Talia sat in her car for no more than five minutes. That was the allotted time she had allowed herself to worry and panic. She worked on a scheduled system, and this was just one of those times when a time limit proved useful.

So she told herself. Truthfully she had pondered what she was supposed to say the entire car trip and just drawn blanks. The fifteen minute drive from the local hairstylist’s place to her house was not very welcoming for deep thought anyways, but even a small snippet of the right words to say would’ve been helpful. Not just drawing blanks like this.

Talia’s hands tapped on her steering wheel apprehensively still. She was parked outside of her house, in the miniature back parking lot, and the porch lights gone out for the night. It seemed the lights in Sam’s house were still on, for whatever reason. Maybe he had some homework left to do? Did little kids even get homework nowadays? Then again, he was probably just asleep and his parents were awake and bustling around the house. Somehow though, Talia couldn’t clearly imagine Sam going to bed before his parents, whether they knew it or not. Of course Talia was just a tad biased.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Focus! She had to focus on what she was going to say to her parents. As her hair fluttered around her head from the sudden motion, Talia caught yet another glimpse of the fateful pink streak in her hair. It was like it was taunting her. Though she was proud of her decision, she was now having those second thoughts that everyone gets when doing something rebellious. Maybe that feeling is the reason anyone rebels- the tingling feeling when you know you’re alive because you’ve done something against the norm, against the system, man. Great, now she was starting to sound like a washed up hippie.

Talia sighed and threaded her fingers gently through the light pink curl. It was seriously the smallest streak anyone had ever put in their hair. It wasn’t even that bad! Plenty of people dyed their hair daily, and even respectable politicians did so to increase their publicity ratings. In fact, it shouldn’t have been a bad thing at all!

So why did it feel like it weighed a million pounds?

Talia glanced at her phone. It was almost 9 o’ clock. She had a few messages on her phone from friends, but her heart wasn’t in answering them at all. She put her phone back in her purse and sighed. She’d have to get out of this car at some point right? She glanced back at the clock, she noticed it now totaled her time to almost 15 minutes in the car, not 5 like she had promised herself.

The door clicked and snapped shut in a matter of seconds. It was only once Talia was out in the chilled night air that she realized she hadn’t thought of anything. What she would’ve given for a hat or even a scarf to hide her hair with. Why hadn’t she, the smart planner, prepared any of this?

The answer, of course, was that she had never really planned to do ANY of this. She had been driving home from playing tennis when she saw the hair salon and just randomly decided to pull into the parking lot at the last second. Thinking back on it, none of this hair dying business had been very thought through at all. Maybe she should’ve pondered on her decision more.

That wasn’t living though right? All the great rock songs said that “living on a prayer” was the best way to go. 18th Century poets said that life without spontaneity wasn’t even a life worth living. Then again, many people said that preparation led to a lack of folly. Which was it then?

Talia sucked in a deep breath of air and headed towards her door. The steps seemed to take ages. With each one she felt as if she was walking closer to her own doom.

Of course, that was just Talia’s inner drama queen at work. Her parents probably wouldn’t be that angry. Right? Right. She told herself this over and over, but the words didn’t really seem to suck in. How she wish she had that hat now. It would be so nice and useful and …

Oh she was at the door now wasn’t she. Should she just barge in and pretend that it was no big deal? When her parents stared at her she would just give them that rebellious teen “what are you looking at?” face, right?

Because that would really win it over with the ‘rents.

Why did this have to be so difficult? Being a teenager was way too hard. There were boy problems, parent problems, school problems, appearance problems. What she would give to just be off at college already, living her life to the fullest and wildest.

Speaking of boy problems, Talia wondered how Björn had been holding up this whole time. She hadn’t heard much of him except a simple text or two exchanged between classes and such. Well she didn’t really expect much of a reply from him. After all, she had sort of gone all Sailor Draconis on his a** without him knowing, watched him get beat up. It wasn’t one of her better moments. The only real good she had done in the situation was being the one to haul him off to the emergency room, and even then she didn’t do much. If she was being the real good sumaritan she would have gone in there with him and called his parents to make sure they knew he was okay. How could she have been so selfish? She needed to learn how to harness this “power of good” thing in a much more productive way it seemed.

This brought her to think about her meeting with Chaonis. Should she have called him then and asked for his assistance? At what point should one delve into needing help? Of course, Talia assumed she never needed help. She could handle all of these things on her own. It was a good thing she hadn’t been in a situation where a civilian had been really hurt. Or the opposite really. If she got hurt herself, it would be really hard to cover up in the emergency room. “Oh yes, I was just attacked by a youma, no big deal guys. Stitch me up!”

That was a new thought. What happened when she hurt herself? Of course, she would be far too careful to actually do any damage to herself. She was invincible! … Right? Last time she had gotten a scratch, from the youma fight with Björn, the thing had disappeared in just a few days. Practically no time at all really. Plus it was during the weekend, so none of her friends saw it; any time she was out with them she just wore longer shirts. It was fall after all- long shirts were acceptable.

Reality came back and Talia realized she had been zoning out at her own back door. She still hadn’t thought of a single thing to say to her parents. There wasn’t a single fighting word in sight. She had at least decided on one thing; rushing in boldly was not the way to go. She would simply sneak in, race up the stairs to her room, and then avoid it until morning when she actually had to face the music. There was no way she could avoid her parents in the morning. Even if her father was missing from the breakfast table, her mother was always up before her and singing about something or other. Yes, the problem would just have to wait until morning. She would have one more night of rebellious teenage angst.

