Stare At Us Both

Wesley looked as if she was about to cry. At first, everyone had recognized her from the now infamous fall. But then, somebody pointed and yelled “Look at her hair!” The entire crowd burst into laughter. She hadn’t brought her hat, so she tried to cover her head with her hands, but it didn’t help.

“Come on,” I said firmly, grabbing her hand and pulling her out of Starbucks. By the time we got back to her car, she was crying. “Why do people have to stare like I’m some sort of freak?” she said between sobs. She sat in the back between Kevin and Joe, crying on Joe’s shoulder. I took the keys and began driving. I drove straight to the beauty supply store. I dragged Wes out of the car. She had no idea what I was doing. “Now,” I asked once we were inside, “do you want to dye your hair?”

“No, I love my hair, it’s just that nobody else does.”

“Well then,” I sighed, “to make you feel better, I’m just gonna have to dye my hair hot pink. People can stare at both of us.”

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