Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of the characters. You didn't think I actually did, did you?

Beauty and the Geek

Chapter 10- Not Believing Just Quite Yet

My hands shook and my face had shed a layer of color, leaving me more pale than usual. I found myself fidgeting relentlessly, unable to sit still or concentrate on anything for more than a moment. Though I did not allow myself to think of the terrors that would face me in the near future, I could think of nothing else. The entire drive up to Seattle had been a torture chamber for not only me, but Jasper as well. The nervousness seemed to radiate off of my skin and sink into him, spreading my worries to my friend without intention. Never before had someone told me to calm down so many times in one day.

We had left on Saturday in the early hours of the morning. Apparently, Jasper and his mother were morning people. Before the sun had even risen, while I pretended to sleep my friend was dressed and shook me awake. The hour that followed the sunset was hazy to me; all that I could recall was the shakiness that resided in my uneasy body, and the smell of cinnamon rolls. Coffee had been thrust in my hand, and after I had drank it mindlessly, the fog cleared. The two of us sat in the backseat that was overflowing with bags and cases, only two of which were belonging to us. Mrs. Whitlock had not left one tool at home, taking two curling irons either. If her intent was to curl my hair, I planned to sue.

Jasper and I fought his mother for control of the radio-to her disadvantage, there was another dial in the backseat on the backside of the armrest. She surrendered, filling the car with the sounds of Linkin Park and Foo Fighters. Desperately trying to calm my nerves, Jazz tried to strike up conversations over the most random things- such as the origin of plaid, the other possible uses of silly putty, why silly string was invented, and if pizza was truly italian or american. It did not work. We pulled up to the hotel, and the valet took over the Audi.

Having just gotten settled in the room that had a door connecting to Mrs. Whitlock's, I was surprised and horrified to find that our first appointment was in a mere hour. First, we were due at a trendy hair salon, and not knowing how long that would take, the rest of the schedule was unknown to us.

Being back in the car once more, we were headed to the salon, and my hands shook more violently than ever.

"Calm down, will you? You're freaking me out."

"Sorry Jazz."

Not a moment too soon, or too late, we stood in front of the frosted glass doors.

"Well, no time like the present!" Jasper's mother's chipper voice rang through my ears. The present. Right. Suddenly, a memory whisked back into my mind. Many months ago, before Jasper had even decided to move, my science teacher spoke about my lack of a life.

"There are some things more important than the future."

"Like what?"

"Like the present."

We entered the salon, and were instantly greeted by the receptionist.

"Oh, Mary Ann, so good to see you again! Is this your son?" Poor Jasper.

"Yes, this is Jasper. Isn't he handsome?" I found my revenge, and I did not even have to take part in it. All I had to do was watch.

"Mom..." My friend pleaded under his breath. The receptionist smiled and replied.

"Oh, he is darling! And shy, too." Jazz reddened and tilted his head to the floor, much like he had on his first day of school. His shoulders slumped, and slinked back behind my shoulder. Rarely did he hide as much as he was right now. This had gone far enough, I decided. "And who is this, Mary? I thought you only had one son."

"He's not mine, he's a friend of Jasper's. I am just borrowing him." Now I knew what Jazz had to go through when I was not around. Trying to take the glaring spotlight off of his flushed face, I introduced myself.

"Yeah, hi. I'm Edward."

"Well, it's good to have you here, Eddie." Well, my goal was achieved, but I heard Jasper's giggling behind me. I elbowed him and told him to shut it. He didn't. The receptionist smiled and pointed us into the direction of our destination.

Two black, swivelling chairs awaited us. There were a few other empty seats, but what gave them away as ours were the facts that this pair of seats were secluded from the rest, and the mirrors were covered by a black, vinyl blind. Apparently this was common practice. Two hair stylists were standing next to the leather chairs, both with smug grins on their faces. One of them had overly-tanned skin, giving him an orange tint. His streaked blonde hair was gelled into controlled spikes that stuck out above his forehead. The artificial look to him made his electric blue eyes seem so bright that one may think that he was wearing contacts in disbelief that he was happy enough with one part of his appearance to leave them in their natural state.

Shiny black shoes peeked out from the bottom of his blue-faded jeans, which was covered in the front mostly by a black apron that had a sheen underneath the bright lights. The white logo of the studio was printed on the top part of the apron. A white button-down designer shirt was rolled up to his elbows, and had the top two buttons undone, leaving part of his chest exposed. The other man leaned against the wall next to the covered mirror with his arms folded across his chest. He too wore shiny black shoes, but also wore gray skinny jeans and a black button down shirt, rolled up and partially unbuttoned at the top as the other man did. His slick black hair was greased back, and his too-shiny lips formed in a half-grin. Their stances told me that they were not the kind of guys you picked up girls with.

With the utmost flamboyance, they hugged Jasper's mother and twirled her identical blonde hair in their fingers.

"So, Mary, where are our next victims?" If only they knew how literal that was.

"Greg, Andy, this is my son, Jasper, and his friend Edward." Greg, the one with the black hair looked me up and down, making me very uncomfortable. Andy analyzed my friend with his hand on his chin. The pair walked over toward us, and signalled for us to turn in a circle. Though they were only support to mess with our hair, they did a very thorough inspection over the rest of us too. Jasper's cheeks turned from pink to red once again, and seemed to fold up inside himself. I felt bad for him, there was no way that I was bailing him out of this one. We were in the same boat this time.

After what seemed like eons of unease, we were lead to the chairs. Mrs. Whitlock chatted with them about the style she wanted us to have, terms unknown to me flew between them. Names of products and colors and cuts rang through the vacinity, making me dizzy.

