“So, you’re telling me, that every time you dye your hair, you wake up and the dyes all gone?” I was at SweetHearts Ice-Cream shop with my best friend, Ciara. It was a cute little place filled with booths at the sides and corners, and tables occupying the centre of the shop. We usually met every Sunday for their Sunday Sundae Special and we sat in the particular booth we always sat.

I just spilled everything concerning my weird hair condition and frankly, she didn’t believe me. She looked like she was expecting hidden cameras to jump out at any moment.

“Not just dye. Streaks and highlights too. Basically anything changing my hair from its original color.” I was so desperate for her to believe me but she did the opposite. She burst out laughing like I told her the world’s funniest joke. And it made me want to burst into tears. A little was already out, anyways.

“I’m sorry,” she laughed some more before she sobered up, “but that’s just too impossible to believe unless someone crept up your bedroom window and washed it all off.” Okay, seriously, why was that the only explanation anyone saw? “Just to be sure, how many walls did you walk into again? Seven, right? Five this morning and two this afternoon. I think you have a concussion. Fuck, I should’ve taken you to the hospital after the first two.”

She looked up and frowned, probably spotting my barely held in tears. “You’re crying. You’re actually serious.”

I didn’t say anything.

“Look, Sam. Anybody’d obviously find this hard to believe and it doesn’t exclude me. So why don’t you try recording it this night again and I’ll watch the video this morning. Sounds good?”

I shoved my tiny spoon into my ice-cream aggressively, “Honestly, I don’t think I could handle any more loss of sleep,” and shoved the ice-cream-filled spoon into my mouth, “I mean, seven walls? If I tried it, I’d probably walk straight into a ditch and continue walking on the same spot.”

Silence followed.

“Well, then what do we do?”

“You couldn’t possibly come over and you know, stay awake watching?” I suggested and put on my best injured dog look. It never worked but I had to use all available weapons.

“No, Sam. We have school tomorrow. And you know my Nigerian parents. Staying over at a friend’s doesn’t sit well with them.”

“But you could—”

“No, I can’t sneak out.” We were both silent, thinking of a possible solution. “Wait.” Ciara said, abruptly and I looked up, expectantly, “I can’t come to your house doesn’t mean you can’t come to mine.”

I felt a smile creeping up on my face.

“Why did we even have to think to realize that? Are we that stupid?” I grinned.

“Maybe you.” Ciara retorted.

“But I hate staying at your house, I mean, your parents…” I trailed off and she rolled her eyes. “I’m serious. They’re so fucking scary.”

It was true. Her parents were nice and polite but they made me feel intimidated and nervous as hell. I felt like they were watching my every move. Not a good feeling if you ask me.

“They’re not gonna eat you, Sam. My dad is really nice and goofy but for some weird reason, he gets all grumpy whenever my friends are around.”

“No offense, C. But I find that really hard to imagine.” She rolled her eyes again and smiled.

“So, your house, this night? I’ll be there at eight.”

“I’ll be expecting you.”

I looked down at her ice-cream and saw her bowl empty. What the hell? Didn’t she have a brain-freeze or something? I wasn’t even half done with mine.

As if she read my thoughts, she commented, “You’re a slow eater.”

“Well, technically, it’s not eating, it’s licking.”

“Smartass.” She murmured. Then like she remembered something, she grinned and her eyes lit up. “Anything on Destiny?” I blushed and her grin enlarged itself. “Something happened. Tell me. What happened?”

“The way she attacks me for info, you’d think she liked him, not me.” I murmured in a teasing tone.

“Oh, shush it.”

I took a deep breath, the memory of Destiny’s words causing a blush to form on my cheeks again.

“So immature.” I said to myself while working the smoothie machine, making sure he heard.

“So beautiful.” I choked on oxygen and looked up lightening fast, had immediate eye contact and averted my gaze to the ground.

Cue another round of my motherfrickin’ blushing.

I shoved his smoothie into his hand—taking extra care to avoid his fingers and eyes, though I could feel them on me—and collected his money.

It was done. There was no reason for him to still stand there but he did, his stare still on me and mine still on the floor. The floor has never looked this nice since I started working here.

“Samantha, I’m not messing with you. You really are.” I managed to bring my eyes to his and a corner of his lips lifted. I blushed again and he turned and left, leaving my face burning.

“He called me beautiful.” I whispered. My heart somersaulted just thinking about it.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I heard you well. He what?!!!” Ciara shrieked.

“Oh, I think you can do louder than that.” I muttered, sarcastically.

“Shut up. Explain.”

