Summer Alone (Summer #1) (2 page)

Aunt Truly answers the phone with a sneeze. She isn’t my aunt, but I’ve known her as long as I’ve known Bayleigh, so I get exclusive best friend rights to call her that. “Bless you!” I say with a laugh.

“Excuse me, I’m so sorry,” Aunt Truly says, giggling. “I shouldn’t be dusting and answering the phone. Truly’s Hair Salon, how can I help you?”

“It’s Becca,” I say, digging through the cash in my mason jar. I take out the bills and flatten them in my lap. “Do you have any appointments today? I want to get my hair highlighted.”

“Finally let Bayleigh talk you into it? This should be fun.” I hear some shuffling on the line and I imagine her hopping off the stepstool, duster in hand, as she walks over to the appointment book on the front desk of her salon. “I’m pretty booked up today but if you get here in ten minutes I could get started on it. If you don’t mind me stopping to give Mrs. Pearson’s triplets their monthly buzz cut while the color sets.”

“Sounds good to me.” I fold the stack of bills, mostly ones, in half and shove it in my back pocket. “See you in a minute!”

I slip on my flip flops, grab my phone and keys and dash out into the living room. Excitement flows through me but right when I see Mom give me a curious glance from the couch, I stop and realize what I am about to do. I haven’t even had much time to think about the change I’m about to make to my hair. And I know very well it’s not just a chemical color change to some strands of hair—it’s step one of my summer transformation. It’s changing my look to something fun and flirty. It’s making me into an entirely different person. Someone who just might have the confidence to talk to guys this summer without my best friend there to break the ice first.

“I’m getting my hair done now,” I say, a little breathless from all the rushing. “She had an open spot but only if I get there really fast.”

“Drive safe,” Mom says. “Is Bayleigh meeting you there?”

“Oh, about that,” I say, grabbing a bottled water from the refrigerator. I tell her about Bayleigh’s being grounded and shipped away to the hill country for the summer.

“That’s too bad,” Mom says. “Guess you’ll have to spend the summer with your awesome mother!” She sticks her tongue out and I roll my eyes at her.

She has a point, I think as I drive the few blocks south to the Lawson shopping center where Truly’s Hair Salon is on the corner. Without Bayleigh in town this summer, I probably
will
spend most of my time with my mother. And when Dad’s off work he’ll want to take us out to the movies or to dinner so I’m already guaranteed to spend one night a week doing family stuff. There won’t be anyone to invite me to parties or to come spend the night, or to join me at the mall. No one but my mother.

My heartbeat quickens as I pull into the parking lot. I know I’m supposed to take charge of my destiny and become the person I want to be, but I’m not really sure I can do that without Bayleigh. Maybe this breaking out of my shell thing will require a lot more effort than I originally planned.

The door chimes when I enter the salon and I smile at Truly’s daughter as I walk up to the front desk. But she doesn’t smile back because she doesn’t see me over the very serious text conversation she’s having with her phone. Her name is Julia and she’s a sophomore but I don’t think I’ve ever seen her at school. I only know her from the times I’ve come here with Bayleigh to get her hair done. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Julia without her phone.

“Good morning Becca!” Aunt Truly appears from the back room, slipping an apron over her head and tying it around her waist. She puts her hand on the back of one of the salon chairs. “Ready to get fried?”

“Huh?” I climb into the chair and she pumps the foot pedal that rises me higher.

“Just kidding, hun. You have fresh beautiful hair. I won’t fry it too much.” Her hands flow through my hair, inspecting it. I watch her through the mirror in front of me. “So, what do we want? Chunky or thin? Just up top or all over?”

“Um, thin I guess.” Thick highlights might be so dramatic of a change that my poor mother would fall over dead at the sight of me.

“Perfect choice,” Aunt Truly says. “You have all these layers around your face so I think thin wisps of highlights and lowlights would really do wonders for you.”

I shrug since I don’t know much of anything about hair styles or dyes. “Just do what you think is best,” I say.

