by Jarica James
Me: It sounds fun.
Abby: You say that now, just wait until I drag you to one. Then you’ll be subjected to terrible puns and the mother inquisition.
Before I can respond to that, Sophia's footsteps pause and I stop too. Looking up I notice she’s watching me and smiling.
“Did you make a friend today?” she asks enthusiastically. When I grin and nod, she gives me an unexpected hug that I’m not ready for. But I force myself to relax and attempt to hug her back.
“I’m proud of you,” she whispers in my ear before pulling away. Heat creeps into my cheeks at her words. I don’t handle compliments or kind words very well, the rhetoric in my head telling me the opposite most days.
As if she can sense my rising awkwardness, she chuckles and glances around. “I need to check out the beauty store. You mind joining me? That should be just enough time to get what we need then head back to the restaurant.” She waits for my response, so I give my signature nod and I follow as she heads off again.
As soon as we walk in, she claps her hands excitedly. I swear she’s like a kid in a candy store in this place, eyes lighting up as she stares at the displays. It has everything from makeup to hair dye and accessories. The door greeter smiles and hands over a little basket.
“Welcome! Let me know if I can help with anything.”
“I know exactly what I need, but thanks!” Sophia says before rushing for the back of the store. Her basket quickly fills as she spots one thing after another. After what feels like her first lap around the store, I stop trying to keep up.
I’m barely paying attention as I wander aimlessly, until I hit the dye section. They have normal colors, but at the end is a display of rainbow dyes. I’ve always wanted colorful highlights, but my last school was super strict on dress codes and that included unnatural hair colors.
“Do you want to dye your hair?” Sophia asks, startling me. I give a questioning look that she quickly interprets. It’s impressive how rapidly she’s picked up my nuances. “I don’t care, and I doubt Danielle will. It won’t violate school rules either. This school is really laid-back, and their only dress code rules pertain to gym. Speaking of which, we need to hit the sports store for your gym uniforms.” I turn back to the hair colors but quickly give up, realizing I can’t dye my own hair and going to a salon doesn’t sound like my kind of thing.
Sophia’s apparently a mind reader and stops me with a light hand on my shoulder. “I know how to highlight and dye hair if you want the help?” she asks gently. My eyes widen at her offer, and she beams, clearly happy I’m giving her a chance. I really think she braced herself for the worst.
Now that I’m actually picking it out, the decision seems so much harder. Sophia waits patiently while I stare for longer than any person should. Eventually I grab the rose gold; the change is a bit more subtle than I’d pictured but once I saw the color, I was sold.
“Yes! That will look amazing on you!” she gushes before suddenly turning serious, her eyes narrowing at the accessories lining the shelf before she starts throwing a ridiculous amount of supplies into her basket, muttering to herself the whole time. I’ve already learned to just let her do her thing, so I stand back and just watch the chaos to ensue.
“All right, ready,” she announces proudly, struggling under the weight of the basket now. I follow her up to the checkout counter, taking out my wallet but she waves me off. “I got it, I got some of my own stuff too.”
My eyes narrow playfully, but I keep a smile in place. I’m not sure how to handle the attention, especially after the last few years, but I appreciate her. It’s been so long since people have been genuinely nice to me, and not just pity nice, that I don’t know how to handle it.
“Shoot, we have to hurry,” she says, showing me her watch for a split second so I can’t even read it, then rushes out of the store.
Even though she was worried, we step up to the restaurant right in time for our reservations. I’m actually kind of impressed that we managed to waste an entire hour in just one store. Then again I spent three hours in two stores this morning.
The hostess leads us to a table in the back, rattling off the specials as we weave through the busy restaurant. As we sit down, Sophia pulls out a small notebook and pen, sliding them my way. My chest warms at how she doesn’t even flinch, glance at the waitress, or make me feel weird about it, she did it like it was second nature.
“Can I get you guys something to drink?” the waitress asks me, but I just grab the pen and write it down, and then slide it over to Sophia.
