Love Forever
“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.
Bab Populer