Page 91 of Bad For A Weekend

I nod and stand, turning around to see the mirror behind me. Gasping, I touch my blonde curls. It’s been so long since I’ve had my natural color, I forgot what I looked like with it.

“Oh my God.” I thought I was ready for this. Not only do I not look like myself, I also don’t feel like myself.

“Okay, don’t kill me. But I’ve been doing your hair for years now, and I didn’t think you’d mind if I took a few liberties.” She hands me a mirror and turns me back around. “I added some really light pink streaks underneath. They’re so pale, you’ll only catch them in the light and if your hair is up.” She sections off my hair and shows me what she means. “See?”

The slight pink streaks are subtle but seeing them almost has me tearing up. “How did you know?”

“Is this a good cry?” she asks.

“So very good.” I swallow the lump in my throat.

“Yay! I was so nervous I fucked up.”

“Nope. It’s perfect.” I sniffle, trying not to mess up my makeup.

Even if no one ever sees them, I know they’re there, and that gives me enough of my self-identity to hold on to until I want to be brave again.

“How about the makeup?” Krissy, the makeup artist, asks.

“I love it.” Leaning into the mirror, I admire the taupe eyeshadow, the smoked-out wing, and the glittery inner corners she gave me. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

“You’re so welcome.” They hug my sides. “Good luck today.”

“Thanks.”

Once they pack up and leave, I pull out my outfit. I chose a dusty pink dress with a plunging neckline and a tulle skirt to wear underneath my graduation gown. Putting it on, I step in front of my full-length mirror before slipping on the gown and placing the cap on my head.

I don’t know what I expected when I saw everything put together, but whatever it was, it’s not this. Anger courses through me until my fists ball and my jaw clenches. Not having Owen here is destroying everything. He’s consuming all my thoughts, ruining my experiences, and just making me sad.

A knock sounds at my door, and Dad walks in wearing a tailored light brown suit and dusty pink tie to match my dress. His salt and pepper hair is perfectly styled, and the beard he’s growing until he films his next movie has been tamed. He looks every bit the movie star he is.

“Wow,” he says, striding toward me. “Your hair! I didn’t know you were dying it. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you. Not so bad yourself, old man.” I elbow him playfully.

He stares at me some more, his eyes glossing over. “I’m so proud of you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” A small smile is all I can muster.

“What’s wrong? You don’t look happy.”

“I am.” How do I explain myself without lying?

“Brandy said you were upset about the protection.”

“It’s fine. I guess I just pictured today going differently.” There. That’s not a lie.

“I get it, but you know I’m only doing this to keep you safe.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Try not to let it ruin your day, Baylor. You’ve worked so hard. I mean, look at all these honor cords. You should be proud.”

“I won’t, and I am,” I say, vowing not to put a damper on this for him.

He claps his hands. “Okay, the car’s outside, and everyone is ready. Are you?”

“Yep. Let’s do this thing.”

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