"No way! Yeah, I'll wear the clothes, I'll work on my attitude, but there
is NO WAY I'll cut my hair!" Rory exploded. It was Saturday morning, and
after a long, grueling study session, Louise was upholding her end of the
bargain.
"Come on. Like I said; if you want to pull this off, you're going to have to trust me."
"How about I think about this and give you an answer Sunday morning?"
"We're going to the Lion's Lair tonight-a bunch of POPULAR Chilton students are gonna be there. It's now or never.
Rory hesitated. Can I at least make a phone call?"
Louise pointed down the hall. Rory slid from the room into the wide, richly furnished corridor. The grandeur of the mansion was incredible. Picking up the ornate telephone, Rory punched in a number hurriedly. When she heard someone pick the other line up, she immediately launched into a tirade.
"THEY WANT ME TO CUT MY HAIR!"
"Hello to you, too, hun," Lorelai's voice chimed.
"I knew I would have to change a few things to get through this, but cutting my hair is way too much."
"Then why don't you just back out of it?"
At the mere mention of backing down, Rory shuddered. "I'd rather get burned alive than admit that Tristan is better than me at anything."
"So you're willing to do all this just to prove to Tristan that you're as strong as him."
"Yes-no. Well when you put it that way, it sounds really childish," Rory whined.
"It would sound childish because it is."
The conversation reminded her of one she'd had with Tristan sophomore year over P. J. Harvey tickets, and she blushed at the memory.
"I just want to know I can do it."
"Are you sure that's why and not that you want to impress Tristan?"
"N-no! Of course not!" Rory stuttered in outrage.
"Uh-huh. Well, you could always deviate from Louise's beauty plan and see where it takes you. And if you lose the bet, well hey, that's too bad."
"Fine, I get it. Look, I have to go now. I have a feeling they're going to send out a search party for me if I don't get back. A person could get lost here!"
Lorelai chuckled. "Bye. Hey, Rory? I just want you to know, you shouldn't do anything you don't want to do."
"I know. I'll see you tonight."
"Alright. Good luck."
Striding back into the room, Rory looked from Louise to the hairdresser who had miraculously appeared in her absence.
"Be kind to my hair," she said meekly, clutching at her chocolate brown tresses.
Snipping his scissors, the hairdresser grinned. "Now worries. Loic iz renowned for his work."
Why is it Frenchmen always refer to themselves in the third person? * Rory thought to herself as they seated her in a velvet-cushioned barber chair. In the corner, Louise and Loic were having an animated discussion, frequently pointing to her. Rory shifted uneasily in her chair.
"Come on. Like I said; if you want to pull this off, you're going to have to trust me."
"How about I think about this and give you an answer Sunday morning?"
"We're going to the Lion's Lair tonight-a bunch of POPULAR Chilton students are gonna be there. It's now or never.
Rory hesitated. Can I at least make a phone call?"
Louise pointed down the hall. Rory slid from the room into the wide, richly furnished corridor. The grandeur of the mansion was incredible. Picking up the ornate telephone, Rory punched in a number hurriedly. When she heard someone pick the other line up, she immediately launched into a tirade.
"THEY WANT ME TO CUT MY HAIR!"
"Hello to you, too, hun," Lorelai's voice chimed.
"I knew I would have to change a few things to get through this, but cutting my hair is way too much."
"Then why don't you just back out of it?"
At the mere mention of backing down, Rory shuddered. "I'd rather get burned alive than admit that Tristan is better than me at anything."
"So you're willing to do all this just to prove to Tristan that you're as strong as him."
"Yes-no. Well when you put it that way, it sounds really childish," Rory whined.
"It would sound childish because it is."
The conversation reminded her of one she'd had with Tristan sophomore year over P. J. Harvey tickets, and she blushed at the memory.
"I just want to know I can do it."
"Are you sure that's why and not that you want to impress Tristan?"
"N-no! Of course not!" Rory stuttered in outrage.
"Uh-huh. Well, you could always deviate from Louise's beauty plan and see where it takes you. And if you lose the bet, well hey, that's too bad."
"Fine, I get it. Look, I have to go now. I have a feeling they're going to send out a search party for me if I don't get back. A person could get lost here!"
Lorelai chuckled. "Bye. Hey, Rory? I just want you to know, you shouldn't do anything you don't want to do."
"I know. I'll see you tonight."
"Alright. Good luck."
Striding back into the room, Rory looked from Louise to the hairdresser who had miraculously appeared in her absence.
"Be kind to my hair," she said meekly, clutching at her chocolate brown tresses.
Snipping his scissors, the hairdresser grinned. "Now worries. Loic iz renowned for his work."
Why is it Frenchmen always refer to themselves in the third person? * Rory thought to herself as they seated her in a velvet-cushioned barber chair. In the corner, Louise and Loic were having an animated discussion, frequently pointing to her. Rory shifted uneasily in her chair.