I didn’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this.
Elodie had cut my hair in a long blunt bob that fell to my shoulders. I’d wondered if the short hair would make me look younger, but I looked more sophisticated. Older, in a good way. Without the length of the hair pulling down, my cheekbones stood out more, and my eyes looked bigger, but somehow more proportional at the same time. I looked like me, but not.
And the color. If pink hair could ever look natural, this looked natural. It was bright—it was incredibly bright. It wasn’t just pink, it was magenta. But all the pink chunks were on the under layer, and Elodie had woven them in so they peeked through the curls on top. At first you only got a glimpse, but if I tossed my hair or turned my head quickly, it was a flash of neon.
“I love it,” I said. “I love it. You’re a genius.”
“I’m going to remember you said that and use it as blackmail,” Elodie said, but she looked pleased.
“I don’t look like me.” I did, but still different enough to walk down the hall at Lakehaven High without anybody recognizing me. “This will work.”
“We’ll have to put you in baggy clothes, probably, make you look bigger, but it’s a start.”
I nodded. “Anything. I’ll do anything.”
Between the hair and the dress, I looked so . . . together. Capable. Confident.
“Thank you,” I said. “I couldn’t have—thank you.”
“You’re not going to hug me, are you?” Elodie took a step back.
I felt a real smile creeping across my face. “I won’t hug you. But thank you. I like it.”
“Well,” she said, opening the bathroom door, “now we’ve wasted half the afternoon, so hopefully it was worth it.”
We headed down the stairs. Colette intercepted us in the hall and clapped her hands excitedly, then took my arm and led me into the living room. “What mischief have you all been up to while we’ve been gone?” Elodie said.
Neither of the boys answered. They peered around her, trying to catch a glimpse of me.
When they did, Jack’s mouth dropped open. I don’t think he’d believed I’d actually do it. Stellan looked just as shocked. All of a sudden, I felt far more self-conscious than I had a minute ago. Colette flipped the ends of my hair, and I chewed my lip. “Do you like it?” I asked Jack.
“Yes! Yes. Absolutely. Looks brilliant,” he said, snapping out of it. “Pink hair, then. That’ll make a good disguise.”
“You don’t like it.”
“Don’t be such an old person,” Elodie said. “She looks fabulous. S, tell her she looks fabulous.”
“Fabulous,” Stellan echoed, but he barely glanced at me as he toed the ground with one boot.
“Well, I like it,” I said with as much confidence as I could muster. This was about being able to leave the house without getting recognized, not about looking pretty. And I did like it.
“You look great,” Jack jumped in again. “I just—it’s so . . . different. I—”
Elodie frowned at him and threw her arm around my shoulders and led me to the front window.
“I hate them,” Elodie whispered in my ear. “I’ve hooked up with both of them, and they were both terrible.”
I hiccuped out an appalled laugh.
Elodie made a face. “Okay, that’s a lie. It’s a complete lie. But I hate them, anyway.”
I glanced over my shoulder. “That was the worst pep talk I’ve ever heard,” I whispered.
“It doesn’t matter what they think,” she said. “Every gay boy in Cannes will want to touch your hair.”
I touched my forehead to her shoulder.
“Too much like a hug,” she said, pulling away. “And now, Lettie,” she said, grabbing Colette’s arm, “it’s our turn. Surveillance time in less than four hours.”
CHAPTER 26
Later, Elodie and Colette were getting ready and Stellan had gone out somewhere. I wandered into the kitchen. I kind of wished we were going after the bracelet tonight. I understood why tomorrow was a better idea, but I was starting to get antsy. At least I had the date with Jack to look forward to. I wondered what we’d do. Idly, I picked up my phone from the counter.
There was a text.
I don’t appreciate you not answering me.
Lydia Saxon.
My whole body went cold. But Lydia didn’t even know about my untraceable phone—or if she did, it wasn’t untraceable anymore.
I started to shout for Jack. We had to get out or the Saxons would find us—had already found us.
And then I saw my phone sitting just where I’d left it earlier, in the sparkling white dining room, on top of my bag.
The phone I was holding wasn’t mine.
It was Jack’s.
I couldn’t help it. I scrolled through his texts. There was a whole series of them.