Soon my hair is covered in folded over pieces of aluminum foil and the chemical smell of bleach is so strong, I’m worried my nose hairs have been burnt off just from breathing. Julia still hasn’t said a word, or even looked away from her phone in all the time I’ve been there. I can’t help but think of Bayleigh and how she’s probably going completely insane without her phone. I wish I could tell her about my new hair style but now I can’t even email her a picture of it since her grandparents don’t have the internet. Or a computer for that matter.

“It’s a shame Bayleigh had to miss out on this,” Aunt Truly says, clucking her tongue. “She’s been begging you to get your hair done forever.”

I laugh. “Tell me about it. I finally decide to take the plunge and she’s grounded. Did you hear about that?” I glance up at her in the mirror and she nods, her eyebrows lifted high.

“Oh her mama told me all about it. She called me so freaking pissed off I thought she was going to have an aneurysm right there on the phone.”

“What did she do to get grounded?” I ask. Truly lifts a piece of the foil and peeks at the hair inside before frowning and folding it back over. She sighs. “I’ll let Bayleigh tell you the details when she gets back. But it was about that boy.” She shakes her head and I know right away that she’s talking about Ian.

“Ah,” I say with a nod. I can’t even imagine what could have happened between them that got her grounded for an entire summer—actually, I don’t want to imagine it.

“That boy is a bad influence and a piece of garbage, if you ask me,” she says, letting out a long sigh. “Of course, no one ever asks me. Bayleigh doesn’t want my advice. She’s going to do what she wants to do.” Her lips form a thin smile and she peers at me in the mirror. “I’m glad that she has you, hun. You’re a good friend and a good person.”

“Thanks,” I say, not really sure how to react to the comment that’s both a compliment to me and an insult about my best friend. I decide to get the subject away from Ian. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without her this summer. She’s practically my only friend.”

“Have you thought about getting a summer job?” Truly glances back toward her daughter and raises her voice. “I’m about to need a new assistant if my current one doesn’t get off her ass and sweep some hair.”

Julia looks up at his, rolls her eyes and pockets her phone. She grabs a broom and begins sweeping the leftover hair clippings from the chair next to mine. Truly points out a spot she missed and then turns toward me. “I pay minimum wage,” she says with a smile. “Just say the word and I’ll be happy to fire my current assistant.”

“
Mommm,” Julia whines as she sweeps. “That’s not funny.”

When my hair has “fried” for the correct amount of time, Aunt Truly begins taking out the foil one by one. I can’t bring myself to look in the mirror yet. I’m scared and anxious and happy and freaked out all at the same time. So I stare at my hands in my lap and think about Truly’s suggestion from earlier. Obviously I’d never take Julia’s job from her, but getting another job for the summer might be kind of fun. I could meet new people and get out of my comfort zone a little. Plus, the horde of birthday cash I’d saved up in my mason jar is running dangerously low. A job would mean extra spending money to aid in the reinvention of myself. After all, I’m pretty sure Mom won’t pay for all the replacement clothes my wardrobe now needs since I threw out most of my clothing this morning.

Plus, the greatest benefit of all—I wouldn’t have to spend the summer with my mother.

“Do you know any other places that are hiring this summer?” I ask. I’m still looking into my lap and my head jerks left and right and up and back as Truly takes out all of the pieces of foil.

“Not sure, hun,” she says as she works. “This is a big shopping center though. I bet you could find a place here that’s hiring.”

“I see help wanted signs all the time,” Julia says while staring at her phone. I’d almost forgotten she was here. “Just walk down the strip and look at the windows. That’s where they hang the signs.”

“Thanks, that’s a good idea.” My heart flickers with that nervous excitement I’d had the moment I stepped into the salon today. As soon as my hair is done, I’m going to look for a job. With any luck, all the forced social interaction will help me become more outgoing when I get back to school. Maybe I’ll be able to talk to people without first reciting what I’m going to say over and over in my head.

Truly washes and rinses my hair, then takes a blow dryer to it for a while. I daydream the whole time about my potential future job. I decide I don’t want something in food service because I’d rather not smell like pizza or cheeseburgers all day, and I also don’t want something that’s outdoors, like the snow cone kiosk, because then I’d get wickedly awful tan lines.

“You’re all done!” Truly sings.