“Well, which?” Her eyes were large as saucers, attentive and I took that opportunity to tease her, keep her in suspense, not like what I wanted to say was interesting, anyways.

“Jesus Christ. Just talk already.” Her voice came out frustrated and annoyed and it pleased me, I mean, doesn’t everyone love annoying their best friend and seeing them all riled up? Cause I sure as hell do.

“I was in the coffee shop, nearing the end of my shift when he entered.” I narrated all from our argument over our nicknames to when he complimented me. I felt a weird connection to this guy. I couldn’t explain it, but it was just…there.

“Awwww. He likes you.” Ciara said, smiling.

I slumped in m seat. “He told me I’m beautiful. Doesn’t mean he likes me.”

“I knew you’d say that. Hurry up with your ice-cream. You need to go get ready for the sleepover.” she leaned back in her seat.

“It’s not my fault the it doesn’t want to get finished so quickly.”

“Of course.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Bye, mom." I waited till she drove away before moving towards Ciara’s front door. I succeeded in convincing her to let me stay over at Ciara’s on a school night. Convincing? More like you gave her no other option. Shut up. All I did was bother her, asking her why she was crying the other day. She could have chosen to let me stay home and answer my question, but she chose to drop me off without an answer.

Enough choices if you ask me.

I knocked on the sturdy, red door and waited a moment. Soon enough, I heard footsteps and the door was swung open.

“Aunty Sam!” a child-like voice squealed and I looked down to see one of Ciara’s younger sister. She giggled and launched herself at me, nearly throwing me down. Like three other younger version of Ciara, two more females and one male all appeared and joined in the hugging and I remained at the centre, lost. They were my best friend’s siblings and I adored them all.

I rarely ever go to her house, so I rarely ever saw them.

“To the room! Now!” I heard Ciara call from somewhere in the house and all the giggling, shoving children at my legs scrambled off. I finally stepped into the house and took my surroundings in while waiting for Ciara.

There were pictures on the wall and some furniture around. It was classy yet homey. I felt at home but still on edge just in case her parents were home.

“Hey.” I looked up to see Ciara at the top of the staircase that led to her room, gesturing to come upstairs. I turned to picked up my bag I had dropped in the middle of my cuddle session and climbed up the stairs.

“Hey.” I greeted back and we hugged.

“Come on.” She started walking and I followed.

We entered her room and she jumped on her bed and sat, legs crossed under her. “Do you enjoy standing? Sit.”

She laughed and I mumbled a ‘shut up’ and re-dumped my bags on the floor, then proceeded to join her on the bed. Her room was one of my favorite places to be—apart from my room—though I hadn’t been in there too many times.

Normal white ceiling and walls holding pastel pink wallpaper designed with wavy lilac lines. The floor was carpeted like mine. Mirror near the bathroom door and a bed stand where it was made for—by the head of the bed. Simple. Just like a normal teen girl’s bedroom…sans the hot celebrity posters but did anyone actually still put those on their walls?

“So, what’s the plan?” Ciara asked and I stopped my scrutiny.

“Well,” I shrugged off my jacket and put it beside me, “we definitely have to dye my hair, I brought a pack I bought when I left the ice-cream shop, and then we have two options. Either we both stay awake all through the night,” she nodded indicating she was following, “or you pity me and let me sleep till it’s about to happen.”

“I don’t think the second one’s gonna happen.” she said, smirking.

My emotions were scrambled due to lack of sleep so I didn’t even feel embarrassed letting a high-pitched whine fall from my lips. “Why not?!”

“Well, I’d like to see you knock into a few more walls tomorrow. That shit is hilarious.” And then I realized she was just teasing.

I flipped her off and whacked her with one of her pillows. “But I’m not letting you sleep till nine. I’ve got a movie I need you to watch.”

“Nope. I want to sleep. Scratch that, I need to sleep and watching a movie is not meeting that need.”

“No, but you can’t go to sleep immediately after dying your hair. You need to stay upright and you can’t sleep without resting your head on something, at least not in your state.” she said in extreme smugness.

Problem with Ciara, she thought too fast for anybody’s good.

“Besides, you need to watch this movie. It just came out on Netflix.”

Another problem with Ciara. Once she watches a movie, and it’s interesting to her, I end up watching it with her against my will and being questioned as to why I didn’t laugh with her at the funny parts, or cry at the emotional parts. Our senses of humor are different and I think I need to whack her with a plank before she gets that.

I didn’t even argue this time. “Fine We dye my hair, and then we watch a movie, but nine, I need to sleep and I don’t care if I don’t get to see the couple kiss.”

She grumbled but agreed to my terms.

