I hadn't let somebody wash my hair since my mother used to. I could vaguely remember the way her hands felt drenched in shampoo, caressing my scalp. I used to close my eyes and lean my head back into our kitchen sink, staring up at the ceiling with the smudge of a pancake we once flipped up there that had gotten stuck.

The lady worked skillfully at my hair, her gloved hands roughly scrubbing lavender scented shampoo into my scalp. She would rinse and repeat the process, but my focus zoned out because the sensation was far too relaxing. The warm water would splash into my eyes and the lady would mutter a distracted "sorry" but truthfully I couldn't care less, mainly because my eyes were already closed.

"Okay honey, go on and take a seat in the chair over there." The lady said, her voice laced with a thick southern accent. She gently placed a towel on my neck and gave me a tiny nudge. I shuffled over to the chair, already feeling my heart pace quicken with the fear of having to speak. I wrapped the fluffy pink towel tighter around my neck, letting my damp hair fall over it and dampen the towel in its' path.

I waited in the black salon-type chair, my feet dangling off the edge and my reflection staring back at me. Vera appeared behind me, a smile lingering on her lips. I raised my eyebrow.

"You're going to look so good once you're done," she said. "Oh, and you're also getting a manicure and some new clothes. I'm buying some for myself too, though, so don't worry. And the lady is coming over right now, so you can't argue with me because you're makeover is about to proceed." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and backed up a few feet, letting the southern accented lady stand behind me. I noticed Vera whisper in her ear.

"Dark brown?" The lady asked.

"Yeah. Not too noticeable, though. Just a little change."

"Okay. Any different style?"

"Make the tips blond. And some layers- oh yes, definitely some layers."

"Blond or ombré?"

"Definitely ombré."

"Alright."

All these decisions were being made for me, and in many ways I was so grateful for it that it made me upset. I would never be able to repay Vera for this. What she was doing do me was so wonderful that it almost felt unrealistic.

The lady instantly worked at my hair. She started cutting with specialized scissors, the snapping noise sounding oddly relaxing. She put some type of foil on the tips of my hair and added a liquid, then covered it up with more foil; a process I didn't question because she clearly knew what she was doing. Not that I would question, anyways.

She then blow-dried my hair and yanked at my knots with a different type of comb; a comb that actually hurt quite a bit but I suppressed my pained yelps by biting down on my bottom lip. Each strand of hair would be combed through and blow-dried at the same time, something I had never seen before.

When I was finally allowed off the chair because my hair was finished, I stretched out my legs and arms, with Vera sneaking pictures of me and claiming that I looked so "hot." I hadn't dared to look in the mirror yet. I didn't want anyone to see my reaction. What if I didn't like it? I wanted to prepare a facial expression for if I had to fake a way of expressing that I loved it.

I excused myself to the bathroom, and what stared back at me was a human I hardly recognized.

My hair was cropped a tiny bit above my shoulders, with blond tips that faded back into brown as it reached my scalp. My hair was shiny and knot-less and went surprisingly well with my skin-tone. Not once had I ever felt good about myself. This new sense of satisfaction in my appearance was exhilarating.

I walked out of the bathroom and practically flew to Vera, giving her the biggest hug I could muster. She breathed deeply and whispered, "I'm so glad you like it. I was afraid you wouldn't."

The next stop was the nail salon. Vera picked black nail polish while I picked periwinkle, and we both sat side by side with our fingers under the dryer. Soft instrumental forest-like music played in the background. The whole nail salon had bamboo plants everywhere, with Chinese ladies at each station talking in their own little language to each other. The one who painted and fixed up my nails was working on the next customer, her tiny hands quickly working at what they seemed to be best at.

Two Chinese men came from behind Vera and I. We didn't know they were behind us, though, until they started giving us a massage. Instantly we started giggling, because was this supposed to happen in nail salons? Either way, our laughter dried out soon enough.

Personally, I had never felt something so beautiful before. No male has ever touched me and technically this didn't count because he was only giving me a massage, but I was lost the minute his fingertips touched my shoulders. They pressed into my collarbones and to my back, where they moved in circles and repeated the process. My own fingers felt numb and my eyelids fluttered shut. I gasped when a moan escaped my lips and I heard Vera giggle in the background.

Wasn't it weird? Not being in control of your own body, even if it's only for a few seconds? It was the first time I was unaware of myself. I was always on top when it came to reacting to things, but this? I was so deep in pleasure that I hadn't even considered to cover my gasp. My cheeks inflamed the minute I noticed how loud my pathetic gasp was. I would definitely have to look into getting a massage sometime again, though.

And as we made our way to a clothing store, I realized that my heart was still beating a little too fast from the massage. I would never get over how relaxing that was.

This store had music so loud that it bounced off the walls and you could feel the vibration of it pounding under your shoes. Not that it was a bad thing. Pink and blue lights illuminated thin faceless mannequins with too-perfect outfits and fake hairstyles. Vera pulled me over to a rack of clothes.

"Take a look," she insisted, her eye set on a shirt for herself. "Excuse me for a second."

She left to go check out whatever shirt caught her eye while I stood, staring blankly at the variety of different clothes, none of them really catching my eye like they did for Vera.

"Need help, miss?"

