Ca.s.sie caught my eye and beckoned me over to her station, where she pinned a cape around my neck. She ran her fingers through my hair, her eyes betraying her concern. "You need to look after your scalp better," she scolded.

"It's not worth it."

"Yes it is. You have lovely hair."

"It's kind of mousy."

"It's blond."

"Dirty blond."

"Strawberry blond. And I have customers who pay a lot of money for this exact shade."

There wasn't much I could say to that, so I sank into the warm leather seat and wondered if the reason everything felt so good was because it was happening on a school afternoon. Which was also when I realized that I didn't feel guilty at all. After eighteen years of doing everything right, Bad Girl Piper was embracing the chance to do something really wrong.

In the mirror I saw Ca.s.sie waving her comb. "So, what do you have in mind?"

The question shouldn't have caught me off guard, but it did. I studied myself in the mirror and tried to think of an appropriate response. "Maybe, um . . . trim the ends?"

Ca.s.sie gawked at me like I'd farted. "Trim the ends?"

"Uh-huh."

Her brows knitted and she continued to stare at me. There was something uncomfortably intense about that look of hers, like she was trying to distill the essence of Piper Vaughan.

"Piper, today I saw a girl stride onto a live TV set to break up a fight, even though she might've gotten hurt. But it turns out that same girl neglects her hair and wears it long enough to hide her face, and her head and neck too. So tell me this: Which one is the real you?"

It seemed like a ridiculous question, but at the same time I knew what she was getting at. "I don't know," I answered honestly. "I think . . . maybe the first one."

Ca.s.sie nodded approvingly. "And what should that version of Piper Vaughan look like?"

Her words made it sound like an innocent role-playing game, but my heart was pumping in a way that a.s.sured me it was so much more. "She should have . . . shorter hair," I said, staring into the mirror, daring myself to disagree.

"How short?"

I swallowed hard, tried to shut down the frightened part of me. "Above the shoulder. Maybe chin length."

Ca.s.sie nodded solemnly, pulled something from the shelf beside her, and handed it to me: the book of color swatches I'd been looking at when I first came in. "What about the color? Dark streaks would go well. Some red would be easy to work in."

I flicked through, let her point out what she meant, but I knew those colors had nothing to do with the Piper Vaughan I was becoming. For good reasons and bad I'd attracted the attention of a whole lot of people recently, and the truth is, it didn't even bother me anymore. I was someone different now, someone new. I was stronger than black, bolder than red. I was . . .

My finger stopped as if it had its own agenda. But when my brain eventually caught up, I knew it spoke for all of me.

Ca.s.sie locked eyes with me. "Are you sure?"

I nodded confidently, and the confidence was genuine.

"What are you thinking-stripes? highlights? bangs?"

"Everything."

"Everything?"

"Everything," I repeated, swallowing as I said it.

"Okay," she said slowly. "But first I have to ask: Are your parents going to track me down and kill me for doing this?"

I nodded. "It's entirely likely."

Ca.s.sie laughed. "Good. I eat conservative middle-cla.s.s suburban couples for breakfast. No offense."

"No offense taken. Actually, it sounds like you've already met them."

Ca.s.sie laughed again, and so did I, and then I realized that my heart was still beating fast, but in a different way-not apprehensively, but excitedly. I was taking charge, and it felt amazing.

"You're excited, huh?" she asked, watching me.

"Yes. Is that silly?"

"Not at all. It's why people come. They say it's about looking smart, or beautiful, or professional, but it's not. Gray-haired ladies try to recapture their former brunette. Brunettes want to go blond. Other women go for colors that don't arise in nature. Each group thinks it's completely different than the others, but I don't see it that way. I've watched them looking at themselves in the mirror, and they're not interested in conforming or rebelling, they just want to walk out of here feeling like themselves again."

I didn't need to say anything more for Ca.s.sie to know she had me pegged; my expression spoke volumes. She patted my shoulder gently and gave me the book of swatches to hold, then turned my chair around so I couldn't see the mirror. While she mixed the dye and began applying it to my hair with a brush, I bade farewell to the old Piper Vaughan, mouthing the words printed on the swatch over and over, like a mantra: Atomic Pink Atomic Pink.

Twenty minutes later Ca.s.sie left me with a head-full of plastic cap, and said she'd be back soon. She didn't exactly give me a ballpark figure for soon soon, but I figured I shouldn't be expecting to make it back to school for last period.

I could have read trashy magazines while I sat there, but I didn't. Instead I turned the chair so I could watch Tash and Kallie. (Ca.s.sie had relegated them to the very back of the salon, where they were less likely to unsettle any paying customers.) Tash frowned with concentration as she applied dye in bold streaks to Kallie's auburn hair, but the pair of them kept giggling so hard that Kallie had trouble staying still.

The dye was a brownish color, but the odor drifting along the salon was peroxide, so I knew Kallie was about to be the recipient of blond streaks. I tried to imagine how she'd look-probably like a black anime character. Color-wise, she wasn't being as adventurous as me, but by having Tash do the job, she was taking a leap of faith beyond anything I could imagine. I worried what would happen if her hair turned out terribly. Would everyone at school laugh, or would they simply wonder what had gotten into Kallie Sims?

