Chapter 3

I drove to the only place I could find that was like a drugstore and went inside. I walked along the rows and rows stalling, until I got to the row I was looking for. I went straight to the row filled with thousands of shades and colors of hair dye and examined all the possibilities.

It was exactly what I needed. It was something I wasn't aloud to do with Shar around, and it felt good to know I was one step closer to not being like an Evans. I picked up a color I liked at random, and was about to go pay for it when the sales girl came up to me.

"Tryin' a new look are we?" She asked me, staring at the color I picked. She studied the color, then me. "No offense or anything, but the bleached blond doesn't really suit you."

I cracked a smile. "Thats what I told my sister, before she talked me into it. I'm not really into bright blonds, as much as people think."

"You certainly look like you love the blond, seeing as you have another blond color in your hands."

I looked down at the package I was holding and blushed embarrassed. "Whoops, thanks for catching that or I would have been-well, you know?"

"Blond? Yeah, you would of." I put the blond back on the shelf, picking out another color I liked. She opened her mouth again. "Red? No, no, no, no. Not you. That's' too Drake Bellish for you. Besides, that red would make you look like you dipped your hair in rust."

I picked out another color, seeking her approval. "What about Black?" I asked, showing her the box.

She rolled her eyes. " That's jet black. Everyone who's anyone going 'emo' wants jet-black hair. I think it'd make you look too much like Harry Potter. What about blue?"

"No." I was not going to dye my hair some abnormal color like I was at a freakin pride or something.

She rolled her eyes again. "Jesus, for some gay guy you sure are picky."

"How did you know I was gay?"

"It's called a gaydar, sweetheart. Besides, you were staring at the guy at register five for fifteen minutes straight. She smiled a bit. "You know, with the right amount of shagginess you could pull of black nicely. Better than those stupid emo wannabes, or my stupid cousin. Anyways, I'll ring you up sweetie."

I followed her to her register as she introduced herself. "My names Dani, well, technically it's Diana Rose, but call me that and I'll kill you."

"I'm Ryan." I stuck out my hand to shake hers, but she didn't. "Any who," she began," What brings you here? We don't have many people from out of town."

I told her my situation, and how I was kicked out of my house.

"So, where exactly are you staying? At a boyfriends or something?"

"Something like that, some guy that fucked me last night." I guess he's somewhat of a boyfriend, right?

She let out a laugh. "Oh, Andi? Nah, not boyfriendish. Just good for some gay lovin', if you catch my drift. So, where ya from?" She asked me, smacking her gum.

"Albuquerque."

"For real?" She popped a bubble. "That's where my cousin lives. I'm actually going there this weekend for my little cousin's birthday, turning seven." She said, as she handed me the bag with the dye and a bottle of water. "Though I don't know what the hell to get a seven year old boy. Too bad he wasn't a girl, could of gotten him some doll or something. Do you have any clue what seven year olds want?"

I shrugged. "If it's any help, when I was seven, I wanted tap shoes."

She just laughed. "He's not gay, or interested in dance. He already has himself a 'girlfriend.' You know, the girl he pushes on the swing at recess."

"Yeah, but not all of us are that fortunate with the ladies. I mean, I did have a few 'girlfriends' in elementary school, but nothing big."

"Yeah, sure you did Ry." She laughed. "I'm not talking about girls you went shopping with, or girls you were forced to hang out with, I'm talking about real girlfriends. Anyways," She stretched the word out. "What are some presents that a seven year old boy would like? He's not into basketball, thank God, but other than that he likes sports."

I shrugged and thought back to birthday parties I went to when I was seven, and some of the gifts I got—Well, the ones Shar and I gave. "Um, a baseball bat?" I said, throwing out the first present idea that came to mind.

"That's brilliant Ryan!" She exclaimed, and then turned a little red. "Um, maybe you should get out of line now? I've got other people waiting—but if you want to, you can crash with me, until you get better or whatever. I mean, I know I'm no Andi, but if you'd like to stay-."

I cut her off with my nod agreeing. "I guess, I mean, if you don't mind.."

"No not at all, we can go in just a minute, my boss won't care if I leave early-we never get many customers around this time of day."

"You sure?" I asked, not wanting her to loose her job over me.

"No worries, Ry. My boss lets me leave early all the time; I'm practically family." She explained. "Let me just go tell him."

I've only known her for about an hour and already she's treating me as if we've been friends for years. When she came back five minutes later, she instantly pulled me out of the store. "Where to first, my house to get rid of those hideous shades of blond, or to the mall to get El Spoildo a birthday present?" She stared at my face for a minute, and then decided for me. " You're right, might as well get his crap while we're out."

"..'kay." I followed her out to her car in the parking lot. "Do you think it's safe to leave my car here?"

"Hell yeah, no one's ever touched my car." I looked over at the piece of metal she called her car. "Um, mine's a bit more newer than yours."

"Which one's yours?" She asked, staring into the half empty parking lot. I pointed to the nicest looking car in the lot.

She gave a low whistle, and then looked at my car. "In second thought, we'll both take your car. You drive, and I'll show you the way."

I agreed to that logic, as both of us entered my car. "You buy this?" She asked, feeling the softness of the interior.

"Nope." I cracked a smile. "Birthday present from the parent's, before I came out. My sister has a matching car in pink."

Her eyes went wide" They make cars in pink nowadays?"

"Only for my sister."

"Can anyone say spoiled? Jesus, what do your parents do for a living?"

" Mums an interior designer slash owner of Lava Springs—this club we're members of, and Dad manages some sort of golf course and also owns a portion of the club."

She let out a laugh. "Wow, I wish my mom was that interesting. But no, she just works at this restaurant full time. Nothing glamorous, unlike your parents."

"Believe me, I'd rather have one of them stay home a majority of the time, but they're almost always busy."

"Depressing." She replied as we got to the parking lot of the mall. "So if you're from Albuquerque and your parents own Lava Springs, does that mean you're an Evans?"

"Yeah, and you've heard of my family?"

"Only because I've got family in Albuquerque. Otherwise, I wouldn't know who you were." She walked into some sport store, picking up a baseball bat. It's obvious she didn't know much about baseball, something I'm proud I have knowledge of.

"That one's too big for him, and probably too heavy."

"It is? I thought he'd like it because it was red."

"Color's the last thing you look at in a bat."

"What makes you a baseball genius, mister 'I just freaked out over a pair of designer jeans'?"

"First off, I played baseball until I was ten and I was good at it, it just never had my heart. Secondly, they were black skinny jeans. My sister's anti-jeans for some strange reason, and these were my size. I never get to own anything black that isn't formal wear."

"You've out gayed your self now, buddy." She grinned playfully trying to slap my ass as I jumped away. I fell backwards at my jump, and knocked over some bat, which was the one she insisted her cousin needed. She grabbed it before I could disapprove and paid for it.

"Haha, you loose." She stuck her tongue out at me, as she handed over her purchase.

When she finished paying, she made sure to drag me out of the store, and away from everything designer. She failed when I used a yoga technique to get to a hat store to buy at least one more hat—It was, after all an addiction.

I picked up the cheapest hat that wasn't a baseball cap or winter hat I could find, and paid for it. In a minute flat the tag was ripped off and the hat shoved onto my head. It felt good to have a hat on, even if it didn't match.

Dani rolled her eyes at my hat, but didn't seem to annoyed by it as she instructed me back to her house.


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