Chapter 20

               Ever  since I made friends with Emily Jaeger, I knew we would be inseparable.  Funny how I say that, because that's what pretty much every middle  schooler used to say about their friends. We would call them our best  friends forever and ever, and we would claim that we are practically  twins, but in the long run we just drift apart. That didn't happen with  Emily and I. In fact, our friendship probably even became stronger.

                Ten  years later, and Emily and I are still going strong. Yeah, we have our  fights every now and again, but she's my best friend and I know that at  the end of the day, I can rely on her one hundred percent.

                But relying on Emily dying my hair?

                No way.

                I love  Emily and all, and even though Emily is an aspiring hairdresser, my hair  is one of my favourite features. It can't be tamed; I call it,  forever associating it with Miley Cyrus' song. Emily has dyed it  before, mainly just a subtle ombre, which I was perfectly fine with, but  her latest 'phase' has me questioning if I should let her loose.

                Emily  likes going through phases. The tie dye phase, the slight-emo phase, the  ombre phase, the fluffy sweater phase, the dip dye phase, the  vegetarian phase and the strictly chicken nugget phase. I could list  more, but it would be a never ending list, due to Emily's fascination  with trying something new. I, on the other hand, like to stick with the  same boring old schedule.

                I like  waking up at the same time every morning, with the same routine, eating  the same flavour of pop tarts and going to bed around the same time  every school night. Anything out of routine would feel . . . odd, while  Emily enjoys the feeling of being 'out of place'.

                I will never understand my best friend.

                Any who,  Emily's latest phase happens to include hair dye—and lots of it. One  look at the bag in her hands, and I felt like hiding in a hole and never  coming out. Not that I don't trust Emily to dye hair—she did an  apprenticeship so she knows how to—it's just that I like having the  boring, dull sun-bleached brown hair I was born with.

                Emily?  An entirely different story. Emily has natural white blonde hair, so she  has never had to bleach it to get any of the colours she's wanted. For  the past few months, Emily had experimented with different colours of  dip-dye. Her latest, most favoured trend would be a bright, turquoise  blue. Not to boast or anything, but I dyed it.

                Of course I would boast about it, I did a pretty good job for a very uncreative person.

                "I was  thinking about going this colour," Emily holds up a tube of lilac  coloured hair dye. My eyes nearly bulge out of their head when I see  that it is labelled 'Permanent'. Emily has only ever done her hair in  semi-permanent so that it would wash out.

                "Permanent?" I choke on my ice cream, "You do realize that it's permanent, as in its going to stay in your hair forever?"

                "Of  course," she rolls her eyes, playing with the tube of dye between her  fingers. "I really like this colour. I think I'm going to dye my whole  head, not just dip dye though."

                I nearly choke on my ice cream again.

                I could  never imagine Emily with purple hair, because it would just look so  foreign and different, but I know that there is no way to stop Emily  from doing something when she has her eyes on it. Just like when she  spontaneously pierces her own ears, or any other crazy thing she has  done in her life. That's a lot of things, I have to add.

                "Really,"  I drawl out, wincing as I hit my funny bone on the side of my bed. For  the past half an hour, I'd been eating my cake batter ice cream with  enough elegance I would put the Queen to shame. In reality, I'm actually  eating like a pig, but I'll just say that I have the etiquette of a  young woman. "Are you sure you want to dye your hair this colour?"

                "Yup," she pops the 'p', "And you're doing it for me."

                I wince  again, but this is because I know that I'll have to spend the next half  an hour dying the ringer out of Emily's poor hair, and not because my  funny bone is colliding with my furniture.

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                 "Oh," Emily gasps, "My God."

                Needless  to say, Emily has purple hair. She also pinned me down to ombre my hair  a little lighter, which I guess isn't too bad, because it looks  nice—still not happy though, because I definitely didn't need that huge  egg on my forehead because of her violent tendencies.

