Student Spectrums

It was strange how my dad said I couldn’t do certain things just because I was a girl. To be honest, I get his side of the story, but it feels controlling. I can’t go outside alone, and if I do, I can’t go too far.

“You don’t need to be wandering around like that. You’re not a boy,” he said the last time I did.

I’m not allowed to play games unless my mom lets me, occasionally. I can’t do many things that girls my age are doing.

That’s why I always go to Cora’s house, my best friend. Her dad was mostly at work, and her mom wouldn’t care what we did unless it was something drastic. I loved staying there, because it felt like something close to freedom. Thankfully, my parents would let me go to Cora’s house, since they knew each other well.

Cora was the same height as me, the same age, yet we were quite opposite. Cora was louder, funnier, the bubbly type. I was quiet, serious, and I suppose sarcastic, according to her. She had green eyes; mine were dark gray. She had long, brown hair, and mine was black and short.

When I was dropped off at her house today, Cora hit me with a surprise—she had dyed her hair with streaks of blond.

“That looks amazing,” I said, because it truly did. The streaks looked good in her hair, the blonde complementing her face even more. I raised an eyebrow.

“When did that happen?”

Cora laughed, grabbed my arm, and dragged me inside.

“Today, Rae. I did it myself!”

I just stared at her.

“You did? But when? You were at school, and I didn’t see that… did you do it right now?” I needed permission to walk past the mailbox, and here this idiot was dyeing streaks of her hair on a random Monday.

She laughed some more, nodding.

“Yeah, an hour ago when I came home from school. I bought some dye online a couple of days ago, and I just wanted to try it. Maybe you should, too?”

She questioned, and I immediately tensed at the thought.

“No way. My dad will kill me if I dye my hair.”

And as if on cue, my phone started ringing in my pocket. I snatched it out, and there was my dad, calling me.

“Don’t say a word, Cor,” I warned, somewhat seriously.

I picked up the call, expecting him to scold me for being at Cora’s house again.

“Hello? Dad?”

His low and steady voice filled my ears, clearing his throat first.

“Voronyonok, your mother and I are going out. We’ll pick you up at… devyat’ chasov. Don’t do anything tupóye, voronyonok.”

I sighed. Typical russian dad, though I think mine was too much.

“Da, okay.”

“Khorosho. And your mother says do your homework.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes, and Cor covered her mouth, laughing in the back.

“Yes, sir,” I mocked. He used to be a general in the military. “I won’t forget.”

“Okay. Take care.” He grunted, cutting the call.

Cor started laughing out loud, and I couldn’t help but grin a bit.

“Shut up, Cor.”

“What did he even say? He’s always angry,” she said between giggles.

“That he is going to pick me up at nine, and to do nothing stupid.”

“Oh, we would never.”

She laughs again, walking inside her house, her shoes making soft sounds on the wooden floor. I followed, taking off my shoes. I wasn’t used to wearing shoes in the house; I didn’t know how she did it. Then her mom walked in wearing a bathrobe, slippers, and a face mask.

“Oh, Raven. Hello, darling.”

She pulled me into a hug, and I stood there awkwardly, mumbling a greeting, letting her crush me for a moment. I looked at Cor, silently begging her to save me. I hated hugs. She grinned, then patted her mom’s shoulder.

“Come on, Mom. Let her go, I’m gonna dye her hair too.”

I laughed a bit, uncertain.

“Oh, right. Okay, off you go.”

She let go of me, ruffling my hair, then walked away into her bedroom.

“You’re gonna dye my hair?” I looked at Cor, a bit nervous. My dad would certainly never let me see her lovely face again.

“He said to do nothing stupid, and this is pretty much near it.”

“Yeah, so what? You’re dads gonna have to deal with it.”

I protested, or tried.

“Cor, you know how he—”

“Raven, grow up,” she suddenly glared at me, frustrated. “You can’t keep letting him control your life.” She interrupts, annoyed. “You’re freaking 16, for God’s sake.”

Her mood swings always seemed to surprise me, but I was somewhat used to them by now.

“Yeah, but—”

“But what, Rae? He needs to let you live.”

She softens, reaching out to hold my shoulder. I was uncertain of what my father would do if he found out about this. I hesitated for a moment, feeling her hand squeeze my shoulder. Then I slowly nodded. She was right, even though I may as well be signing my death warrant.

“Fine. Yeah, let’s dye my hair.”

I looked up at her, watching the smile form across her pink lips.

“Good choice! Come on, I have everything we need,”

She grabbed my hand, excited, practically dragging me into her room.

“I watched sooo many videos on dyeing hair. Mine was easy to do.”

I sighed. This was going to be a long day.

As we walked into her room, I noticed the mess—my dad would never let me have my room in this state. Her bed was untidy with a blanket on top of the pillows, bedsheets ruffled, with clothes and other things all over the floor. I spotted her house keys somewhere on her bed, remembering that she had lost them two days ago. I reached into my pocket and felt my own keys, just in case.

Cor guided me towards her cushy chair, in front of her vanity mirror, making me sit on it. Her desk was also a mess: hair dye all over, a wet brush, water, and a towel.

“Your room is a mess, Cor,”

“Yeah, I’ll clean it up.” She muttered dismissively, ruffling my hair around, officially slipping into hairstylist mode. I watched through the mirror as she slipped on gloves and prepared the dye. Then, she dug into her drawer and pulled out a speaker. I watched as she connected it to her phone, then played a random song by Lana Del Ray.

It wasn’t really my type of music, but it was tolerable. I put up a lot of things about her, mainly because she was my best friend. And almost like a younger sister—she was several months younger than me.

“What color?” She interrupted my thoughts.

“Whatever suits me…?” I didn’t know, honestly. She looked at my hair, lost in thought.

“Maybe silver?”

I shrugged.

“If it looks good, go for it.”

She nodded, and I decided to trust her in this. I watched as she picked up the brush, as if preparing for a serious mission. Well, this was kind of a mission. And the outcome was that I was either never going to see her face again—or, miraculously, my dad would be okay with it. Which had a one percent chance of happening.

She slowly applied it to my scalp, making me shiver. It was cold. I sat still, watching her apply the dye to more strands. She looked so focused, her green eyes fixated on my hair, applying the dye. Every now and then, she would pause, tilt her head, and look at my hair, then continue applying the dye onto my strands, as if she were seriously into this.

“You sure this is gonna work?” I questioned.

“Yeah. The packet says it ‘works on all hair types.’” She looked at the box, nodding.

“Yeah, it’ll work.”

I nodded, sighing. Lana Del Ray’s voice slowly started fading away as I started running all the possible reactions in my head on what my father will say when he sees me.

Is he going to yell? He surely would never let me hang out with Cor again. Would he forgive me? He had never raised his hand on me; he never needed to, cause I’d always listen. But would he this time? I was cooked, as Cor would say.

Cor’s life was so much better than mine in so many ways. I couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous, then guilty. I mean, it wasn’t her fault. Her parents were different from mine; her entire race was different from mine. She was American, while I’m a Russian.

After an hour or so, she had wrapped the dyed streaks in my hair in foil, then stretched, sighing.

“Now, we’ve gotta wait for it to sit in.”

“You’re surprisingly good at this.”

“I told you I watched ten videos. Besides, you just needed someone to break the rules for you.” She smirks, then starts singing along to the music, another random song from her playlist.