I look up to the mirror and check out my new hair. The normal chestnut brown strands along my face now have strands of blonde filtering through them. It’s really pretty. And it’s even better than I had imagined because it didn’t change me. I’m still me. I just have a fancy new hair color.

“Thank you, Aunt Truly. It looks really good.”

Julia looks up from her phone. “You look hot.”

“Thanks,” I say. I wasn’t exactly going for hot, I don’t think. I just wanted something different, something new. Something that says
this isn’t the old Becca you’re used to
.

But hot is never a bad thing. I’ll take hot.

My hair smells like fancy salon shampoo as it swishes while I walk. Truly’s is the first shop in a long strand of shops that used to be called Lawson Outlet Mall, but is now called the Lawson Outdoor Mall, because I guess there was no longer enough outlet stores to qualify it as a discount place to shop. Most people call it the LOM, like
lawn
only with an m at the end. It’s actually the opposite of discount stores now. Half of the stores are designer brands and places with employees who wear full tuxedos to work. And there’s random places which I would never shop. But if you look past the weird stores you’ll find the occasional gem, like a jewelry boutique that only sells things handmade from recycled items. Or the Forever21 which is my favorite clothing store and the pretzel shop that sells fresh baked pretzel deliciousness.

I walk slowly down the sidewalks, carefully checking each store window for signs that indicate they might be hiring students for the summer. But the only places I notice with Now Hiring signs are a few fast food joints (and not the good ones like the pretzel shop) and the Gucci store. I know right away that I won’t qualify to work there since I know absolutely nothing about high end fashion, so I don’t bother asking for an application. I also skip past the fast food places and hope that with the last few shops left in the strand, there will be somewhere that’s decent and is also hiring. If I don’t find a job at LOM, I’m not sure where else I’d look that would be a fun place to work. Definitely not a grocery store. Scanning groceries all day long would be the most boring way to spend a summer. Is it too crazy to want a job that’s fun?

My nose crinkles as I walk by a hotdog kiosk in the middle of the sidewalk. An index card is taped to the front of the kiosk and HIRING PART TIME is written in marker on it. Um…I think I’ll pass.

My hair is silky smooth and absolutely beautiful when I stare at my reflection in the floor to ceiling store windows as I walk. I know it’s tacky and self-absorbed to be this vain, but I can’t help it—I glance at my hair in every single shiny glass window I find. It’s so beautiful and I am so glad I made this decision. My self-esteem has already risen about five million points since I stepped out of the salon.

“On your left!” The unexpected voice makes me jump. I stop still on the sidewalk as a kid on a bicycle speeds past me and swerves around the older couple walking ahead of me. A few seconds later, his two friends who are probably around twelve-years-old zoom past me on the left, following him. Freaking jerks. Sidewalks are meant for walking, not almost crashing into strangers.

I roll my eyes as they bike away, pedaling up and down on their way to the biggest store at the end of the street. It’s not really a store at all, and I’ve never been inside of it.

C&C BMX Park – Indoor Bicycle Motocross. All I know about the place is that guys in our school used to have birthday parties there back when we were elementary and junior high. I think it’s like on the X-Games, where people ride small bicycles up ramps and half-pipes and do tricks, only this entire place is indoors since the Texas heat gets pretty awful in the summer time.

When I approach the end of the shopping stores, I stop and stare up at the C&C BMX sign. It’s lime green with splashes of orange and it lights up at night. You can see it from the road. I guess I never gave it much thought because it felt like such a scary sport that I was never interested in.

A woman who is probably in her twenties walks up from the opposite side of the street. She wears cropped black leggings and a grey tank top that has big cut outs in it that reveals her hot pink sports bra. She has knee pads and elbow pads and a helmet dangling off the handlebars of her hot pink bicycle. She looks like a total badass. The automatic glass doors slide open and she walks inside, pushing her bike. Now
that’s
a girl with an awesome life. I bet no one has ever called her lame. Her best friend probably wishes she was her instead of the other way around.

I stand just outside the doors and look inside the massive building. There’s all kinds of wooden ramps and graffiti on the walls. Music blasts through speakers and BMX riders pop up on one part of the track and the swoop down a ramp until they’re out of sight. I watch the girl sign in at the front desk, hop on her bike and pedal off into the distance.

