Where are the bad men, Chub?” she whispered. “Are they close by?”
Chub nodded, his lower lip stuck out in a pout. “Outside.”
She gave him a little hug and stood up, grabbing her purse off the bed and pulling out a little black canister.
“How, um, accurate is he?” she whispered. “With these predictions?”
“These what? I mean, he only just started talking. He never even went to the potty by himself until yesterday.”
If Prairie was surprised, she didn’t show it.
“Get that,” Prairie whispered, pointing at the last of her purchases, a pale pink backpack with the tags still attached. “Pack up.”
I jammed our things into it, our dirty clothes and the Walmart purchases. Prairie grabbed her plastic bags and stuffed them into her oversized purse.
“I’m really tired,” she said in a loud voice. “I think I might lie down for a bit. Hailey, could you get my purse? I left it in the bathroom.”
She was shaking her head as she talked, gesturing at the opposite side of the door. I grabbed Chub’s hand and pulled him with me. When Prairie crouched down across from me, I did the same. Prairie felt around frantically on the wall until her hand found the outlet, never taking her eyes off the door. She yanked out the electric cords, plunging the room into semidarkness, and then grabbed the table lamp, holding it by the narrow top of the base. She held a finger to her lips. I could feel my heart pounding under my new shirt.
CHAPTER 16
WHEN THE DOOR BURST open, I jumped. Splinters of wood flew toward me and Chub. There was a crash and a man lurched into the room, landing on the floor.
“Go!” Prairie screamed.
She gave the desk a shove and it slammed down on the man’s head. I didn’t wait to see if he was hurt. I picked up Chub and hurled myself out the door, Prairie right behind. A skunky smell followed us. I could feel my throat seizing and I started to cough. When we were outside, I sucked down fresh air. The sun was so bright I was blinded for a moment, but Prairie pushed me, hard, toward the car.
“Rascal!” I screamed. “Come here, boy!”
He trotted out of the room, looking unconcerned. Prairie had the keys in her hand, and the locks clicked open as I reached for the handle. I didn’t bother trying to get Chub settled, just pushed him and Rascal into the backseat and jumped in front as Prairie backed up.
The tires screeched as she twisted the wheel and aimed for the parking lot exit. A couple walking across the lot jumped out of the way, the man yelling and giving us the finger, but Prairie paid no attention. She pulled into traffic, wedging the Buick between a fast-moving compact car and a dawdling truck full of lawn mowers, and then shot across a couple of lanes, making a U-turn on a yellow light.
Then we were racing back toward the on-ramp and onto the highway.
I’d only inhaled a little of the pepper spray or whatever it was, and I managed to get my throat cleared and my breathing back to normal.
I leaned over the seat and helped Chub get buckled in.
“Car seat,” he said. On top of everything else, he was adding new words faster than I could keep track of.
“That’s right, this is your special seat,” I said. “You did good, Chub. Good boy.”
“They found us,” Prairie repeated. She switched lanes again, pulling to the right and cutting off a slow-moving sedan. She veered onto an exit that led to an oasis of fast-food restaurants and gas stations.
“What are you doing?” Keep moving!—I felt the urgency in my gut to put as much distance as possible between us and the guy in our motel room.
“Bryce’s men tracked us down,” Prairie said, “and it wasn’t t
he car. It couldn’t have been. Come on. Bring the backpack.”
She pulled in to the first restaurant, a Wendy’s, and parked crookedly in a spot near the entrance. I grabbed Chub and the pack, leaving Rascal in the car, and followed Prairie in. She went straight for the ladies’ room and tried the door.
“Good,” she said. “It’s a one-person. Come on in.”
I felt strange following her, and checked around, but no one was paying attention. There were a few customers in line, knots of two and three people at the tables, a hum of late-afternoon conversation.
Prairie locked the door behind us.
“My turn,” Prairie said, digging into her purse for a Walmart bag. She stripped off her top, pulled a sweater from the bag and put it on. It was an ugly thing, brown, with leaves and pumpkins embroidered on it. It was too big, and it disguised her slim body.
“Here,” she said, handing me a small plastic bag of jewelry and makeup. “Put this on, the earrings and all, and do your makeup. Lots of eyeliner, really thick.”
I did as she said, starting with concealing the purplish bruise on my cheek, watching her out of the corner of my eye as I worked. She took a wide headband out of the bag and slid it into her hair so that all the layers were pulled away from her face. Then she added lipstick, exaggerating her mouth’s natural shape.
I focused on my own makeup, doing my best to apply it the way I’d practiced a few times at home for fun. Purple eye shadow, dark liner, several coats of mascara—I stepped back and looked at myself in the mirror.
“Wow,” Prairie said. I hardly looked like myself at all. I guessed that was the point.
Prairie had swept on blush and some eye makeup. With the sweater and headband, she looked like a soccer mom.
“Wow yourself,” I said back. “Um, not your best look.”
Prairie arched an eyebrow at me and then we both burst out laughing.
We were in so much trouble, but laughing felt good. Chub looked at each of us in turn and then he surprised me by pounding his little fist against my leg.
He wasn’t laughing.
Banished Page 13
