This is my first short story, and it actually ties in with my novel. All feedback is welcome. Enjoy!
My mother finished washing out the dye in my hair, coating the sink with a golden blonde paste, but something seemed odd about the color. It had a slight silver tint, but I couldn’t figure out why as my mother took out her hair drier, spinning the chair around so I couldn’t see into the mirror. Warm air hit my face as she turned the hair drier on, and I closed my eyes, letting it warm my face up. When she finally turned it off, I opened my eyes to see her take out a purple brush. As she began brushing through my hair, something felt entirely wrong. It was as if my hair was tangled everywhere. My mother tried to get the knots out, but she only made it worse.
I reached up to touch my hair and covered a gasp with my hand. My hair felt like a thin layer of rust coated it. I turned around in horror to look into the mirror. A silver paste sat upon my hair, reminding me of a liquid metal. Yanking the brush out of my mother’s hand, I ran out of the bathroom, tears streaming down my face. “I’m so sorry, honey. We can fix it, I promise,” my mother called after me, but I didn’t believe her. I dashed to my room as fast as I could, but as I reached the living room, my three brothers blocked the hallway leading to it. I skidded to stop, as they smirked at me and began laughing. With my hairbrush in my hand, I realized why.
The oldest of my brothers, Hunter, stalked forward, zipping up his black fleece jacket. I took a step backward, glancing back at the front door, but as I dashed for it, he grabbed me. “Look at her,” he said to my other brothers, “She looks like she rubbed her hair against dad’s rusty car.” All of my brothers laughed at me, and I struggled to break free of Hunter’s grasp. He threw me backwards into my other brother, Matt, who was just as short as me, but much bigger and stronger than me. Matt pushed me back towards Hunter, and then I went back and forth between the three, unable to break loose.
“Mom should really take you to the car wash,” Matt said as he shoved my back as hard as he could, sending me to the ground. My knees hit the tan carpet first, then my hands. My knee burned with extreme pain, and the skin peeking out of my jeans turned bright red. I sucked in the tears that begged to fall down my face, but I couldn’t let my brothers get to me.
When I finally caught my own breath, I glared back at Matt, looking at his matted appearance. His hair was tangled on a daily basis, and mud always coated his jeans and boots. A large hole sat on the shoulder of his white shirt, and underneath, his skin looked filthy. And they thought I looked bad. “Maybe Mom should hose you off in the back yard like Spike.” Spike wagged his tail on the couch to my left when he heard his name.
Matt clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white, “What did you just say?” He stepped forward, and I had to tilt my head backwards to look at him. “It’s not my fault you look so rusty.”
I grabbed a handful of hair in my hand, unsure of what to say. A tear slid down my cheek, and I bit my lip, wishing he would just disappear. He glared down at me, his dark brown eyes staring into my soul. Finally, I found the words to say, “Being rusty suits me.”
Matt was taken aback. He rolled his eyes and headed for the front door, my other brothers following after them. I couldn’t believe it had work, but ever since that day, they’ve called me Rusty. But I could care less because I’ve grown to love it.