For the smallest of seconds, I
almost
consider the idea of
maybe
getting myself a BMX bike. But…no. I sigh and my shoulders fall. There is no way I could be a BMX girl. I barely know how to ride a regular mountain bike, much less one of those small BMX bikes. Plus I’m sure it’s expensive. And with my zero job options at the moment, there’s no way I can afford it.

I kick at a tiny weed growing up in between the cracks of the sidewalk. I guess I could start walking back toward where I parked by Truly’s and make a mental list of all the places that are hiring. Maybe fast food wouldn’t be so bad, I think. But it’s no use to try and lie to myself like that. Fast food would suck.

I roll my eyes and tell myself that I’m being super lame and super dorky right now. I’m not doing my hair any favors by standing here alone, like a weirdo, staring up longingly at a place that I totally don’t belong. Speaking of my hair, I glance at my reflection in the glass of C&C, hoping to get a pick-me-up from seeing my awesome follicle reflection for the millionth time.

Only I don’t see my hair, not at first.

I see a black dry erase board that’s decorated from top to bottom in neon colored markers. Squiggles and swirls and dots and zig zags, all focused around the words written in the middle of the board:
Now Hiring Part Time

Nervous excitement jolts through me. Before I can chicken out, I think about Bayleigh being gone all summer and Mom’s silly comment, and remind myself of the very true fact that without a job this summer, I’ll be spending all my time at home like a loser. So I swallow the lump in my throat, ignore the butterflies in my stomach, and step through the sliding glass doors.

Three super gorgeous guys hang around the front desk, talking with the older man who works there. And I mean
ridiculously
gorgeous. Like, hotter than Ryan Gosling and Channing Tatum combined. They’re probably way too old for me and they’d probably never even consider dating a senior in high school, but hey, a girl can look, can’t she? I gnaw on my bottom lip and stand with my hands in my back pockets, waiting for the guy behind the counter to notice me.

I get lost in a mixture of anxious, semi-motivational thoughts as I try to pump myself up until I realize someone is talking to me. “Ma’am?” The guy behind the count
er is watching me. He wears thick black framed glasses and has a buzzed haircut that shows a mixture of black and grey hair. He’s like a middle-aged hipster.

“Oh,” I say, focusing on him. Geez, how long had I been standing here like a total moron? “Hi.” I smile.

Luckily, he doesn’t seem fazed by my weirdness. “What’s up? Would you like the summer schedule?”

“Actually,” I say, pointing behind me to the general direction of the dry erase board. “I saw the sign that you were hiring, and I’d like to apply.”

He lifts a curious eyebrow. “Do you ride?”

“No.” My toes turn in as I stand awkwardly in front of the counter. “Not exactly.”

He smiles and reaches behind the counter, grabbing some papers. “Awesome. We could use someone who doesn’t ride. Too many kids want jobs here and think that means they can ride all day and never do any work.” He hands me an application. “What hours are you available to work?”

I shrug, feeling a ton of nervous weight fall off my shoulders because of his warm smile. “Pretty much all day, every day. For the summer, at least.” I take the application and a hot pink pen with the track’s logo printed on it. The man nods approvingly. “If you can pass a drug test, you’re hired.”

“Really?” I say, stopping myself before uttering the words
you’re not going to interview me?
If he doesn’t want to put me through thirty minutes of nerve-wracking questions and answers, then I’m happy to keep my mouth shut. No need to bring up the idea if he’s not thinking it. I sit in a chair against the wall and fill out the simple one-page application, my hands shaking with excitement over the possibilities that lie ahead.

In just one day I have managed to get new hair, a new job, and just maybe some new friends if I’m lucky. Not that Bayleigh isn’t the greatest friend ever—it’s just that with her gone, I’d like to hang out with someone other than my mom until she gets back. I sign the bottom of the application, swearing that all of the above information is correct, and fill in the date next to it.

Oh who am I kidding? I think, as I turn in the application to the guy behind the counter. I can say the word
friends
all I want when thinking about how I want to spend my summer. But even the most innocent parts of my subconscious know the truth:

That although I’d love to make some new
friends
, what I’d really like is a
boy
friend.