PAR•A•li•a•tion: n. beyond the average humiliation I stare in the mirror, trying to ignore the nervous pattering of my heart. The strip turned out more electric blue than I thought it would. Plus it covers a larger section than I had intended. I could tell it was bad when even Laila’s eyes got wide after we dried and straightened my hair.
Laila fluffs it. “Maybe you should wear it curly after all. Straightened probably brings it out more.”
“No,” I insist. “Rebellion requires commitment.”
“I think it looks hot,” Duke says. “But that’s just coming from the guy who hopes to play another role in your rebellion.”
Laila looks between us. “What?”
“Nothing,” I say. “I’d better get home.”
“Hey, Duke, can you take her? I need to check on my dad.”
I throw Laila a look, but she sings, “Thanks” as she runs out of the bathroom and disappears down the hall.
Duke laughs. “I should be the one thanking her.”
“I’m kicking her butt tomorrow. Come on, let’s go.” We walk out the door and Duke says, “I’d put my money on her in a fight.”
I gasp and backhand him across the stomach. Then I blush when I realize that counts as flirting in Laila’s Flirting 101 crash course she’s tried to give me many times over the years. “Sorry,” I say, shoving my hand in my pocket.
“It didn’t hurt.”
When we get in the car, Duke turns up the radio to just short of unbearable and proceeds to talk above it the entire ride, about football and how small his meditation cubicle is and how his mom makes the best peach pie that I should try and on and on. I’m glad I don’t have to try to fill the silence.
“This is me.” I point out my house that seems so small and plain with Duke looking at it. He lives on the edge of town with all the other large houses. He pulls over. “Thanks.” I start to get out.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you? Your mom probably wouldn’t yell quite as loud with a witness.”
I do not want him to come inside. “We can’t lay it on her all at once. The hair is first. The boy is second.” I have no clue why I said that.
He nods. “All right. Well, good luck. I’ll see you tomorrow.” His stare is so intense, I feel like he can see right through me.
I put my hand on the center console, inches from where his rests. “Do you like to read?”
“Read?”
“You know, download a book onto your tablet and read it … for fun.”
“Not really.”
I raise my eyebrows. “See you tomorrow.” I hop out of the car.
“We’re like magnets, Addie,” he calls after me.
I laugh. He does make me laugh. I sigh and walk into the house.
“Addie, where have you been?” my mom asks from the kitchen.
I take a deep breath and pat my hair for a moment, tempted to run to my bedroom and grab a hat. I remind myself that rebellion takes commitment.
“Addie?” my mom calls again. “Are you going to answer me? Where have you been?”
“Just at Laila’s house.”
“I wish you would’ve called. I made dinner.” From the smell of it, she burned dinner.
“I already ate.” I walk into the kitchen and grab a water bottle from the fridge, trying to act casual. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my mom gaping.
“What did you do to your hair?” Her voice is low and angry.
My commitment falters. “It comes out. Twenty-one washes.” That’s not what I intended to say. The plan was to put my hand on my hip and say, “It’s my hair. I can do what I want with it.” That’s what brave, angsty teenagers say after they do something rebellious. But I’m pretty sure those teenagers didn’t ever have to answer to someone like my mother. I’m also sure I’m neither brave nor angsty.
“Addie, seriously?”
“What’s the big deal?” Again, it is supposed to sound punkish, but I sound scared.
“Go away from me. I don’t want to look at you again until your twenty-one wash cycle is complete.”
I start to walk to my room.
“Oh, and no one else gets to look at you outside of school until then as well. You’re grounded for as long as it takes to wash it out.”
Could she be any more controlling? “No wonder Dad left.” It’s the first thing I say that actually sounds how I want it to and the only thing I instantly regret. I don’t have to look back to know I hurt her with the words. The lights in my room come on as I enter, and I sink onto my bed with a sigh of frustration.
My cell phone rings with a number I don’t recognize. “Hello?”
“How’d it go?” Duke is on the other end.