“Around what time do I wake you?” I settled down comfortably beside her as she got out her grey laptop.

“It happened around five, so five on the dot, you get me up.”

“Why can’t we both get up around five? I have an alarm clock.” she complained and I rolled my eyes.

“It’s precautionary. What if it happens before five?”

“Ugh, fine.” She eyed me for some moments. “I hate you.”

“I hate you, too.”

Weird, but it was our only way of saying ‘I love you’ cause we both hated mushiness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Someone was poking me.

It wasn’t morning yet, but someone was poking me.

Who did I offend?

“Get your ass up. It’s five.”

And what was Ciara doing in my room.

Another shove caused me to open my eyes, ready to yell at the mother*censored* but my foggy brain slowly cleared. Everywhere was dark but I remembered where I was and why my sleep was disturbed.

“Fuuuuuck. Why did I even suggest this sleepover? My hair can go fuck itself.” I moaned. I was so tired I could barely move.

“You swore twice in one sentence. I’m a good teacher.” I could hear the smugness in her tone.

“It’s too early to joke, C. How did you stay aw—Ouch!” My thigh began to throb. “What was that for?”

“Sorry.” Ciara apologized sheepishly. “I thought I heard you slurring back to sleep.”

I glared at her figure perched at the edge of the bed. “Bitch.”

“Gonna ignore that.” I felt movement and guessed she was stretching. I sat up and rested against the bedhead.

“How’d you stay awake?” I asked, curious.

“I didn’t. Set an alarm for four and stayed awake till now.”

I stared at her…well, where I though she was, in disbelief. “You what?!” I shouted… Actually, I whispered. I was angry but not enough to wake her scary parents. “What if it doesn’t always happen at the exact same time it did? Oh no. How am I supposed to survive another night of sleeplessness?”

“Shut up, Sam. Chill the fuck out. What if it hasn’t happened yet?”

Calm down, Samantha. Best friends don’t bash each other’s brains out.

I huffed and crossed my arms, trying to control my irritation. Sleepy Sam is bad Sam.

We both sat in the dark, listening to the faint tick of her wall clock, anticipating the supernatural to happen and I knew Ciara’s eyes were rested on my figure, watching. I kept fighting the sleep, but the sleep kept fighting back. The war went on and I wasn’t aware what amount of time had passed, but I think I won when I heard a muffled noise come from Ciara.

My heart began beating at an irregular rate as I jolted up from my slumped position and I saw it a second time.

I saw my hair light up like neon lighting, and I knew Ciara was seeing it to. That same red glow moved on my hair like last night, and it still knocked the breath out of me. Everything happened all over again, but this time, I was sure I wasn’t hallucinating cause Ciara switched on her lamp and the expression on her face told me so. It was so quiet, I could hear both our hearts beat.

“Holy fucking shit, Sam.”

I could do nothing but nod, a lump forming in my throat. “That’s right, C. I’m a freak.” I spilled my fear.

She just rolled her eyes. “Of course, that’s what you’re gonna think. How the hell does your hair rejecting dye make you a freak. Probably just a weird biological reaction. Come on, Sam, you know, like those ones we watch on YouTube where some people can touch electricity for extended seconds or have really stretchy skin or…or…” she trailed off and I laughed. A humourless one.

“It’s not that, C. You and I both know it’s different.”

“How are you so sure?” Denial. Like I first felt before I accepted this.

“My mom. She and my dad were discussing something.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Love. We need to get Sara again. Her goddamn hair is already acting up, what if the rest begin too? I’m not hesitating anymore. This needs to be done. I’m calling her.” My dad’s voice. For some reason, whoever that Sara was, she sounded familiar.

“No, Daniel. No, please. Not my baby. My only child and daughter at that, especially after Kristina’s…” she stopped. “I know we didn’t succeed with Kristina but—”

“Exactly! We didn’t succeed with Kristina, and that’s why we need to take these measures.”

Silence, followed by sobs. Feminine sobs. My mom was crying. Why was she crying and who was Kristina?

“She said my hair is acting up. And there’s a Sara…and a Kristina. My mom was crying, C. I don’t think she’d cry just cause of an ordinary biological hair defect.” My voice sounded detached, distant.

“Still,” she tried again and came up with nothing.

“There’s no still, C. Set the alarm for six, we have school, you know.” And with that, I lowered myself to the bed, ready to utilize my less than one hour left to sleep to the fullest.

“How are you so calm about this?”

“There’s something behind my hair, Ciara. I look calm, but you don’t really believe that, do you? I’m not calm at all.”

I’m freaking petrified.