Or was that precisely the point? Because no matter how it turned out, this was a way for Kallie to turn her back on all that she was perceived to be: an enigmatic beauty-untouchable, beautiful, flawless. Maybe she could untether herself from that world completely. No more rifling through the designer clothes in last season's bargain bucket. No more struggling to concoct a beauty regimen out of the free samples from cosmetic company reps. Kallie could blend. She could disappear. She was ready for ordinary.

It was close to an hour before Ca.s.sie returned. I was a little fl.u.s.tered by then, partly because I didn't know if/when she'd be returning, but mostly because I needed to know how I looked. Ca.s.sie just smiled and told me to be grateful my hair had started out blond; otherwise she'd have needed to bleach it before applying the pink. And then she tormented me further by turning my chair around again so I couldn't see the mirror as she removed the plastic cap.

"What's the cap for, anyway?" I asked.

Ca.s.sie laughed and knelt down so I could see her. "Nothing. It was just to stop you from sneaking a peek."

Before I could pretend to be annoyed, Ca.s.sie led me over to a basin, where she placed a soft brown towel on my shoulders. Once I'd removed my hearing aids, I leaned back and closed my eyes. She shampooed the gunk out of my hair and ma.s.saged my scalp. The combination of warm water and silence was so blissful that I almost dozed off, but then she turned off the shower and wrapped the towel around my head. She dried my hair and led me back to her station, where she removed the towel like a magician. Which, it turned out, was completely appropriate.

I felt the need to pinch myself. No matter how familiar my face seemed, there was no way on earth that the person before me could be Piper Vaughan. Apart from getting taller and growing b.o.o.bs, Piper Vaughan had remained unchanged for almost a decade. But the girl in the mirror was holding up her middle finger to that person.

I saw Ca.s.sie trying to communicate with me via the mirror, but I couldn't hear a word. I put my hearing aids back in and smiled.

"What do you think?" she asked.

I watched my smile grow into a laugh. "I think it's . . . amazing."

For a moment Ca.s.sie's cool exterior cracked and she seemed to exhale. Then she was back to business, picking up her scissors and snipping away entire waves of hair, while I watched her intently. She resembled a grown-up Tash, but without any of the hang-ups. She was, I realized, easier to like than Tash.

Suddenly she was smiling at me. "Thinking deep thoughts?"

"Oh." I blushed. "I was just thinking about Tash."

I regretted saying it immediately. What if she asked me what I was thinking? But Ca.s.sie was too kind-or too professional-to do that.

"She's changed since you became manager."

I opened my eyes wide. "Really?"

"Yeah. Really." The scissors paused midair. "For two years she's mooned over Will Cooke like he's the center of the universe, and I've told her over and over she just needs to forget about him, move on. I don't know what his deal is, but I do know that his interest in Tash is definitely limited to her guitar playing."

It's not like what she was saying was a secret, but I was afraid that Tash might hear her.

"Don't worry, they can't hear me," said Ca.s.sie, reading my mind again. "Anyway, Tash only joined Dumb to get with Will, but since you took over, she's started talking about the music, and new chords she's learning, and stuff like that. I think she's finally decided the band may be more important than he is."

She resumed snipping from where she'd left off, but her words stayed with me. She was saying I'd made a difference in Tash's life-a positive positive difference. Basically, she was thanking me. And I was so grateful to her for that. difference. Basically, she was thanking me. And I was so grateful to her for that.

It took Ca.s.sie thirty minutes more to reduce my hair to an artful mess, with dagger-like bangs and a don't-mess-with-me vibe. Then she blow-dried my hair in layers for another twenty minutes. I couldn't believe how meticulous she was. The last time I'd used a hairdryer was for the family's Christmas photo almost a year ago.

The new style showcased my hearing aids in all their glory. Only they were no longer Barbie pink, but rather Atomic Pink-not a relic of my former self, but a statement of my new ident.i.ty. I didn't even try to cover them up.

When she was done, I glanced at my watch: 2:10 p.m. The last period of the day, Calculus, would be ending soon. Tomorrow I'd go back to school and pick up right where I left off. I'd still be ahead of almost everyone else in the cla.s.s. The only difference would be my hair, a warning to others never to overlook me again.

I caught Ca.s.sie's eye in the mirror. "You look incredible," she said.

"I know," I a.s.sured her, and it didn't even feel like bragging. "Be honest, though. Do you think I'm going to like this look a year from now?"

She replaced the hairdryer in its holder with the utmost care. "Does it matter?"

I thought about that for a moment. "Well, I guess I don't want to believe that this is just a stage, you know? That next month I'll wake up and say, 'That's not me at all.'"