I stand up and part the drapes covering my window, wondering how he timed his call so perfectly. Did he see my bedroom lights go on? The street is empty. “How did you get this number?”
“I made a few calls, but eventually found Laila’s number. Then she gave me yours. I figured it wouldn’t be a big deal since you were already kicking her butt.”
“Are you a stalker? Because I’m not really into stalkers.”
He laughs. “So, how’d it go?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, a dull ache starting behind my eyes. “Perfect, actually. Just like I thought it would.”
“What movie is she taking you to?”
I collapse back onto my bed. “Um, we’re not quite that far into the reaction process yet.”
“I see.”
My mom knocks on my door and it slides open. “They can’t hear your voice either. Off the phone,” she says, and then leaves.
“What did she say?”
“Yeah, grounded.”
He laughs really loud for a long time.
“Hanging up now.”
“So much for the typical reaction.”
“Yes. It’s so funny. Bye.” I hang up and then stare at my phone for a few minutes before going into Recent Calls. I find the last number listed under Received and enter it into my contacts with his name. I feel a slight thrill. Girls would kill to have Duke’s cell phone number, and I just got it without even asking. He had actually searched mine out. I’m beyond flattered. But then I remind myself that Duke and I are incompatible. He loves to be the center of attention. I hate it. He is the king of the school. I do not want to be the queen.
I sit in my car longer than normal the next morning, waiting for Laila. Since I lost my phone privileges, she has no idea I’m grounded. The clock on my dash tells me I have five minutes to get to class. Did I really expect her to be on time? I get out of my car.
“So when does phase two commence?” Duke asks, catching up to me in the hall.
“Phase two?”
“Sneaking out from your prison sentence and hanging with the bad boy.”
“You know, I’m actually a good girl. For the most part I do what I’m told.” I’m not necessarily happy about it, but I do it.
“Only because you’ve been forced to live with a lie detector. Your dad is gone now. Time to hone your skills.”
My dad is gone now. I haven’t gotten used to that thought. “Wow, you really are trying to fulfill the role of the guy who’s not good for me.”
“Yes, it needs to be authentic, right?”
I stop in the middle of the hall. It’s time to end this. He takes two more steps before he notices, then turns. “What?”
“Duke, I can’t do this.”
He bites his lip. “Really?”
My heart flutters a little, seeming to disagree with my statement. I scold it for its betrayal.
“This isn’t a marriage proposal, Addie. Just a date. We don’t even have to call it a date.”
I have obviously hesitated for way too long because he grabs my hand and leads me toward class. I sigh and pick up my speed. “Duke, I’m grounded.” We round a row of lockers, and I’m forced to stop in shock. His hold on my hand jerks it forward once before he stops as well.
“What’s that?” I ask. In front of us, where the library used to be, is now just the blue sky and floating red letters that spell out: “Give him a chance.”
“So, what do you say, Addie?” he asks, turning to face me completely, the letters at his back. “Will you give me a chance?”
“Make them stop.” I look around, searching for the Perceptive who’s creating the illusion, but it could be anybody. It’s not like we wear name tags announcing our abilities. People are piling up where the door of the building should be, looking for a way in. My face is getting hotter by the second. “Duke, seriously don’t. Tell whoever is doing that to stop.”
He’s holding my hand with both of his now and he has his standard charming face on. “Say you’ll go out with me.”
I look back at the floating letters. The bell rings, and I jump. “Fine.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Really. Now have the building put back.”
He points to someone over my shoulder and gives the thumbs-up sign. Slowly, the letters fade and the red bricks of the library come into view. It takes my face a little longer to return to normal temperature.
He squeezes my hand, then lets go. “I’ll pick you up on the corner of your street Friday at ten.”
“Don’t you have a game Friday?”
“Yes, but it’s a home game. I’ll be done by ten. And I’m always in a good mood after we win.”
“And if you lose?”
“I don’t lose.” He smiles. “Okay, I’m going to disappear until Friday so you can’t change your mind.”
I rub my arms as I watch him retreat. So much for my resolve.