“Two sweet teas, please.”
“Coming right up!” the woman says, raising her voice. Sophia bites back a laugh and slides the notebook back to me as she walks away.
‘Thanks for bringing this, it makes it easier,’ I write for Sophia. Her eyes go wide in surprise and she leans forward so only I can hear.
“Why wouldn’t I bring a way for you to communicate?” she asks, sounding genuinely appalled, hand clutching at metaphorical pearls.
‘My other foster families didn’t communicate with me at all aside from telling me what to do. If I didn’t speak to order, I didn’t get to pick or sometimes even get anything,’ I write down and give her a resigned shrug. It’s not an issue anymore, now that I’m here, at least. Her facial expression immediately morphs into anger.
“That’s terrible. You matter, Charlie. I won’t ever do that to you,” she vows in a serious tone, staring into my eyes so I know how much she means it. I feel a tear slip down my cheek before I realize it, the emotion overwhelming me. A mix of hope and relief and grief.
The fact that she actually cares makes the walls I built around myself crack a little. She quickly wipes my tear away and gives my hand a squeeze. This is something I never expected when moving here.
The rest of our meal goes smoothly. She asks me about my interests and my favorite movies and we end up filling out several pages before we finish eating. The restaurant was as good as they both described but spending time with her was also surprisingly nice. As we stand to leave, I feel a strange sense of belonging that I didn’t think I would ever get to experience again and I find myself genuinely happy to be here as we shop for the gym uniforms.
On the ride home I pull out my phone to double check with Abby about dress code. It’s honestly just an excuse to talk to her, but I refuse to think on that too hard. We barely know each other and my trust isn’t exactly the best.
Me: Does the school have any dress code policies on unnatural hair colors?
Abby: Nope! They are really open minded for a high school. Are you dyeing your hair?!
Me: My foster mom is going to dye it for me, we got a rose gold. So nothing too crazy but my old school was strict as hell.
Abby: Send me a picture when it’s done!
Abby has a way of drawing me in, even through text. And it goes beyond just wanting a friendly face at school or being the first person my age to give me the time of day. It’s just her bubbly personality and the way she says what she feels. It’s refreshing.
“Okay, I unfortunately have to make a work call when we get back. But I vote we dye your hair after breakfast tomorrow. Find me a picture of what you are thinking and have it ready if you want a trim, too. I promise I won’t mess it up. I actually was a hair stylist before I decided on law school.” I give her a shocked look, and she laughs. “I did it to afford my own place and so I could make money on the side during law school. Stylist hours are so flexible that it was the perfect way to get through college,” she explains, and it gives me more confidence in her dyeing my hair.
As soon as we get home, I run up to my room. I turn my music on shuffle and use my tablet to find what I want. Despite the excitement I felt when I started searching, I end up falling asleep fast; all the walking and shopping wore me out. It’s the first night in a long time I don’t have a nightmare.
Sunday
Morning
Charlie
‘I’m torn between the highlights or doing it
all one color.’
Sophia looks so serious that I almost have to laugh. She’s intently staring at my hair, occasionally looking down at my inspiration photo. I’m torn, so she’s my tiebreaker. The highlights are nice, but I think all of my hair being dyed would look badass.
“Okay, I think the all over dye is my winner. What is your final decision?” she says in a game show host, cheesy voice. I point to the same one, and she quickly gets to work setting out all we need. “How do you feel about scissors getting involved? This would look best with a light layering.”
I quickly jotted down ‘that sounds perfect!’ and she grins. She runs off to her bedroom down the hall.
The layout downstairs is a bit odd and I got confused the first day or so. The stairs are near the front door, but behind the stairs is a hallway that isn’t easily noticed. To the left is the living room and the kitchen is straight ahead, past the stairs. Her office is in the same small hallway as her bedroom.
I really do love this house, it’s bright and homey. It’s so vastly different from my childhood home that it actually puts me at ease. That thought immediately gives me a harsh pang of guilt that I have to push away.
