??` ?? ?´?
“DON'T YOU DAREmove, Niall. If this bleach gets in your eyes, you’ll be going to the ball in an eyepatch and Molly deserves better than a pirate.”
Letting my little sister near my head with chemicals just hours before one of the fanciest nights of my life so far is probably not the best choice I’ve made in my life. But to be fair to Claire, she’s always let me do hers. Plus, she’s an artist. Doesn’t that mean she’d be good at this?
It better.
“Maybe I should’ve just left it as it was for the pictures,” I say, trying to reach up and touch my head but Claire smacks my hand.
“And look like a skunk? Please.”
“You know,” I say. “I’ve been thinking about letting it grow back. Go back to brown.”
“Really?” she pauses above me, probably surprised. I mean, we’ve been bleaching our hair every three weeks for the past four years. I’m sure it comes as a shock.
“Yeah. I mean, maybe just to see how it looks, you know?”
I feel her start dabbing the little bleach brush on my head again. “Yeah. Maybe I will too. Though I’d probably have to just dye the rest of my hair the colour of my roots, because I’m not waiting for all my hair to grow back. I can’t pull off the skunk look, no thank you.”
I snort, hoping she doesn’t smack me or anything. I get lucky, I think because she’s too focused on not putting chemical burns on my forehead. Mam warned her that if she did, she was going to pay to get every photo we take tonight retouched so we can send them to our grandparents.
“Niall?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re going to be nice to Stephen tonight, right?”
I bite back a groan. That lad had been an unwelcome fixation in my house for the last couple of weeks. I mostly just redirected myself to a different room when he was over. I mean—what was I supposed to do about the lad who I physically fought a few months agodatingmy sister?
I wasn’t sure if that’s what they were calling it or not, but they’ve been to the cinema together a couple of times, and now they’re going to the dance together. It’s a bleeding nightmare.
“I just don’t get it,” I sigh. “He’s got the personality of a damp cabbage.”
“You barely know him,” she huffs. “And heaskedme to go with him, Niall. And he was very sweet about it, as I keep telling you. He brought me a bar of Galaxy and actually looked me in the eye when he asked. He’s been really kind to me lately—properly kind. And I can’t just go back and say I changed my mind.”
“You know if JJ had the stones to open his mouth, you’d be going with him,” I say. “You’ve been waiting to go to this dance for three years, and in that time you always talked about going with JJ.”
“Well, that was when he was just my friend and he was my only option,” she says dismissively, but I can hear the hurt in her voice. I’ve hit a nerve.
“You know that it was more than that. I don’t know what happened between you two—”
“Just drop it, okay? No matter what, I’m not ditching a date I’ve already committed to just because JJ Biggs finally realized he’s a fool.” She sighs, her anger deflating as quickly as it rose. “Please, Niall. Just for tonight. Just be... civil. Okay? I want to have a good time.”
I close my eyes, picturing Stephen Rafferty’s big, dumb, happy face. Or rather, the version of his face I’d had a row with and would gladly revisit.
But then I think of my sister. I think of how much this dance means to her, how excited she was this morning, how hard she worked making accessories to go with that sunny dress she got. And I just want her to be happy.
Even if it means dealing with him.
“I’ll do my best, Claire-Bear.”
56
Woven Together
Molly
December, 2007