                 "I love  it!" She squeals loudly. I take a look at Emily, who is looking in my  floor to ceiling mirror, toying with her hair and gushing like a little  girl. The purple turned out a lot better than I thought. It wasn't  extremely vibrant and crazy; it was kind of transparent, leaving a bit  of blonde undertone showing. It's hard to explain, but the colour really  suited her eyes.

                "It  looks so good," I fist pump, awarding myself for my amazing job at dying  hair. I may have had a freak out half way through, because I dyed a bit  of her eyebrow, but all was good after we washed it out. "I never would  have though this colour would look so good on you, but it does. Nate's  going to either love it, or dump you," I shrugged.

                "Gee,  thanks for the encouragement," Emily scoffs, still playing with her hair  in her hands. I had long gone eaten all of my cake batter ice cream  with the help of her, only the container remained. I was kind of bummed  when I finished it, because I know that I'll have to work twice as hard  at volleyball practise tomorrow to work it off. Just like Tyler is going  to have to work off that huge burger he had from Maccas yesterday. "I  think I did a pretty amazing job on yours, as well."

                There  wasn't a huge difference between my old hair and this hair, apart from  the fact that the ends are a light, golden blonde while the top is a  medium brown with strands of sun bleached brown. "Hell yeah," I grin,  "Now, you better go show your boyfriend, he is next door after all."

                "I think  that's the best thing about staying here," Emily gushes, "I can go  straight over to Nate's whenever I want."

                "Are you  . . . are you using me?" I gasp, "To see your boyfriend? Oh my  goodness, I know I never should've trusted you."

                I know  that Emily is joking, but I couldn't help but say that just to stir the  pot. It's one of my many fabulous talents.

                "I'm  sorry," Emily wipes a fake tear from her cheek, "But I've been lying to  you all this time. I didn't intend on ever telling you!"

                I let  out a brief laugh, "Go see your boyfriend," I usher her out of the door  of my bedroom, "And don't forget to come back, no sleepovers for you  yet."

                "Since when have you been my father," she grimaces, "You sound exactly like him! No sleepover at Nate's anymore, because I don't want grandchildren. No hokey pokey, Emily."  She mocks her father with his deep, gravelly voice—but only when he is  sober. When he is as pissed as a donkey, Emily doesn't dare cross paths  with him.

                "Well,  someone's gotta keep you two in order," I wink playfully, "Don't forget  to wrap his Willy!" I slam my bedroom door, bursting out laughing as I  hear Emily shriek loudly and start pounding on my door, but I'd already  locked it. "No way are you coming in, you betrayed me bitch!"

                "Usted  es un pedo de pollo," Emily screams from the other side of the door.  This makes me laugh even harder, because Emily is so horrible with her  Spanish that there is nothing more you can do than piss yourself because  you've laughed too hard.

                     "Who's a chicken fart?" Austin yells out from his bedroom. Even though  he has his headphones in, he has crazy good hearing. I'm as deaf as an  ignorant cat, though. In one ear, out the other. "Oh wait. It's  definitely Nova! Must have been the McChicken she had for dinner!"

                 "I HAD A  BURGER YOU ASS," I scream back. My brother is officially a doodledick.  Enough said. "I'M NOT PLAYING XBOX WITH YOU ANYMORE!"

                 "Nooooooooo," he screams. I can almost imagine him slumping onto the  floor on his knees with his head in his hands. "But Rex keeps on beating  me, I need my amazing sister."

                I smile  victoriously. And that, my dear friends, is how you get your siblings to  suck up to you like putty. "Bye Emily!" I yell out to my best friend  who is no doubt already gone, but I bid my farewells anyway. My mommy  taught me manners.

                I trudge  through Austin and my ensuite bathroom and into his bedroom where he is  playing Xbox. As per usual. Austin is attached to his Xbox so much,  that he would take it everywhere with him. That and because Henry and  Rex are forever on there and wanting him to play with him.

