Two days until school started, 17 days until their first day off, 110 days until christmas, 212 days until her birthday and (probably most importantly) 275 days until school was out once more. Talia did the subtle calculations in her head, if not with a little help from her fingers and toes, absentmindedly as she waited for the hairdresser to return from selecting the proper shampoos, dyes, and supplies.

Was this really the right thing to do? Of course her parents weren't going to approve, but then, they didn't approve of much. There would be a lot of silent anger from her father, and quite a few disapproving looks from her mother. Her mother would eventually soften after a few days, but be very cross for a while. Worse yet was the fact that it was visible on her person at all times, a constant reminder of the "vile deed" she had committed.

Strangely though, Talia’s mind was preoccupied elsewhere. She was actually thinking about two things: what Björn would think of it, and how this would affect her senshi appearance.

Obviously, the more important matter was what Björn thought. Would he think it was odd of her to do this? Talia wasn’t really sure how many girls over in Europe did this, if at all regularly. It seemed like a normative to Talia, but things were always different for people from different countries. She recalled reading one time that doing the playful “bunny ears” in Australia was actually an insult pertaining to “******** off.” Sure it couldn’t be that bad, what she was doing?

Then came the matter of senshidom, the ever-looming presence in her life now. Would this change carry over to her senshi half? Possibly, possibly not. It might end up being a rather nasty decision. What if, by some natural hoodoo senshi law, she couldn’t power up because of it?

Now that was just silly. Obviously she was just convincing herself wrongly so that she could somehow talk herself out of this. Right? … Right??

"You shore you wanna do this hon?"

The voice startled Talia out of her thoughtful stupor and back into the world of the living. She was flung back to the barber shop chair (which was rather squishy and comfortable as far as uniform chairs went), away from the reaches of her inner mind. That was a scary place to visit anyways. Looking up at the barber, Talia smiled falsely as her eyes examined the woman. She was skinny, possibly too skinny, with a short black asymmetrical cut. She had a simple grey t-shirt on and a pair of jeans, which mirrored Talia’s light blue shirt and deep black skirt. Though Talia thought it was highly irregular, the lady seemed to be chewing bubble gum; this seemed rather out of place considering she was dealing with hair. Talia just prayed that none of her curly black locks would fall prey to the sticky substance. That was definitely not what she came to the barber for today.

Gosh this wasn’t even permanent, why was she fretting it so hard? Talia let out a nervous sigh and said, “Why wouldn’t I? It’s not your place to tell me not to do it after all. I would’ntve come here if I didn’t want it!” Okay that was probably a tad more snappy than the poor hairdresser deserved, but Talia wasn’t exactly in the best of moods. She had decided to do this on a split second decision, and now she was starting to regret sitting in the chair. Her anxiety was practically leaking through the seats and drizzling onto the floors.

But no, she had come here with a purpose, and that purpose was going to be fulfilled. In response to her snarky remark, the hairdresser gave her a skeptical “been there, done that” look. Perhaps she’d had a rebellious childhood of some sort? This wasn’t the time to be debating that.

As the lady shampooed and rinsed her hair, Talia began regretting it even more. Her black curls sopped over her shoulders, and she could just hear the shouts from her father, see the disappointed look on her mother’s face. Maybe that was the point though. Was this one of those cries for attention or whatever that the magazines always talked about? Possibly.

Yet Talia couldn’t find it within herself to stand up and run away. This was the type of thing she’d always wanted to do, and it was within her power to do. This was how adulthood was supposed to work, right? Okay well maybe she was still only seventeen, but she was getting there right?

Maybe this was all result from her water fight with Sam. As the water washed over her hair, she was reminded of the similar sensation she got from the water gun splashing all over her. It was really that fight that had caused her to think about growing up and becoming an adult. Maybe this was a rally towards childhood, viva la vi and what not. Her inner child give one last shot at breaking through perhaps?

Well whatever it was, she was in the chair and this was happening now. Talia flinched a little from the cold of the color dye, but merely smiled for the hair stylist, clearly trying to pull off a facade of relaxedness. Maybe she should have chosen a more natural color? That would’ve probably gone over a tad smoother with her parents, but hey- if you were going to rebel, might as well go full on right?

It only took about 20 minutes to apply the dye; after all she was only doing a streak, not her entire head. The whole head would really piss her parents off to the point of disowning her. Besides, she wouldn’t look good with a full head of reddish pink anyways. A streak was just fine by her.

A few more minutes of drying, a small trim and a bang adjustment later Talia was staring into a mirror with a beautiful half irish half asian girl with long black hair and a reddish pink streak staring straight back at her (although, that could be a bias of her own). It wasn’t a permanent streak, but the hair stylist had promise at least four months of it. Four months was a long time for a teenage girl.

Well, here’s to teenage rebellion.

((WC: 1,067))