In case you were foolish enough to not read the a/n on the last chapter, and therefore don't have any idea what the heck is going on, then you may want to read the beginning of the story.

.net/s/3963004/1/%3Cb%3EAspen%3C_b%3E

Twenty-five chapters later, I still own Aspen, et cetera, and I haven't magically transformed into James Patterson. Therefore, I still don't own Maximum Ride.

Chapter 25: Makeover

"What…"

Robin interrupted me. "Just go with it, okay? I'm getting a haircut." She thought for a moment, then added, "and you are, too." The way she said it left no room for argument.

I sat down on one of the padded chairs apprehensively while Robin went to the front counter. Uncomfortable, I grabbed the top magazine from a towering stack on the table next to me. I thumbed through the glossy pages, only partially seeing the women staring out from them at me. Their flawless curls and sleek locks seemed totally alien to me. My hair had always been short and straight, falling down to my chin. I sighed, putting the magazine aside.

Robin sat next to me, picking up my discarded magazine. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"Well, I was thinking of getting my hair cut to the shoulders and layering it… and maybe bangs, but I don't know… I kind of like the idea of a sleek bob, but that's too short for my liking…"

I stared at her in surprise. How did she know all this stuff? She might as well have been talking in German for all I understood. "Huh?"

Robin laughed. "I stole several hair magazines while I was caged up in the Institute," she explained.

I picked up another magazine, determined to try again. "Where's the hairy mutant freak section?" I wondered aloud. Robin chuckled derisively.

She watched me flounder in agony for a few minutes before I gave up.

I sighed. It'd probably just be easiest to just go with the flow and deal with whatever I was dealt. I continued to look down at the pictures of the smiling girls with the incomprehensible manes. Well, if I didn't like what I ended up with, I'd just cut it again myself. The idea settled me down a bit.

Two women came up to us. They wore black aprons stuffed with combs and scissors. "Are you two Aspen and Robin?" asked the tall blonde sweetly.

"Yeah. I'm Robin, and this is Aspen." Robin gestured toward me in an offhand way.

"Okay. So if you'll follow me, Robin, we'll get started." Robin stood up and followed the lady out of my sight.

The other girl seemed younger, with very short black hair, streaked with purple and blue-green. "So, Aspen, what were you thinking of doing today?" I assumed she was referring to my hair.

"Umm… I don't know… what do you think?" I wasn't going to try and sound as knowledgeable as Robin… I'd end up just making an idiot of myself. Asking her opinion seemed the safest course. I looked over her hair color apprehensively. "But I think I'd like to stick to just a cut… no color," I added as an afterthought.

The girl smiled. "Okay. Just follow me back here, and we'll have a look." She led me to a black leatherish-looking chair, and indicated for me to sit in it. I put my backpack down next to the chair, the grocery bags inside rustling. As I sat down in the forbidding-looking chair, she fastened a smock around my neck. I felt vulnerable with my hands hidden under the black plastic.

She lifted the chair higher and I saw myself staring back at me nervously in the mirror. I quickly composed myself to look calm and relaxed. The girl fingered my hair experimentally. "I think a bob with lots of layers would be nice, don't you?" she asked.

I stared back at her dumbly.

She smiled and dug through a drawer and pulled out a magazine, leafing quickly to a picture. She showed me a girl with shorter, kind of shaggy-looking hair. "Sure, I like it," I said without really deciding if I did or not. I was getting antsy… I wanted to just get out of there as soon as possible.

My chair swiveled around, carrying me with it. I was leaned back so that my head rested in a shiny black sink. I tried to sit back up out of the vulnerable position, but my head was gently pushed back and the sink turned on. My hair was soaked, and strange-smelling shampoo massaged through it.

I was growing steadily more anxious; in this weak and defenseless position, I would be the easiest imaginable target for an enemy. I couldn't see around me, my throat was exposed and totally impossible for me to protect, and a sheet of plastic kept me from being able to use my hands or arms effectively.

After an agonizingly long hair wash, I was able to sit back up again while the lady pulled out her scissors. I closed my eyes tightly, trying not to think of the woman standing behind me with the sharp object. In her advantageous position behind me, it would be all too easy for her to reach around and slit my throat with her scissors.

When she was done cutting, the stylist attacked me with a blow-dryer. The noise bothered me; I couldn't hear anything except the hot air shooting out of the contraption. An attacker could come up behind me and I'd never know. I resisted the instinctive urges to look behind me and see if there was indeed anyone there, and to jump up and run out of there. I held myself to the seat, focusing on watching every movement in my peripheral vision.

"There, honey, you're finished!" declared my attacker, quickly fingering and spraying various kinds of goo into my hair. She spun me around to look in the mirror. I stood up hastily, anxious to get out of the trap of a chair. She kindly unsnapped the smock while I stood frozen in shock. The girl in the mirror… she couldn't be me. Surely it was some kind of trick. I blinked, and so did the stranger in the mirror. Wait… it was me. Those were my red-gold eyes blinking back at me from the mirror. I shook my head, pulling myself away from the mirror.

I hated to admit it, but the reflection kind of scared me. I realized that I'd just lost the last piece of my past; nothing at all about me was the same. I had made a total internal transformation already, but now I didn't even look the same. I was staring at a total stranger. The girl in the mirror wasn't the Aspen I'd known all my life. ...Then who was she? Who was I? Was I even Aspen anymore? I was the very opposite of who I used to be... a mirror image. (Except for the part about everyone hating me. But now everyone hated me more.)

I muttered a "thank you" to the stylist, snatched my grocery-laden backpack, and rushed back to where I could see Robin waiting for me outside.

The bell on the door tinkled with deceitful cheer behind me as I ran out the door. "Never again," Robin said as I met up with her. She obviously had enjoyed getting a makeover as much as I.

A realization dawned on her and she groaned. "Ungh… we still need to buy clothes…" she complained.

I looked up at the darkening sky. "We'd better do it quick; they probably close soon."

We ran into a big-looking department store. It was pretty open, so we were a little more at ease. Nonetheless, we shopped very quickly, simply grabbing two pairs of jeans, a couple t-shirts, and new sweatshirts. We only tried on the essentials, making sure the jeans fit well enough that they wouldn't fall off in flight. We made our purchases hurriedly and almost ran outside.

We shoved the clothes roughly into our backpacks, which were now full nearly to bursting, and walked semi-calmly to the grove of trees we'd landed in earlier. Making sure nobody was looking, we flew up into the branches of a friendly-looking maple. I teetered uncertainly on the limb. I was still tree-retarded. Robin half-stifled a chuckle at my lack of coordination.

I ignored her and pulled a bag of Cheetos out of my backpack. I ate my dinner silently, and spread myself awkwardly across the branches. It was Robin's turn to take first watch.

I closed my eyes, waiting for the nightmares to come; they always did.

WOOT! Next ch after 5 reviews on this story, or if I hit 100 on the original. (I'm only like 8 away! Holy POOP!)