Why Stanley Doesn’t Do Hair
Start Reading Nancy’s Story Here.
“So you made the first move?” Anne’s scarf covered head tilted.
“I guess so.” Really it was Stanley who threw the pen but that was a technicality wasn’t it? She felt much more daring taking the credit. “If I waited for Ted, I’d still be waiting. With some men you have to approach them.” Nancy, now that she had a boyfriend, considered herself somewhat of an expert.
“Interesting.” Her new friend seemed to be contemplating this strategy, a finger tapping against her bottom lip.
Which is one of the many things, she liked about Anne. The girl listened. Not all yap, yap, yap, me, me, me. Nancy had been talking about Ted for the past hour and not a single attempt at a topic change.
“I…” but that thought was erased as a huge, half naked brute sneaked up behind the couch and grabbed the scarf off Anne’s head.
“I’ve got it, I’ve got it,” he yelled, running down the hallway, holding it over his head triumphantly. His buddies snickered, bent over, covering their big mouths.
And what they were snickering at was Anne’s very green, straw like hair. Nancy stared at it in amazement, having never seen anything like it. She suddenly felt much better about her haircut.
Anne’s brown eyes blinked a couple times but no other expression crossed her serene face.
“Interesting color,” Nancy sipped at her cola, trying to act as nonchalant.
“It was supposed to be red.” The girl picked up a lock, examining it for herself, like she couldn’t believe the color.
“It’s not.” From Anne’s eyebrows, Nancy guessed that her natural hair color was brown. How had it gone from brown to green?
“Yes, it’s not.” Hands now folded on knees primly pressed together.
“Have you thought about dying it back?” Was that even possible?
Anne gave her a small smile. “I’ll never dye my hair again.” A statement of unchanging fact.
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Read more about a much older Nancy and Anne in Breach Of Trust, available May 2008.
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