American Vacanza

madison two point oh • madison

We got out of the hotel right when the sun cracked over the horizon, but not for the reason my sister was hoping. I had something in mind - not a museum, believe it or not - that would take a substantial amount of time, and we had been hoping to make it to the plane by tonight.

I fished my dad and stepmom's note out of my purse and handed it to Siena. "You wanted to see this?"

She held it close to her face, her eyes running back and forth. "Yeah. It says here that two hours before we get to New York, we call the number at the bottom and they'll start to prep the plane for our flight."

Two hours' notice, any time of day? How awesome were my dad's jet people? I guess that's what you get when you own a companies that modernized today's technology as we know it.

"Perfect." I grabbed a ChapStick from the cup holder (where'd that come from? I felt like ChapStick always just appeared. You never actually bought it.) and applied it to my lips as I steered the car with one hand.

I pulled over to the next exit and got off the highway, puzzling Siena. "Um, where are we going?" she said in monotone, being extra cautious. "This better not be a museum."

"I knew you were going to say that." Didn't I? I parked the car in front of a small salon (or, as the charming, vintage-striped old awning said, beauty parlor) and stepped out, opening Siena's door for her chauffeur-style.

"What is this? Is this some kind of tourist trap, like a clown salon or something?" she asked, one eyebrow raised. I just let my facial features go limp and stared at her with stone-cold eyes.

"We're at a hair salon. What do you think I'm doing?"

Seriously, if you haven't figured it out by now, you need to work on your reading comprehension skills.

We walked in and were greeted by the overpowering chemical scent of hairspray and keratin treatments. An overly smiley receptionist greeted us at the granite desk. "Can I help you?"

"Yes," I replied, but then turned to Siena. "You can just sit down over there." After she was seated in a cube-shaped black leather chair that didn't look very comfortable, I turned back to the receptionist, who smiled slyly.

"Last night I made an appointment under Madison Ray? For a cut and color?" I say, smiling sweetly at the woman. She's got long, acrylic nails and blonde hair, dark at the roots.

"Of course, sweetie. What are you looking to do today?" Was it a requirement for the job of receptionist to have extremely straight and white teeth? Because every receptionist, clerk, or front desk person I'd met on this trip - aside from the crackhead motel owners- had a thousand-watt smile.

I ran my finger through my hair self-consciously.

I could practically see Siena's jaw dropping, even if she was sitting behind me and I couldn't literally see her.

She gave me a smile that seemed apologetic enough, but it was more like, I'm kind of glad you're getting out of my salon because you scare me anyway. "I'm sorry," she replied. "We only have natural-colored hair dye."

It was a rare occurrence when I could prove someone wrong who judged me on my appearance, much less a stranger, and I was determined to make this woman feel as awkward as possible. "Well," I simpered, looking her directly in the dark brown eyes, "that's good. Because I'm dying it back to my natural color, brown. I was just sick of people judging me based on this hair color. You know?"

She nodded quickly. She got my point, so she replied, "Of course, of course. That'll be $80. Are you a returning customer?"

"Nah," I replied, handing her my credit card. "And if you're going to give me some sort of member sheet or something, just skip it. I live in California, so it's very unlikely that I'll be coming here again."

She gave me the required smile again, but I could see the hate in her eyes. I was one of those annoying customers people always told stories about, and I loved it. I felt special.

"Okay then," she said, taking a deep breath. "Mel will take you in the fourth chair on the left."

A man with spiky, wood-colored hair and diamonds in his ears waved at me, flashing the same blinding smile that the woman at the front desk had given me. When I sat in the chair, he said in a nasal voice, "So, brunette, eh? I couldn't help overhearing you and Jennifer over there. Anyway, what shade were you thinking?"

Mel thrust a binder with probably a hundred shades of brown into my lap. I wanted it to look exactly how it did before I dyed it... but then again, it was kind of mousy and boring. Should I have gone lighter? Darker?

In the end, I just chose the color that looked the closest to my brunette roots, even though it was annoyingly plain. "Do you think you could, you know," I stammered, "make it a little less boring? Like with highlights or something?"

"Darling," he replied, "I am the master of hair color. No color is boring when I'm the one doing it. Just trust me."

As he went to prepare the dye, I sat in the chair, biting my nails. I wanted to look normal again. I didn't want to be anything but ordinary, but then again, I didn't really want to be TOO ordinary, right?

He came back and started putting my hair in clips, then in foil. "You are going to look SO good," he mused as he wrapped my hair.

Just then, Siena walked over. "You know, you can't keep this secret. I figured out that you were dying your hair as soon as we walked in."

Mel's mouth was wide. "Is this your friend?" he drawled. "She's ah-dooorable."

"Thank you." Siena blushed, though it was nothing more than a compliment. Mel was older than us, and besides... he was wearing a pink shirt and gold leopard print jeans.

"Anyway," she continued, "I think that what you're doing is really awesome. Imagine how surprised Mom and, um, your dad, are going to be."

"I won't judge if you say Mom and Dad," I said. "You don't have to keep dancing around that subject. I mean, I sometimes say Mom, even though I don't, and will never, not even if the world was on fire--"

"Wrap it up," she instructed.

"Right. Anyway, I refer to her as my 'mom', because she's my mother figure, I guess. I might hate her with all my being, but I can at least tell other people she's my mom for the sake of clarity."

"I'm just going to pretend you didn't just insult the woman who gave birth to me and raised me, thank you very much," Siena said, strained. We'd been on such good terms lately, and neither of us wanted to jeopardize that; but we still didn't know how to handle it when we got into fights like this.

"So, wait," Mel asked, looking down at us. "Are you guys sisters that hate your parents?"

"Stepsisters," I clarified, sighing. You were expecting some sort of cheesy moment where I talk about us being sisters at heart and all of that? Hell no! We were technically stepsisters, and if I told Mel she was just my sister, he would have been confused.

Besides, I didn't want to have an even worse reputation at this salon than I already did. Siena eventually went back to her seat, and soon after, Mel took off the foil.

It feels so weird, and kind of childish to say, but I had to do a double take when I looked in the mirror, because for the first second, I didn't realize the girl staring back at me.

It was Madison, the old Madison. She was back, but better; Mel wasn't kidding when he said I would look good. He'd trimmed my hair a little past shoulder-length, and it looked choppy, but in the chic way, not the rebellious way. His magic touch had given me wheat-colored highlights, which made my ordinary brown hair stand out in no way it ever had.

It was as if I'd been upgraded into a better version of myself, the normal version that wouldn't freak out on her stepsister or collapse into tears after dumping her boyfriend. How had I forgotten how beautiful I was as a brunette? Had the pink dye seeped in to my brain or something? But I didn't care. There was a new Madison in town, and she was here to stay.

A/N

y'all I never ever ever do this but I just discovered this new app called Mercari, it's kind of like eBay but like just for clothes and makeup pretty much. it's way cheaper too! if you sign up using my code FQTNMQ, you get $2 to spend. anyway, I don't want to be that person but it's just such a cool app and I wanted to reward you all for reading hit the road :)