Blonde: A Novel Mga Nobela at Kwento

“Why the fuck would I want to lick anyone’s shoes?” A beat of stunned silence followed. Then a voice—cool and amused—cut through the tension. “That’s true. That would be disgusting.” I turned toward the voice, expecting another one of Priscilla’s minions. But what I saw made my eyebrows lift slightly. Another blonde. Of course. Because apparently, blonde girls here came in packs like feral poodles. She was stunning, in a cold, untouchable way. Her hair was like liquid gold, perfectly styled into soft waves that framed her flawless face.

A redhead that’s not hot as hell, gets her hair colour from a bottle as well. But this is not fake. This is her hair colour for real. Blonde with a ‘dangerous’ shade of red. But even if it is not from a bottle, she absolutely has to contain herself. Behave. Keep control, even if her body is on sudden a pace of it’s own! This is a farm. They are part of a small community. Here is no place for one-night stands or short-lived affairs. And what’s more. There is absolutely no use to fall head over heal again for the wrong man again.

Happy asked, and Snow placed her hand on her forehead. “Something... someone is in danger,” she muttered. Her head hurt. The voice had returned whispering thoughts into her mind. They were too loud, too much to comprehend. Something wasn’t right. She had seen something she shouldn’t have. It was a blonde. There was a sword made of wolfsbane in her hand, and she had slashed through a female werewolf’s gut. The girl was curled up on the ground in pain. “You can’t save them. You can’t save her. You can’t save anyone,” the blonde muttered. She moved fast, and in a blink, she was standing in front of Snow, plunging the sword into her chest.

Isla groaned, visibly enraged. They were even more mad than I was. I loved my girls. “No, there was proof,” I went ahead to tell them about the phone call. “That crazy bitch!” Ivy growled. “I need to find her and pull off her hair. What color is it?” “Blonde,” I replied. “Oh, it just had to be blonde. They are the dumbest.” “But you are blonde,” Isla looked at her in shock. “I know, but...” she trailed off and glanced at the hair falling over her shoulders as if she didn’t know the color before. “Oh, shoot. I don’t mean all blondes. Some.”

She finishes the second book in September. Three and a half years from the six pages in the thirteenth notebook to the final chapter, which she writes in a single sitting on a Saturday morning when the twins are at Rosa's and Clara is at school and Ethan is at the Cole Partners office and the Gràcia apartment is, briefly, entirely hers. The book is called The Brief for the Second Life: How Real Things Move Between People.

"Except for Hobbs. And I already know what we're doing for you." "What?" "I'm thinking...blonde!" Jovie's POV "Blonde?" Reno asked. "I don't think so!" "Your hair has grown so much, and you will look so good with blonde hair, I promise." I said. "And...I think it would be kinda sexy." Reno sighed. "Really?" "Yeah, and don't go full blonde, just honey blonde with a little ombre." "I don't even know what the hell that means." "You'll see."

***** We walk in to library and find Stacy just where she was yesterday. She does look quite different with her hair becoming blonde but still white. Some kind of weird change though but I did ignore it. "Welcome back Alpha and Luna How was your night?" She asks showing courtesy. "Good. We came just like you said we should." Jay says. "Wonderful. " She gasps. "Stacey, why is your hair turning blonde?" I couldn't help but ask. The mixture of two colours on her hair is off and obviously she didn't try to use dye.

Annabelle suggested with a sly smile. I glanced at her, half-expecting her to laugh and take it back, but she only raised an eyebrow, daring me to go for it. The stylist nodded enthusiastically. “Blonde would be stunning on you. Something sleek and modern to bring out your features.” I hesitated, chewing on the inside of my cheek. Blonde was… drastic. But then again, why not? “Let’s do it,” I said, surprising even myself. Annabelle’s eyes widened as the stylist started sectioning my hair. “You’re really going blonde?” she asked, her tone teetering between genuine surprise and something else I couldn’t quite place.

He should love you as you are, Skinny said a lifetime ago. She shook her head. Squeezed her eyes closed. “No, no, no.” Gripped and sawed her hair. “He doesn’t. He wanted brown.” Pulled and parted and sliced. “He chose brown.” Chopped the platinum free, letting it fall to her shoulders. “That’s an answer right there. Brown not blonde.” Hair fluttered to land at her knees, peroxide strands littering the stranger’s wide knees and pudgy feet. Soon her palm raced over a bare scalp, fingertips discovering jagged and peeling nicks she never felt. Slick, bleeding cuts she failed to notice. The blade returned, the spit in her hand wetting the remaining tufts as she shaved close.

The symbols on the page morph and transform into readable words before my eyes. Running my fingers over the page a long, thin, blonde strand of hair catches under my fingers. Between my forefinger and my thumb I grasp ahold of the strand of hair and hold it up to the light. The blonde shimmers slightly in the dim light of the library. I have only seen hair this color twice before. “Please belong to Lilith,” I mumble to myself. Just then a knock on the wall behind me startles me. I quickly place the hair back between the pages of the book and slam the cover shut. “What was that?” Erebus asks curiously as he lays his head on my shoulder and wraps his arms around my waist.