Page 1 of Maid for Her Snow Beast

Chapter One

NEW YEAR, NEW ME

Valiana

I don't recognize the person looking back at me in the mirror. My pin straight black hair is gone. Instead, it falls in waves around my shoulders in long layers with highlights that the stylist calls a balayage.

Except it just looks streaky to me.

The teeny-bopper standing behind my chair tousles my hair so it ripples in the light. "What do you think?"

That I look like a try-hard, pick-me reliving her high school “Asian Baby Girl" phase. "It looks a little lighter than we agreed upon, don't you think?" Instead of the soft caramel look I chose from her many swatches, my hair is various shades of blonde—from spun gold at my root to the ash-silver tips on my ends.

What's worse is there are darker sections of hair in my under layers peeking through giving it a patchy, brindled.

Sigh. That's what I get when I opt to go to the beauty academy rather than fork over hundreds of dollars for the luxe salon my boss uses.

"Oh for sure it's lighter, but this works so much better for the look you're going for. And, if you totally don't dig it, then we can always warm it up."

"And how long will that take?" I ask.

"Oh, just another hour or two. Do you want me to get started mixing more colors?"

It took two days to double process my naturally jet black hair because I couldn't spend an entire day just on my hair. I would be tempted to shave my entire head and opt for wigs if I stay here much longer.

I put on my brightest smile. "Oh no, I was just curious. For the future."

She nods. "I get it. See? Didn't I say that once you start coloring your hair, you won't go back."

You got the "won't go back" part right. "You did say that."

"Do you want me to curl your hair?"

I vigorously shake my head no. "I have to get going to work anyway, so it'll be wasted."

"That makes sense. I'll add a bit of shine serum to protect your ends and we'll be good to go."

I at least let her do that. It's like arguing with my mom. It's easier to just agree with her and do my own thing later rather than try to fight it in the moment.

She rings up my transaction, continuing to gush over my hair with some of the other girls there who heartily agree with her. I give her a tip for which she hugs me, and hands over a bag full of samples. By the time I get into my car, I'm worn out.

I flip down my visor and check myself out in the mirror. In natural light, it doesn't look that bad. I at least don't look as sallow and washed out as I did in the salon's lighting.

Besides, I said I wanted to be unrecognizable, and that's exactly what she delivered.

I gather my hair and finger comb it up into a high ponytail. With a few twists, it becomes a no-nonsense bun balanced on the crown of my head.

I take my planner out of my tote bag and open it up to my vision board page. Pictures of beautiful mountain cabins, forests, and lakes plaster the double page spread. I trace the words "Avalon Vale" and "Welcome to Your New Home" that I painstakingly scrapbooked and mod podged onto the page.

On the back, I have an image of a mason jar with the amounts I've deposited into my savings account for nearly a year written in various ink color.

Soon, I'll have enough for a down payment on a home. Or, at least a security deposit for an apartment. As soon as someone in the Avalon Vale Chamber of Commerce reads my application, they'll accept me, I know it.

“You got this," I tell myself. “Any day now. Work on yourself for yourself.” I repeat the mantras until I start to believe them.

Closing my eyes, I envision my ideal life. I’m idling over a cup of coffee on my own lanai, my journal on a little round bistro table. My view is a panorama of mountains and trees surrounding a lake, and the home I live in is nestled among them.

Welcome home.

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