Land of Confusion // Genesis

"Hey, April, can you grab some fresh towels and start a new load?"

My mom doesn't wait thirty seconds after I walk into the salon to request something from me. I don't think she noticed the fact that I was stomping my feet from the back door to the break room to drop off my bag. To be fair, I'm usually stomping my feet so I guess she wouldn't notice the difference today.

Because today I'm not stomping my feet in anger at the a holes of the world who blindly believe every rumor told by the people with the power. Today I'm stomping them because I'm mad at myself.

"Sure thing. Give me a second."

The words I use are fine but I admit, my voice holds all of the frustration in my body and aims it at my unsuspecting mom. I would feel guilty but after all, she's the one who orchestrated this whole move from one hellhole to the other and agreed to the shop class fiasco.

"By the way, April, I got an email from the exchange student who will be staying with us. She'll be here next Friday!"

Ah crap. I forgot about that part of the deal. Instead of moaning my disapproval, I wisely keep my mouth shut. I'm sure that anymore attitude from me will be met with consequences. I really don't need any more consequences in my life. Sometimes even when you've done the right thing, the consequences aren't worth it. I'm already living that dream. Nightmare. Whatever. Doing what I knew was right is what started the rumors that have torn me down.

I go about starting up the load of dirty towels and fold the clean ones before taking a few to my mom's station. She's on her feet all day cutting hair, something she said she always wanted to do growing up. I'm not sure Mom thinks she's living the dream but one thing she can say about her life is she did what she'd always wanted to do.

"Here you go," I say as I add the towels to a shelf next to her station in the salon. I force myself to use a neutral tone because although I'm not angry with her right now, I have been. Although I am angry at myself right now for getting sucked in by that line spewing grease monkey, part of me is mad because I wouldn't even be in the position I am if my mom hadn't pulled strings to get the district to move me.

I'm so irritated that Nico looked proud of how I stood up to the douchy guy who keeps telling me to park in the back lot. I'm more irritated that I liked that look of pride on his face. It's been a long time since anyone was proud of me other than my mom. But pride in how I've handled straight up bullying for the last few months is not exactly on my wish list. It's a problem to solve, something to survive, not celebrate. While her pride in my character is appreciated, I'd kind of rather have normal situations to stew over and be a brat about, instead of this insurmountable shit storm of hormonal revenge.

Thanks a lot, high-school-crush-turned-bully, Craig. He's the one I should be hunting down and screaming at. But he's not around and I don't want to be the stereotypical teenager who bitches at her single mom for all of her problems. Today. So I suck it up and smile instead.

"Thanks, honey. The floor could use a pass with the broom."

"Right on it." I actually don't mind sweeping up hair that much because there's a built-in suction device near the back of the room. All I have to do is sweep the hair over to it and the stuff disappears inside. Kind of satisfying in a soothing way, come to think of it. What I do dislike is emptying the bag that stashes all of the hair. Disgusting.

I'm sweeping over near the hair dryers where one older woman is stationed. Her hair is in foil wraps and she's reading a magazine. The woman lifts her feet as I approach so I push the broom quickly under them without making eye contact.

"Now that's a statement," the woman says loudly, not realizing her volume under the whir of the dryer.

My gaze snaps to her with a frown. "What is?"

She lifts one perfectly manicured boney finger and points at my hair. "Quite a color choice, dear. I don't think I could pull it off in my circles. Bold. Daring." She winks at me.

I shrug in indifference but feel anything but in my gut. I hate statements about my appearance that can be interpreted in more than one way. Bold and daring could be compliments, or it could be her way of saying 'too outrageous' passively. If she couldn't pull off this hot pink color I am known for in her circles, is she saying I'm not good enough for said circle? I hate the sudden insecurity I'm filled with after her comments, so I turn away from her and continue sweeping.

"You remind me of my younger self. Always pushing the boundaries and smiling at the results." Her tone sounds wistful, but I find myself whipping around to stare her down.

"Pink tips aren't exactly earth shattering in this day and age." It's the nicest version of what I wanted to say but I like having a job at this salon so I don't let the truth leave my lips.

I'm not sure she hears me at first but then I observe as she nods with a tight smile, once again looking down at her magazine. "Sometimes the subtle statements leave the biggest impression, dear." The older woman lifts her eyes without moving another muscle, sending some kind of silent signal to me. I must be too dumb to get her nonverbal cue because she rolls her eyes and looks at me straight on.

"I may look pulled together these days, but I was a fighter back when. I recognize that spark in you, someone who won't be held back. Someone who scoffs at expectations and does the opposite."

Ah, the old lady can see right through me. I guess I'm not so mysterious after all. I just shrug once again and turn to sweep on the opposite side of the room, sliding closer to the suction device. I push the pile of hair over to the opening and watch as the sensor kicks on and the hair disappears.

I put the broom back in the storage closet and turn around to find the woman watching me.

"What?" The word leaves my mouth without a single thought. I don't mean to be rude, but it's become a natural side effect of allowing my inner bitch out too many hours a day. Self-preservation for the win.

"I think I admire you." She's once again shouting over the hair dryer even though I can hear her just fine. I'm sure the entire salon can hear her.

