As we’d been doing makeup, the smell of cooking from the kitchen had begun to permeate the bedroom. I knew it was time for me to head home. I hated to wash the makeup off, but there was no way I could go home done up like that. It was going to be hard enough with my new black hair. Sadly, I wiped off the lipstick and scrubbed my face with soap and water.
I said goodbye to Fern’s mother and brother, stupidly trying to pay close attention to their interaction for traces of incest. Finding none, I kicked myself. Fern and I walked outside onto the front porch. The sun had gone down, but it was still early enough in the evening that my parents shouldn’t freak out too bad that I’d stayed out after school.
“You look amazing,” Fern said. “I’ll call you Friday and I’ll let you know what time we’ll come by on Saturday to pick you up. And we’ll figure out what to wear too,” she grinned. “I swear that red dress will look awesome with your new hair.”
I clutched my shopping bags and smiled. “Thanks for today, Fern.”
“Thank you,” she said. “You know, I’m really glad we met.”
“Me too.”
ELEVEN
When I got home, my parents and Melissa were eating dinner at the kitchen table. I walked in and immediately my mother’s fork clattered to her plate.
“Rachel, what have you done?”
“I dyed my hair,” I said, raising my chin confidently.
Mom, Dad, and Melissa all stared at me. I fearlessly made eye contact with all of them.
“I think it looks pretty,” Melissa said.
“Thank you,” I said, smiling at her.
“What was wrong with your nice brown hair?” Mom asked unhappily. “You looked so pretty before.”
“I think I look pretty now,” I retorted.
“Okay, all right,” my dad stumbled. “I work with kids your age. There are goth kids in some of the classes I teach —”
“It’s not goth!” I interrupted. “You don’t get it.”
I went to my room and slammed the door. I threw my shopping bags on my ugly bed and sat down at my desk. Stupid bedroom. I looked at myself in my mirror. My hair looked awesome. And here I was, in my stupid room, with my stupid family who didn’t understand. I thought of Fern, with her nice mother and her cool bedroom, and felt tears of jealousy prickle my eyes. I lay down on my bed next to the shopping bags and pressed my face into the stupid flowered pillowcase.
Shortly after, there was a knock on my door. I didn’t want anyone to see me crying, so I didn’t respond, but my mother let herself in anyway. I sniffled and glared at her, but she came and sat down beside me.
“I didn’t say you could come in.”
She ignored me. “Rachel, we have to talk.”
“I don’t want to talk. I have nothing to say,” I said, muffled through the pillow.
“Well then, just listen to me. You have to be able to understand that your dad and I are very confused when you come home with your hair dyed black and when you listen to that music.”
“Just because you don’t like it doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”
“You’re right. And I realize that you are trying to express yourself, and you’re growing up. You have to be able to make some of your own decisions. Your father and I have to trust in you to do that.” She paused, reached out, and stroked my leg. “We have to try to understand where you’re coming from, and you have to try to understand where we’re coming from. You were right the other night. Your father and I raised you with good values. You’re fifteen, and you’re going to start making your own decisions.”
“Yeah,” I said.
“The last thing I want to do here is make you feel as though you can’t come to us, because you’re afraid we’re going to judge you.”
“It’s just some stupid hair dye.”
Mom was quiet for a minute. “It just seems to us like things are happening very quickly. You’re going to parties, making new friends, going to a concert, and now dying your hair. Can you see that these things are going to take some getting used to for your father and me?”
“I guess.”
“And can you also understand that you’re a part of this family, and that you have to communicate with us? Be home when you say you’re going to, play by the rules?”