“Let’s do the haircut on the patio. You haven’t seen the backyard yet anyway. Oh also, I meant to tell you that I have a housekeeper that comes on Sundays to do some deep cleaning around the house. She should be here soon, but she lets herself in and does her thing,” she announces as she bursts back into the room, startling me from my thoughts before quickly ushering me outside, through the garage.
The backyard is gorgeous, though I’m not really shocked at this point. It’s decently big, there’s an inground pool on one side of the yard, and the other has a small garden shed. She keeps a flower garden lining the fence line. The patio is spacious and has a small bar on one side and a large patio set on the other. It has what looks like a retractable canopy for shade or rain. She has it pulled up against the house today since it’s cool and not overly sunny.
“Sit here,” she orders as she pulls out one of the chairs for me. I drop into it and get comfortable, since this is about to be a long process.
My hair hasn’t been cut in three years, and it was long to begin with. It now reaches down to my lower back and the ends are in dire need of a trim. I was blessed with good hair, at least. It isn’t frizzy and has a slight wave to it if I put the right product in. I’m not very talented with curling or styling my hair, so it's a small blessing. I usually just wear it down or in a ponytail.
Sophia goes silent as she trims off a few inches and layers it. She pauses after a long stretch of quiet and asks me if I want bangs. I pull out my phone and find another picture to show her. She nods and pulls my grown out bangs away from the rest of my hair, brushing it to cover my eyes. After combing it through, she starts snipping away until I can see again. Even though she’s not finished, I already feel lighter.
“I’m going to give you bangs that sweep to the side and gently blend into the rest of your hair,” she explains as she works, putting her own spin on the style I’d picked. I’m slowly starting to feel like a brand new person. Maybe Danielle had been right to find me a new foster home. Change can be therapeutic in its own way, even if my inner demons fight me with every shift in mood.
The dyeing process doesn’t take as long as I anticipated, and by the time she rinses it out in the kitchen sink and blow dries it, I’m practically bouncing on my toes to see it.
“Ready to see?” she asks, brushing out one last part before leading me down the hall. She brings me into the guest bathroom and waits expectantly.
I look like an entirely different person, which is exactly what I was going for. The pink tint to my hair complements my skin tone and my blue eyes pop. I give her a happy smile and a thumbs up and she lets out a squeal, clapping her hands. It’s odd to me how genuinely happy she is to simply spend time with me. When I finally pull my eyes away from the mirror, I take out my phone and take a quick selfie for Abby. Her response is instantaneous.
Abby: Look at you! I love it. You’re so pretty!
Me: Thanks, I’m glad it turned out so good.
Abby: I wish my mom would let me do that. She’s a stickler for ‘keeping up my image’
Me: That’s how my mom would have been too. She always said she loved how blonde my hair was.
Abby: It was pretty, but this is even better, Sweets.
Me: Thanks!
“I’ll have dinner ready in an hour if you want to go upstairs and talk to your friend,” Sophia says, looking pointedly at the phone in my hand and smirking. I roll my eyes at her, which only makes her laugh. I head upstairs to get my backpack ready for school.
Even though it was all laid out for me, I was still a bit nervous about my schedule, so I pull it out and glance over it yet again. They put me in all of the usual classes. I have history, algebra, english, biology, gym, and my last class of the day is titled ‘the arts.’ Sophia explained yesterday that it was a mash-up of theater, art, and music. The school wanted to offer well-rounded options. I know nothing about art, but before everything happened, music and theater classes were my favorite. No matter how sad it makes me that I can’t do what I dreamed of, it still makes me happy to be a part of the show. Maybe if things go well I can actually consider joining the stage crew or something.
Which reminds me, I still don’t know how I’m going to get to school, so I want to see if I can help Sophia in the kitchen and bring it up.
When I get downstairs, I jot my question on the notebook so I don’t forget before making my way into the kitchen. She’s so focused that it takes me a second to catch her attention. She stops and gives me a questioning look until I gesture around.