Black cloaks were draped over us, and Jasper began to feel my stress.

"Edward, why? Why did they have to cover up the mirrors?" I shrugged and we looked at each other's hair, wishing we were mind-readers. The tangled, twisted, lengthy blonde hair of my friend was even more a mess than usual. Hair hung down half of his neck, ending in a twisted, uneven curl at each strand. I could only imagine what he saw; strangely colored red-brown hair hanging greasy in my eyes, and my cheap new glasses hanging crookedly on my nose. They had their work cut out for them, that was for sure.

"I guess they don't want us to see what we look like until after we're done."

"I guess."

"My mom told you that Esme faxed in your prescription for contact lenses, right?" Esme did what??

"No, she failed to mention that! There is a reason that I do not own contacts, Jazz. I do not want to stick fingers in my eye! It's unnatural!"

"Well, too bad. Esme sent them to our house after we left. Express mail. My mom has them in her purse. She does not want you coming out of here wearing glasses, or me either for that matter."

"Does she piss you off all the time like she does now, or is this a one-time deal?" He gave me a look and rolled his eyes. "Sorry, man."

"Yeah, thanks."

"Okay, Jaspies, let's get these birds evicted and their nests brushed out!" Bird's nests, very funny. Andy had begun by trying to pull his fingers, unsuccessfully, through the blonde hair.

"Um, it's Jasper." He corrected meekly.

"Well, sorry, Jasper. Weird name." Greg came over to me, and looked all around my face.

"Well, let's get started, shall we Eddie?" Why was it so hard to call people by their real names?

"Actually, it's just Edward."

"You too are touchy about your names, aren't you?" I shrugged, and stared at the black shield in front of me. He lifted my hair with his tools, seeming as if he was terrified of touching it. My hair wasn't going to bite him or anything, much as I wanted it to. He led me over to the sink while Jasper cringed in pain as Andy dragged a wire brush through his hair. Poor guy. Never seemed to get a break.

"Ugh, what shampoo do you use?"

"Umm, soap." Greg looked at me strangely at this comment. "I never really cared about it."

"Shocker." He said, to which I rolled my eyes. Greg was starting to get on my nerves.

Shampoo was rubbed and rinsed through my hair, as well as other numerous products. His fingers massaged my scalp, relaxing my nerves for a few minutes. He had taken off my glasses, upon which I closed my eyes. After I opened my lids, Greg had a look of shock on his face.

"What?"

"Nothing, just, your glasses hid your eyes before, that's all." Strange. I had never thought anything of them before. Not as if anyone else cared about them, or even remembered them.

Scissors snipped their way through my hair at a frightening pace as Jasper's hair was soaked in the water as mine had. For once, I was glad for the absence of the mirror; I did not want to see the inches of bronze hair falling to the marble floor.

"Hmm, I wonder..." This worried me. What was he planning to do to my cropped hair now? I had never cared about it before, but I found myself worrying with every snip and comb-through. He pushed the small, rolling table that had foil squares and a bowl of thick mixtures to the side, and reached for the blow dryer. I had guessed that he planned to highlight my hair, and from what I knew he had not planned to dry my hair first. The heated air blew my hair around, warming my newly exposed neck and forehead. He pulled his fingers through my dry hair, weaving waxy product through it.

"Mary, take a look at this. Have you seen this hair color before? I mean, when it was greasy you couldn't tell, but I have never seen anything like it." I knew it was strange, but never thought it monumental.

"Hmm, you're right. Don't put any dye in it, it's beautiful the way it is. Beautiful work, Greg." Thank god for Mary. The less time I spent in this chair, the better. The blow dryer beside me buzzed and hummed as the blonde hair it dried flew this way and that. The blue eyes that I was so familiar with were wide in terror. His hair was cut as mine had been, and his once lopsided locks were orderly and straight. The sleek golden hair that had once stuck up all over the top of his head now hung down above over his ear, giving his shy face a sort of edge to it.

Twisting out of my chair, I found myself standing face-to-face to Mrs. Whitlock. In her hand was a small, white plastic box with two circular clasping lids on top. Contact lenses. Fantastic. She nearly pushed me down into the chair once more, and forced a handheld mirror in my hand.

"Edward, are you near sighted or far sighted?" Mrs. Whitlock asked me.

"Um, near sighted. Why?" She allowed me to look in the mirror, knowing fully well that I could not see well enough to see my hair, only my eyes. Showing me how to put the clear lenses in my eyes while I cringed, I prepared myself to commit the act. After fifty tries of trying to peel open my blinking eyes, success. Whipping the mirror away from my clear sight, Jasper's mother messed up my hair with her hand, and walked away, leaving me with Jasper.

Andy was finished blow drying and was weaving a product that was supposed to make your hair shiny through his hair.

The stylist sighed, and spoke to Jazz.

"Well, there you are. All you have to do in the morning is use the shampoo I told Mary about when you shower, and brush it. Now, get out of here."

Somehow, I thought he might not be kidding. We were unaware of where we were being taken to next, but if it was as eventful as this, I did not think I would be able to survive. The three of us walked out of the salon, and when the receptionist called my name and waved, I caught a foggy glimpse of my reflection in the frosted glass. Someone very different stared back at me, someone who had tousled bronze hair and shocking green eyes. The image was so unclear, that I refused to believe that person in the glass was me. Just a few more days, and I would be back home in Forks, hiding from my classmates. Still, though my parents would be waiting for my return, it felt as if something important was still missing.

The Revolution was on its way to being completed, all we could do now is hope that it would be the Resolution. And, hopefully, the key to the hole in my heart.