                "So, Hollywood Austin," I jump onto his bed, "How is life going now that you know you are going to be famous."

                "That  reminds me of that vine where the little girl was talking about how she  wants to be famous," Austin imitates her, while multitasking on his game  by shooting and running at the same time. "It feels pretty good,  actually. I never would have thought I would be able to be an actor at  my age, let alone even get a big gig."

                "They  chose you because you are one of the best actors and liars I've ever  met," I continued jumping on his bed like a little kid. Except, it was  short lived when I hit my head on the ceiling and nearly gave myself  concussion. "Oww," I cradle my head with my hands. Another injury I've  sustained tonight, except this one was inflicted on me.

                "I  learnt from the best," Austin replies emotionlessly. I realize that it's  because he's in the middle of a bloodbath and that any kind of emotion  would totally ruin his kill streak.

                "Me!?" I gush. My brother thinks I'm the best actor? I feel privileged.

                "No way," he scoffs, "Definitely mom and dad."

                I  stiffen. Austin never usually brings up our mom and dad into  conversations, heck it's probably the only thing he is bittersweet  about. And, here he is talking about the topic with humor laced through  his words. Austin wanted nothing more than for our mom and dad to act  like a family with us, always has and I thought, always will.

                "I  guess," I sigh exasperatedly. The topic isn't such a soreass for me; it  mainly just makes me angry as all hell. "Do you ever think about if  they're going to divorce? What would happen with us? Like, what if mom  had custody of you, and I would be in custody of dad?"

                "All the  time," Austin mumbles, "Part of me wants them to divorce, while the  other half wants them to stay together, because at least then we  wouldn't be separated. You're the best sister, Nova," he cringes at his  words, "And as much as I hate to admit this, I actually am so grateful  to have you as my sister."

                Awwwwwww! The devil has feelings.

                "Aren't  you a cutie," I resist the temptation to squeeze his baby cheeks, "And I  love you too my little brother."

                "Okay,  I'm done with this bonding thing," Austin shudders, "It's weird. Now,  hurry up and help me beat Rex before I fart on you."

                Oh Austin Lockheart, you're quite the charmer.

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                Nothing  makes you feel more vulnerable and lost, than when your Wi-Fi is down.  It's like your whole world has come crashing down, because you can no  longer scroll through Facebook, Tumblr, yada yada ya. I miss fantasizing  over Dylan O'Brien gifs already, and it's only been fifteen minutes.

                This must be fixed.

                I had  come home from weekend Volleyball practise in a foul mood, with aching  muscles and a raging headache, only to find out that my Wi-Fi was going  to have an epileptic fit and not produce the goodies for me—aka. Three  bars of service.

                Austin  seemed to be struggling also, according to the moaning and groaning  coming from the lounge room and the sobbing that doesn't seem to stop.  With no Wi-Fi, means nada Xbox Live. No Xbox Live, means distraught  Austin. Distraught Austin, means temper tantrums.

                Teenage boys.

                I  stomped my way over to next door, Nate's house, whose front door was  unlocked and asking for me to come in and steal the Wi-Fi. Nate's pissy  mother had changed the password because she knew that I was using it,  hence the reason why they would always go over their plan.

                Whoops?

                I tried  calling out for Nate downstairs, but he was nowhere in sight. I frowned,  walking up the stairs that lead to the hallway where Nate's bedroom is  situated. Silence in Nate's house can mean only two things.

a)      Nobody is home

b)      Someone is planning something

                I have a  feeling it's more along the lines of the latter. "Nate you bitch!" I  call out, hoping that he might be able to hear my cries for help. I'm  surprised I haven't broken down in tears yet, this separation anxiety is  really getting to me.

                I hesitated before opening Nate's door. What could he be doing? I hope nothing isn't going on, if you know what I mean.

                Unfortunately, my poor virgin eyes were tainted.