All of this rushed through Talia’s mind as she reached out and pulled the door handle. It seemed to creak louder than any door knob she had ever heard before. The ancient brownstone foundation seemed to shake as she put one foot in the door, and the pinewood flooring seemed to creak and lurch every time she took a step. As she attempted to shut the door as quietly as possible, it seemed to just slam shut, louder than it had ever been before. Why did her room have to be on the third floor of this stupid house? Every step she took just oozed with parental disdain, even if it was covering in a plush carpet. This was just torture.

Again, this could easily be the Drama Queen Talia talking.

She had made it to the second floor safely, and was almost hopeful that she had cleared the secret stealth mission that had been given to her by God. She could’ve jumped up and down had it not been the most difficult floor to pass. The second floor had her parents’ room, and she wasn’t sure if they were sleeping or not yet. Talia wasn’t about to check and risk her entire operation being blown to pieces though! So instead she started tiptoeing towards the next set of stairs. It didn’t sound like her parents were in their room sleeping, but Talia wasn’t about to take any chances. She was so close!

Then everything was ruined.

“Taliaaaa~” her mother called from the kitchen downstairs. “Come down here, I want to see that perky little face.” It was a typical greeting that Talia would’ve normally responded to ecstatically. Her afternoon chats with her mother weren’t filled with teenage angst, not unless her father was present at them. In fact, they were usually filled with a feng shui cup of tea, and some sort of baked good she had whipped up. Even if Dahlia had quit the bakery business, she certainly knew how to make a mean chocolate croissant still.

“No dear, I definitely just saw her dart up the stairs.” Oh goodie, that meant her father was in the kitchen as well. There was no one else Dahlia would call “dear” after all. Unless her mother had become some sort of adulterous scandal. Like that would ever happen. Talia knew her mother and father loved each other a lot more than they let on. Nevermind that though.

Talia took slow steps down the stairs as she pawed at nothingness to create the right sentence. The one sentence that would ease her parents completely. The one that would make them say “oh, is that all that silly streak is? Well okay dear~”

That probably wouldn’t happen, would it?

Finally she reached the bottom of the stairs. This was her last chance to dart back up the stairs and lock her bedroom door. She could just ignore her parents’ call completely. Let it slide until morning. Say something like “I have a lot of homework, sorry!”

Something in Talia didn’t want to do that. Part of her wanted the drama, the teenage drama. Another part of her was just obedient to her parents. If they said “Come here,” she would gladly do so. She was a good girl at heart, she really was.

Gulping, she took a step into the kitchen, where her parents were leaning casually on the counters, talking about something adultish over a cup of late night tea. As soon as she walked into the little space by the door, she quietly said, “Did you need something?” Her eyes were attracted to some invisible speck on the floor, and she was biting her lip. Where was all of that Draconian power now?

For a few moments, her parents didn’t say anything. Talia’s mother looked at her a bit strangely, whereas her father just stared, with no real emotion in it. Talia’s eyes darted from the cabinets, to the floor, to the pantry- anywhere but meeting eyes with her two parents.

Talia’s father was the first to speak.

“Talia why did you do this?” It was incredulity first. Her mother came next.

“Your hair…” was all she could seem to say.

All at once her father’s arms flew up as he began one of his quiet rages. “How could you do something like this? Do you know what people will think of us now? They’ll think our daughter…”

It was then that Dahlia decided to intervene. “Dear, I don’t think you shou-“

She was cut off by more shouts from her father, “No, it was TALIA who shouldn’tve. Shouldn’tve died her hair that hideous color like some vagrant teenage punk rocker-“ He cut off and let out a sigh. “It isn’t permanent right? Go wash it out. Now.”

“But dad-“

“I said now!”

It was then that Talia broke a little, and snapped back, “It’s permanent for four months! I can’t just take it out father.” Her fists were balled, and her mother looked a bit scared of her. Maybe all of this senshi fighting hadn’t done her the most good when it came to confrontation. Maybe this was already in her and the senshidom was just bringing it out.

Her father paused for a moment, and then said, “You are grounded. Go to your room. Now.” Talia stayed right where she was standing, not budging an inch. “I said NOW,” he shouted. Dahlia put a hand on his arm, as if say ‘that’s too far.’ Talia’s father completely ignored it and continued looking straight at his daughter with cold black eyes. He was furious.

“Why does it matter that I died my hair?!” Talia said. In a way, she was just as stubborn as her father. “Why can’t I just have a streak of pink? Does it ruin my 4.0? Does it take away from my tennis skill? Has it made me less of a person?!” she cried out.

“It ruins our image Talia,” her father spat back, equally as stubborn. “What do you think people will think of me when they see such abnormal hair? What about your mother? You’ll be the talk of the neighborhood, and so will we.” His face twisted a little. He had a valid point. The area they lived in had mostly older folk; reserved old women and men that were conservative in their ways. They were terrible gossips too. There was no doubt that Talia’s hair would be talked about by tomorrow at least, when they saw her head out for school. It was something she couldn’t really avoid.

“Everyone is doing it though dad,” she attempted feebly.

“You are not everyone,” her dad threw back.

Talia’s eyes teared up and she marched off to her room, not obeying her father’s will, but retreating from a fight she couldn’t win. No matter how she argued, it would just fuel the flame. They could never meet a mutual understanding, it just didn’t seem possible. As she tramped up the stairs, she could hear her mother and father begin to discuss this new change. It really wasn’t a huge deal; it was the reputation that was at stake, not Talia’s hair. What she would give to live in a family that wasn’t so strict. Her mother would’ve understood after awhile, maybe, but never her father. They could go through therapy and it would’nt make a difference. They just didn’t see eye to eye.

As she reached her room, she closed the door shut and locked it. She threw off her accessories and clothes, and tossed on some pajamas. Talia flopped onto her bed and hugged her pillow tight. So much for teenage rebellion.

((WC: 2,600))