Never Always Sometimes - Adi Alsaid Page 0,19

eyes landed on her, she looked up at him. She smiled at him—

all lips, though, no imperfect lower teeth—and raised her hand in a

wave.

He raised his hand up and mouthed hello, hoping she’d somehow

missed his hair. Which, of course, she hadn’t.

“Wow. What happened there?”

His stomach clenched as he took a seat next to her. “I know, I

know.”

68 NEVER ALWAYS SOMETIMES

“That couldn’t have been by choice.”

“I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known it would end up looking

like . . .” He motioned with his hands, pointing at the hair and trying

to find a word that accurately described the fiasco sitting on his head.

“Like a wound festering in the eighteenth century before antibiotics

were discovered?”

“That’s very specific. But yes.”

Gretchen smiled wide. She was in a simple white T-shirt and jeans,

the beige sneakers that, he’d noticed lately, she wore most days. Dave

felt his face flush and hoped she’d get called up to get her haircut

soon, so she wouldn’t have time to memorize what he looked like. He

didn’t know what to say, but was saved from a comment by a blow-

dryer that went off nearby. Dave tried to seem casual as he looked

around the Supercuts—two other guys waiting for their turn were on

their phones, a woman sat with tinfoil in her hair reading a magazine,

an old lady had one of those silver dome things over her head—but

his eyes kept flicking back toward Gretchen. She kept her book on

her lap, picked at a split end, smiled at him whenever their eyes would

meet, looked away as shyly as he did.

“Sorry I haven’t talked to you in class this week,” Dave said once

the hair dryer stopped. “I kept wanting to. But the more I thought

about it, the more the other night at the Kapoors’ felt like a dream

and I wasn’t really sure it happened. It did happen, right?”

Gretchen brought her book up to her face like she was smelling it,

but Dave had the notion that she was just trying to hide a smile. He

could see it in her eyes. “It happened,” she said.

DAVE 69

“Okay.” Dave watched as a woman came in with her baby stroller

and argued about the wait for an appointment. “I’m gonna talk to you

in class, is what I’m trying to say,” Dave said, feeling strange that he had the urge to tell her such a thing. “If you’re okay with that.”

“Good. You can help me improve my prank skills.”

“You really feel strongly about keeping a straight face, huh?”

Gretchen shrugged and crossed her feet at her ankles. “I’ve got two

older brothers. I was the butt of too many jokes when I was younger,

and now I’m basically bitter at life and seeking revenge.”

“You sound really bitter.”

“Good, that’s the whole shtick I’m going for.” She motioned the

length of her body, as if she was clearly exuding bitterness, as if she

was dripping with anything other than sweetness.

Whoa. Where did that thought come from?

“It’s working,” Dave said, and the two of them smiled at each other

for a second until Gretchen was called up by one of the stylists. He

watched her lean her head back into the shampooing faucet and close

her eyes as the water washed over her blond locks. She played with

the book in her hands, flipping the cover over. Her nails were flecked

with baby-blue polish.

Dave waited for his turn, trying not to get caught looking in

Gretchen’s direction as she got a trim. The two guys waiting next to

him were still on their phones, occasionally glancing up at his hair.

Dave was pretty sure one of them took a photo while pretending

to search for a signal. But the embarrassment he’d felt only a few

moments ago had faded some.

70 NEVER ALWAYS SOMETIMES

When it was his turn, the only open spot was once again right

next to Gretchen. She was reading and this time she didn’t notice

him right away. The hair stylist—tall, black, wearing a tight shirt that showed off his sleek muscles—draped one of those protective sheets

over Dave and then Velcroed it at the back. “What are we doing with

this?” He asked, bravely running a hand through Dave’s hair.

“For the love of God, take it all off.”

“Wise choice,” the stylist said. He grabbed an electric razor from

his tools on the counter. “You kids never learn to let a professional

do it.”

Gretchen stopped reading and smiled at Dave through the mirror.

Dave had never understood why people associated cheekbones with

beauty, but now that he noticed Gretchen’s, he got it. “You should

save all of the hair in a bag,” Gretchen said. “I don’t know exactly what you’d do with it, but there’s a prank in there