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