                "Oh for  turtles sake," I cover my eyes, gagging at the sight I was face to face  with. "Tell me the Wi-Fi password and I will leave you two to your  business."

                Needless  to say, I caught Nate and Emily in a compromising position. No, I'm not  against sex or anything, in fact, I'm purely okay with it—but not when  I'm looking.

                I'm not a prude, and I know that Emily isn't either, but the sight is still a shocker.

                Nothing is worse than seeing your two best friends going at it. Nothing

                "Redroses1," Nate screeches, "Now leave woman!"

                Well, at  least I got one thing out of that. I type the password into my iPhone,  and it immediately accepts it. "Wooohoo," I squeal in excitement,  "Thanks Nate, you're a legend." Then I realize what happened, and I  quickly ran the other direction.

                My poor,  poor virgin eyes. I think they've been tainted so much, that you can't  even class them as virgin anymore. Oh god. This is the day I lost my eye  virginity.

                This will be a story to tell Meownce when I get home.

                I  quickly cross the footpath to go back to my house, shivering as my bare  feet hit the cold pavement. I had left the house looking like a hobo  today in my finest sweatpants and a ridiculously comfy but heinous  jumper that looked like Meownce had attacked it. She hadn't, but it is  that old that I'm surprised I still fit in it.

                "Austin," I scream as loud as I can when I walk through the door. "Get dressed, I want to go out for lunch."

                I'm  really craving a juicy healthy salad. Just kidding, I want nuggets. Lots  and lots of unhealthy nuggets. I'm having these weird cravings  lately—I'm not pregnant, 'it's just a phase', gosh—and just want to eat  everything within vision.

                Austin  replies with a groan, but I can hear his sliding doors opening with such  force they slam against the sides of the wall with a loud bang. Geez,  anger issues, much?

                I  quickly escape from my hobo clothes, and throw on a nicer pair of black  sweatpants and a thick red woollen sweater. It is too early to dress  nicely—even though it is 11am. I put on my converses, tying the laces  quickly which only resulted in my tying huge knots. They would have to  do though; because the Diner's amazing nuggets are calling my name. I  quickly send a text to Tyler, asking if he wants to eat some nuggets  with me, and then throw my hair up into an unflattering messy bun.

                No  matter how much I've tried, I can never master the art of intentionally  messy buns. I either look like I've been through a tornado, or it sags  within five minutes and starts to resemble an old grandma's boob.

                The struggles are real.

                I'll be over in five, Tyler replies to me with. I internally giggle, mainly thinking about how Austin is going to be the major third wheel.

                "Hurry  up doodledick," I snap at Austin who seems to be taking his sweet time. I  had gotten dressed and ready in ten minutes, while he was still  'styling his hair'. I have a feeling it is because of the new worker at  the Diner. Yeah, he's probably got a huge crush on her.

                Better tell her that, just to make her more nervous at the job than she already is.

                "Calm  your tatas," Austin hisses as he tries to assemble his hair in a 'messy  but attractive' way. He's failing—miserably. It just looks like he's  spent heaps of time curling it, but brushed it out and it had gotten  frizzy and poofy.

                How hard  is it for a guy to do their hair? I always thought they just woke up  and brushed their teeth, threw on yesterday's clothes and off they go.

                Austin  cares for his appearance, but is never in the bathroom longer than me.  The one time he spent a poopload of time in there, was when I was  plucking his eyebrows for him. He had the lowest pain tolerance that day  and would try and hit me every time I plucked a hair out.

                That was a fun day.

                Ten  minutes later, Austin and I were in my mother's car with the heater  cranked, waiting for Tyler to make his royal appearance.

                Finally,  King Tyler himself decided to grace us with his royal presence, to  which I rolled my eyes at. And I thought I took a long time in the  bathroom.

                "Get in loser; we're going on a chicken nugget spree."

                I obviously taught my brother the tricks of the trade.