I nodded a little too quickly at the lady with a fake smile plastered on her lips, a bunch of unfolded shirts draped on her left arm. I instantly walked to a more safer area where nobody could talk to me.

"Well, are you going to pick out something?" Vera asked, looking over at me, her thick mascara-coated eyelashes reaching just below her sculpted eyebrows.

I shrugged, honestly not knowing where to start because I thought my wardrobe was fine. According to Vera, my outfits needed some work.

"Fine. I'll pick, you try on. Let's go."

I followed her around the store like a lost puppy, watching her grab at expensive looking tops with skinny jeans and leggings.

I followed her into the dressing room and she tugged me into one of the booths with her.

I quickly jabbed the pen at my notepad.

Together? I wrote.

"Why not?" She asked. "Trust me, I won't look. Your privacy is all yours."

That didn't change the fact that undressing myself in front of her was still the awkwardest thing I'd ever done. Not that this whole day wasn't awkward.

I'd never done stuff like this before. I forgot what it's like to go shopping and have the attention on me in a positive way because my father couldn't do stuff like this. Not that it was his fault- because it wasn't at all, he couldn't do motherly things for obvious reasons. Plus, it wasn't helping at all that I didn't talk.

"I think we should get your eyebrows waxed too," she commented as I stripped down in my awkward black panties and sports bra. "And your legs. And you need more attractive-looking underwear."

I looked down at my underwear, a blush creeping to my cheeks.

"You've never done something like this before, have you?" She asked quietly, patting the empty space on the bench she sat on. I awkwardly sat down. I grabbed my notepad from my jean pocket on the floor.

Not really. I wrote.

"If you feel like I'm going too far.."

I like it. I'm thankful-so thankful that you're doing this. Thank you. I need this. I'm not exactly-

My writing went off the page, so I ripped the sheet off and put it on her lap, and then continued.

the type of girl that fits in easily. It would definitely help the constant feeling of people staring and talking.

"Okay." She said quietly, the tips of her mouth forming a smile. "All these people in school are so ordinary, you know? So loud and so quick to judge. It's why I wear a mask of makeup. It covers my flaws, you know? But you- you've got this whole natural beauty thing going on. Natural on the inside and the outside. And not to mention that you're mysterious, too. Nobody else is like that."

She smiled and began again. "Sorry if I seem too pushy. It's just really cool seeing someone like you. And the fact that you're so innocent, too.." She chuckled. "You have so much to learn. And I'm sorry, for whatever reason you missed out on this stuff as a child. If you ever want to talk about it, you know to do so."

I smiled and didn't respond, knowing that she already knew how grateful I was for this. She handed me a pair of jeans and I tried them on, a size too big because it was baggy in the legs.

My legs grew tired the more Vera handed me clothes, but I kept up the pace. Vera would give her opinion and she would force me to model my outfits out in the walkway of all the dressing rooms.

The place was starting to quiet down as it was getting late, and we stood at the checkout; five new pairs of jeans, two pairs of leggings, because apparently every girl needs them. She got too many thongs to count, and at first I didn't know what they were until she explained it to me, trying so hard not to laugh in the process. She bought me ten different shirts as well, along with a beanie, which was the only thing I actually picked out. And she also got me a new pair of shoes, which were black Converse because I already had white.

Before she took me home, she also took me to a place where they waxed my eyebrows. They waxed my legs, too, free of charge because Vera was an every-week customer and they adored her.

It wasn't that I didn't shave and this part was new to me. Of course I shaved, I just didn't put much attention to it as other girls did. Once every two weeks was fine with me, but for my legs? Apparently not, according to Vera.

Was she rich? That was an understatement. As she drove me home in the now disastrous weather, with rain pounding against the windows like a trapped ghost, she explained it to me.

"Don't feel bad about the money," she began. "My house is too big, and my parents are too wealthy. They both work in the business field, literally as partners, and they're top of the game, if you know what I mean. It sucks because I don't even need to go to college, if I didn't want to of course. But I really want to and I get it all so easy. I really want a challenge, you know? I don't want the money to be handed to me."

She stopped for a second, lost in thought. She began again. "My family is so lonely. My older brother is in his twenties now, and he lives all the way in Nebraska and we're in Pennsylvania so it's not like he comes here often to visit. My parents don't give a shit about me, so I'm pretty much lonely. It's just nice to have you, you know? I mean, it sucks that you don't really talk but you still communicate in other ways, like how your eyes can speak for you. It's nice."

I hadn't realized we stopped at the front of my house. The rain was the only thing I heard besides our breathing.

She handed me all my bags of clothing. "Tonight was fun." She gave my hand a squeeze.

I retrieved my notepad.

I agree. Thank you for everything.

"No problem, Poppy. See you on Monday."

I walked into my house to find my father asleep on the couch, the TV remote in his hand. He stirred and his eyes opened slowly.

"Hey, Poppy," he said groggily, sitting up and making room for me.

"How was the mall?" He asked as I snuggled up next him, dropping my bags next to the couch. He draped the pale green blanket over both of us and muted the TV, the faded colors illuminating our small but comfy living room.

I took a deep breath. Baby steps, right?

"It was fun," I said quietly, almost so quiet that I couldn't even hear it myself. "It was really fun."

And it truly was.