"I know I do!" comes shouted from the front of the salon, confirming my suspicions.

"Mothers don't count." I reply suddenly wanting all of the attention off of me.

The woman's dryer shuts off, the timer hitting a ding. She presses the button to raise the dryer then stands up and brushes out the wrinkles of her skirt. I find myself wondering what her name is as I take in her expensive outfit and designer purse. Claudia? Maybe Mauve. Something rich sounding I'm sure.

"Mother's count the most. After all, they're the ones that know their child the best." Maybe Mauve steps closer to me by a couple of feet, then reaches into her purse. She pulls out a little card and hands it to me. "Here. This is my contact information. I'd like to talk more with you over tea sometime if you'd be willing."

I look down at her card and frown once again. Not Mauve. Gladys Monroe. It doesn't scream filthy rich like her purse does, but what do I know. I shrug and pocket the card.

"I'll check my schedule."

Gladys smiles at me before heading back to the stylist who's been calling her over. I turn away back to the washing machine and pull out the now clean towels, toss them into the dryer and start it up. I wipe down the back room where the colorants are mixed and tidy up the shelves where the bottles are stored. I try to keep my mind on the trivial mundane tasks but that's the problem with mundane tasks; they don't occupy your mind.

Instead, my brain replays the words of the older woman, how I scoff at expectations. How I do my own thing. Is a little hot pink on the tips of my hair that much of a dead giveaway? And then she said she admired me, a woman who knows nothing about me other than how I look. I remember Nico's look of pride when I acted out just as Gladys described me. I remember the scowl on Craig's face when I turned him down, right after he broke my heart.

The girl that Nico and Gladys seem to see in me hasn't been around much lately. And I want her back. I'm not ready for a Nico in my life. But a Gladys...that might be a good place to start.

As I'm cleaning stations at the end of the day, I pause where Gladys was having her hair done earlier. Shaylyn, the stylist who worked on her, is wrapping up for the night. I take the opportunity to do a little digging.

"What do you know about that woman from earlier, Gladys?" I ask without making eye contact. I don't want to seem nosy, more like curious.

Shaylyn shrugs. "Not much. She's a newer client but she's lived in the area forever, from what I can tell. She mentioned that she wasn't fond of the clientele at her former salon so she decided to give us a try. She seems happy. Tips well. But she doesn't talk about herself much. She mostly asks questions about me."

I'm not sure what to think, but the fact that she's more interested in Shaylyn than talking about herself does say something.

"Why do you ask?"

I look up at Shaylyn to find her smirking at me. I pull out the card Gladys gave me and show her.

"She asked me to have tea with her sometime. I was just wondering if she was one of those eccentric older woman who lure people in to talk and then keep them there for hours showing them cat pictures and trying to knit them an afghan."

Shaylyn laughs. "Who does that?" She shakes her head and returns to her end-of-day clean up. "Gladys is harmless. It would be nice for her to have someone to tea. She probably is lonely. I think her husband passed away a few years ago. But she's very normal, no cat pictures or strange knitting that I can tell. You should take her up on it."

I pocket the card once again and move to the next station to sanitize it. "Maybe. We'll see." That's as much of a commitment as I'm willing to make out loud. But who knows. Depending on how my study session with Nico goes, I might need that tea talk sooner than later.

The thought of meeting with Nico tomorrow makes me a little sick to my stomach. I don't want to be alone with him for any extended period of time. There's a very good chance that those stupid pickup lines will cease to sound stupid and I will be in big trouble if they do.

The night wraps up. Mom heads home and so do I. My 'Stang putters the entire way home but at least there's no black smoke pouring out from the exhaust. I should pay for some repairs and tuning up but I have such a hard time parting with money. I've been saving every penny I can for the time when I can finally leave. I know my mom has figured that much out. She sees how I pinch pennies whenever possible. If I fix up my car, I will delay leaving town for longer than I can stand.

But I know something's got to be done.

And now I'm thinking of Nico with his head under the hood and his greasy hands wrapped up in an engine. Maybe he'd be willing to help me out. I'm sure he's more than capable, but I can't image he'd do it for nothing.

My stomach flips again, because suddenly the words of that rumor rush through my mind. How I'm in shop class with all guys and now I want one of them to help me with my car. What kind of story would that generate? I can't handle more lies spread about me, especially because the old ones followed me to Jefferson. If Nico's heard the rumors, he might think I'm asking for some kind of exchange.

Oh god, I can't ask him for that. I can't go through that again. I'll just have to suffer with a broken-down Mustang for a little longer. I've certainly put up with worse.

Yeah, so...in the middle of the week I had a spark that this chapter should have been first in part 5 and Nico's should have followed. It makes more sense in the next part to have them in reverse order here. After a while, I might flip them here on Wattpad but I don't want to interrupt anyone's reading if I do. Such a dilema!!

What do you think of Gladys and that whole exchange? She will show up again but I'm not exactly sure when...I do have some ideas ;-) So sorry for posting so late! I usually like to post over my lunch break but alas, not today. And doesn't this song title ring so true in these days??? Land of confusion is where I've been living for sure!

https://youtu.be/spnumcvpyoU