The Wrong Path - By Vivian Marie Aubin du Paris Page 0,2

Her looks, strong personality, and sharp tongue made her a natural leader. It had been Claire who had introduced herself to Annabelle at the country club years earlier, inviting her to hang out the next day. Annabelle would always be grateful to her for that. “I’ve got the IDs in my room at home. Adam dropped them off yesterday, and they look great.”

There were quiet cheers of excitement from the girls. Annabelle tried to picture her and her friends getting dressed up and going out to a club to go dancing, but the idea was just so foreign she couldn’t imagine it. She, Annabelle, at sixteen, was actually going to go to a club with her friends.

The club, which was having its opening night next Friday, was advertised as having two floors, with five different rooms all playing different types of music. As soon as Mary found out about it and told them about it at lunch one day, Claire had set about trying to get them fake IDs, and Claudia had produced one of her college boys that had a contact. The next thing Annabelle knew, they were all giving Claudia money to pay for the fake IDs with a promise of having them in time for the club opening.

“Annabelle?”

She looked up quickly at the voice that called her name, and smiled at the familiar face of her stylist. She’d been going to the same woman since the girls had started bringing her to the salon, unlike the others, who didn’t seem to care who did their hair. But Carrie did her hair just the way she liked it, and she trusted her.

She stood, bid her friends goodbye, and smiled at Carrie as she was led to the back. “So what’re we going to do today?” Carrie asked, as they walked by freshly styled women on their way out of the salon. Annabelle lingered a moment to watch them, unable to tear her eyes away. She loved watching women walk out of the salon. They always looked beautiful, as if having their hair done had breathed new life into them. If Annabelle could, she would come to the salon every day to have her hair done.

“Just a trim,” she requested, lightly fingering the ends of her hair, which had grown slightly past her shoulders. She knew from the other girls that Trevor liked girls with shoulder-length hair, so she diligently kept her hair at the same length, getting regular trims to keep it in shape.

“Sounds good,” Carrie agreed cheerfully, even though Annabelle never asked for anything different. She spun the chair for Annabelle to sit down in.

As she slid in, listening to Carrie’s upbeat chatter, answering when appropriate, she wondered if it was difficult to be a hairdresser, pretending to be interested in what the people in her chair were saying. Maybe she really was interested—Carrie was in her mid-twenties, pretty, and appeared to be genuinely happy every time Annabelle saw her. When Annabelle spoke, she listened encouragingly.

An hour later, Carrie proudly set down her styling tools. Annabelle looked at her reflection in the mirror, taking in her shoulder-length light brown hair curled into large waves. Her blue eyes were bright, as if new life had been breathed into her, just like the rest of the women in the salon.

She thanked Carrie and went to pay with her credit card. Her mom had given it to her on the condition every purchase was either discussed with her before it was made or never totaled more than three-hundred dollars per month. It was much less than her friends were given—Claire could spend as much as she wanted each month, and Claudia had a cap of a thousand dollars per month—but as envious as she was of her friend’s unlimited amount, she felt good about having her own card. She was, after all, more blessed than many other people, a fact her parents never hesitated to point out to her.

“It looks great,” she heard a voice say as someone approached on her right. She turned quickly, smiling brightly at Claire’s compliment. Claire’s shiny blond hair hung straight down her back, making her look like a model.

“Thanks,” she said, pleased. “You, too. But you always look great.”

Claire grinned, her blue eyes sparkling. “What would I do without you, Annabelle?” she laughed, placing her credit card down on the counter to pay for her cut.

They sat around and gossiped for a while, until everyone but Mary had finished and paid for their styles.