Blonde Streaks Novels & Stories

I quickly take a shower and change. I put on a black and red tank top (to match my hair. Like Knox having blue tips in his silver hair, I end up having red streaks in my black hair. It's totally wicked! And believe it or not, we were born like that.) and a pair of cut offs and my sneakers. I run a brush through my hair and put it up in a sloppy pony. I'm not impressing anyone, and I really don't give a damn about what I look like this morning. I'm too freaking tired to care!

“Girl… what did you do to your hair?” “What are you talking about?” I asked, seriously confused. Without a word, she shut her locker, grabbed my wrist, and yanked me down the hall. “Where are we—” “The bathroom,” she snapped. We burst into the restroom and she spun me to face the mirror. I gasped. My reflection stared back, but something was off. Way off. “My… my hair. My hair!” Strands of it—no, streaks—were blue. Not bright blue, but electric enough to be impossible to miss. And not the even kind you get from a salon. These streaks looked like they had grown out of me overnight.

*HERON’S POV* Looking at the omega in the sun, her light blonde hair glistened with silver streaks as it swayed with the wind. She had beautiful hair. The type that makes you want to play in it. The windswept golden strands floated delicately in the air, as though an invisible figure was combing through them. “Mikayla, come here,” I beckoned her.

But I haven’t seen many ninth graders with mohawks. It was dyed black with platinum blonde streaks, and stood up two feet from her head. Apparently she changed her hair color as often as most women change their bras, because I’d seen pictures of her with dozens of different variations: red and black, yellow and orange, completely blue, all colors of the rainbow at once, purple and pink, a dozen different shades of green. The funny thing was, besides dying it and spiking it, she didn’t keep up the rest of the hairstyle too well. She currently sported a soft brown fuzz over the rest of her skull, like she couldn’t be bothered to shave it.

She looked amazing, like a true Luna. I smiled at my friend through the mirror, she grinned back as she finished adding curls to my hair. The one black streak curled and hung over my face a little. I sighed, looking at it. Most people thought I dyed that streak, because it was black, or to be rebellious like I was trying to give myself a badass look, but I really didn’t care what they thought. I knew my streak was from my wolf. A little bit of Inanna I got to show the world permanently. It was us and I would never change it.

He sat and she got back to work getting the splinter out of his skull. Then she went into the bathroom and used the box of color on her blond hair. She’d had her hair many colors in the past, all variations of blond. This had been the lightest she’d gone and to be honest, it had been nothing but a pain since she’d bleached it. She’d thought it would make her look better on camera, but it had only ended up washing out her skin tone. Plus, the upkeep was more than she wanted, not to mention how impossible it was to make it look shiny for the cameras. She had multiple bottles of oils she had to use just to keep her ends from breaking.

KATIE’S POV “I want it chestnut brown, you know, the rich kind.“ I said to the hairstylist standing before me. She nodded as she proceeded with my words. She had been shaking since I started speaking to her, and it was getting too much. I was beginning to wonder if she was listening to me. Well, I continued anyway; she had better do what I asked. “I want a blond streak down this side” I ran my hand through the left side of my hair. Tessa Kyle was going to look daring.

Jerry replied with a gentle voice. “I will, thanks,” Sheila responded curtly and the call came to an end. Now Sheila's mind was reeling and her instincts began to tell her things. It was either because she was a supernatural being with supernatural eyes, that was why she could see Hannah's real hair color. Meaning the grey color could be fake, or could it be that it was the golden bronze that was fake? Or, it was a system glitch, network issue, or even a screen hue issue. However, the former made more sense as she was unable to suggest why her hair color was grey and bronze at the same time.

There was no warmth in those exchanges, no sense of kinship, only the acknowledgment of shared obligation. In the bathroom’s stale light, I splashed cold water over my face, willing it to wash away the heaviness. The reflections staring back at me—tired, wary, yet stubbornly holding onto something that resembled hope—offered no comfort, but I refused to look away. I studied my deep brown and golden skin, the way my long, raven-colored curls framed my face, and the intensity of my dark brown eyes. There, in the glass, I noticed a single, slender silver streak woven through my hair, glinting under the harsh fluorescent glow. My eyes, too, seemed to play tricks; for a fleeting moment, I caught

The boys had full heads of hair, it was a pain in the ass to cut it all the time because it fell in their eyes, but it grew like weed on their heads- Kaitlyn’s didn’t, but she had the most beautiful ash-blonde color with caramel highlights that sparkled under the sun.