“You want to help?” She sounds surprised before she glances around. “Can you pull the rolls out of the oven and set the table?” she asks as she gets back to stirring something on the stove.
I open a few cabinets until I find the plates and quickly have them on the table with a plate of rolls. Sophia walks in not long after and sets down a huge dish of pasta con broccoli. The smell of it is enough to send my stomach screaming angrily.
Is there anything she’s not good at?
“I can never make a small amount of pasta. If I try and cut it down, I don’t have enough. Every other time I make enough to feed our entire block. So get ready to have leftovers for a few days.” I chuckle to myself, and Sophia almost drops her plate and gives me a startled look. Heat creeps into my cheeks as I realize it’s probably the first time she’s heard me laugh since I’ve been here. I’m not one for openly laughing lately, even the smallest sounds hurt some days, but Sophia somehow brings me out of my shell a little. She also doesn’t make me feel weird about how raspy I sound, so that helps a lot. Nothing like people making fun of every noise I make, making something I’m insecure about, ten times worse.
Realizing she embarrassed me, she shakes herself out of it and starts filling her plate and sits down. A few seconds later she grabs the notebook, apparently noticing my question. “I’ll drive you this week, then at the end of the week we can talk about other options if you don’t want rides anymore,” she says with a shrug. I give her a happy smile that she doesn’t hesitate to return.
Her phone goes off and she starts typing away at it, meaning it’s likely something from work. I don’t mind the quiet, so I open my phone and read a book while I eat, but Abby’s text cuts me off.
Abby: How’s your night going?
Me: Not bad. Eating dinner with my foster mom before going upstairs to freak out about school tomorrow.
Abby: Hey, you’re already ahead of most new girls, you have a friend! I usually hang out with my best guy friends. Adam, Cole, and Trey are cool, though. Don’t worry.
Me: Good point. And I can’t wait to meet them. Hopefully the silence won’t be weird.
Abby: They won’t care.
Sophia’s phone starts ringing and she lets out an annoyed grumble before answering.
“No,
those files are for the Renaldi case!” Her lawyer voice is at full force as she gives me an apologetic smile and runs off. Knowing how long that will likely take, I finish off my food before searching for a container to save the leftovers in, because she wasn’t kidding about the amount of pasta she made. After it’s put away, I turn on music and start in on the dishes. She still doesn’t come out so I jot a note that I wrapped up her plate and put it in the fridge, before heading upstairs.
I’m so anxious I start doing everything I can to distract myself, from picking out outfits then putting them back and trying again, to taking a shower and painting my nails, to pacing for no reason. When I finally try to go to bed, I grab my phone to set an alarm and see another text from Abby. A smile spreads on my face and those butterflies come back.
Abby: Don’t worry too much, they’ll all think you’re amazing, like I do. Goodnight, Sweets.
Settling under my covers, I have every intention of reading until I get tired enough, but somehow fall asleep easily.
Monday
Morning
Charlie
“Have a good day, honey. The office is near the front entrance, so go there first,” Sophia says with a wave before driving off. My gaze follows her car as she leaves, before I take a deep breath and walk inside. As soon as I enter the building I realize how much bigger this school and student body is than my old one. Crowds of chatting students flow by, forcing me to keep moving, which is probably for the best. It cuts out any hesitation I might have had.
The campus has an odd layout. It’s one main building in the middle and off to each side is a smaller building connected by a covered walkway. The other two buildings connect to the school’s gym in the back, forming a diamond shape.
As I walk, I scan the signs over the doors until I spot the office. I enter and hand the secretary my papers, glad she does little more than take it. She looks at it for a moment before giving me a warm smile. Danielle promised me that she made sure my enrollment was finished and indicated that I use sign language to communicate. Maybe that will be easier for the teachers to understand. I’m sure they sent something out to each of them. At least I really hope they did. They’d offered me a translator, but since I can hear fine, I declined.