Ca.s.sie leaned forward like she was about to divulge a secret. "Honestly, one day you will will wake up and say that. And no matter what G.o.dforsaken mess Kallie ends up with today, she will too. And so will Tash, and everyone else who comes in here. But you're worrying about the wrong thing. Don't worry about wanting to change; start worrying when you don't feel like changing anymore. And in the meantime, enjoy every version of yourself you ever meet, because not everybody who discovers their true ident.i.ty likes what they find." wake up and say that. And no matter what G.o.dforsaken mess Kallie ends up with today, she will too. And so will Tash, and everyone else who comes in here. But you're worrying about the wrong thing. Don't worry about wanting to change; start worrying when you don't feel like changing anymore. And in the meantime, enjoy every version of yourself you ever meet, because not everybody who discovers their true ident.i.ty likes what they find."

By the time Ca.s.sie removed my cape and brushed away stray hairs, Tash and Kallie had joined us, and Ca.s.sie didn't need to say a word for us to know what she thought of Tash's effort. Kallie's hair was shorter by a few inches, the cut unkempt and the blond streaks uneven. Yet through it all she smiled like I'd never seen her smile before. All I wanted to do was capture the moment forever: the image of Tash and Kallie, arm in arm; the discovery that Kallie's beauty radiated from a place that had nothing whatever to do with clothes and makeup.

We hugged then, all four of us, and the tears that followed were the happiest of my life.

CHAPTER 39.

I knew the euphoria would end the moment my parents saw me, so I hung out with Tash and Kallie for a couple more hours before driving them home. It was almost dark when I got back, and the front door opened as I pulled up. I honestly believe Mom and Dad would have attacked me as I left the car if it hadn't been so cold outside. I braced myself for their latest offensive.

Instead, entire seconds pa.s.sed while they stared unblinkingly at my hair. If it was supposed to make me feel uncomfortable, it was working really well.

Eventually Mom shook her head, dragging herself out of the trance. "The school called," she trilled. "I'd ask where you've been, but I think that's obvious."

You like it? I signed, even swallowing my fear long enough to produce a wide smile. I signed, even swallowing my fear long enough to produce a wide smile.

"Don't get smart with me. And don't think we're signing right now. I want your dad to hear every word of this conversation."

I snorted. "Oh, that's right. Let's not make the poor hearing people suffer."

"Don't you-" began Mom, but then she stood up straighter and took a calming breath. "Get over yourself, Piper. You're not the victim today."

"And you you are?" are?"

"You skipped an entire afternoon of school! I don't even know what to say to you anymore. Ever since you got in with this band, you're behaving like you're on drugs. Are you on drugs?"

"G.o.d, no," I groaned, wondering how she could be so off-target, so willfully ignorant of what was really going on.

"Well, what other explanation is there? You fight on live television. You skip school. You're rude and obnoxious. You cut off your hair and dye it pink. I mean, didn't you get the message? It's too late to start rebelling in senior year."

"I'm not rebelling," I said calmly.

Mom bristled. "Of course not. It's perfectly rational to want to look trashy-"

"That's enough, Lynn!"

I'd forgotten Dad was there until he spoke, matching Mom's pent-up anger step-for-step.

"No, Ryan, it's not nearly enough. I want answers. For a start, I want to know who gave Piper permission to leave school in the first place, because it sure wasn't me." She swung around to face me, waiting for the answer she knew would establish my guilt once and for all.

I turned away from her and caught a glimpse of my hair in the hallway mirror, short and stylish and so very pink-a haircut with att.i.tude. For a while I'd allowed myself to believe that it reflected the new Piper. But the new Piper still had the same old parents. Had I really expected my life to change?

Dad lifted his hand, ran it through what little hair he had left. "I signed the permission form," he said, eyes cast down.

Mom tilted her head to the side. "You signed it?" signed it?"

Dad nodded apologetically, but he still couldn't meet her eyes.

"How could you sign it after everything that has happened recently? How could you do it without telling me?"

Dad looked up slowly, narrowed his eyes. "I don't recall you consulting with me all the times you've signed Piper's forms."

Silence-the kind you feel like a vacuum, sucking everything out of the atmosphere. Mom stepped back like she'd been slapped. She stared at me, then Dad, then me again, her face betraying the realization that we'd somehow joined forces, that from now on she'd be conducting her interrogation alone.

"I see," she said, her hands unusually still. "I . . . I see." She covered her mouth with her hand, then let it fall to her side again. "I'm tired now," she said, her face suddenly implacable, ghostly.

I waited for Dad to say something, but he didn't, or couldn't-I wasn't sure which.

Mom padded away from us and into her bedroom. I expected her to slam the door, practically willed willed her to, so I'd know she was actually p.i.s.sed as h.e.l.l, that her worn-out sh.e.l.l act was just that-an act. But instead the door gently swung closed, and suddenly I was the one standing in the hallway with my hands by my sides and my heart in tatters. Amazing how quickly a family can fall apart. her to, so I'd know she was actually p.i.s.sed as h.e.l.l, that her worn-out sh.e.l.l act was just that-an act. But instead the door gently swung closed, and suddenly I was the one standing in the hallway with my hands by my sides and my heart in tatters. Amazing how quickly a family can fall apart.

I turned to Dad, knowing that I needed to acknowledge that he'd covered for me, but he'd gone too. At the end of the hallway I saw the telltale strip of light glowing at the bottom of his office door. I walked over, knocked lightly, and let myself in.