Never Always Sometimes

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“Julia, it looks like someone vomited on my head.”

Dave looked at her in the mirror, petrified. She brought her hands up to her mouth, her perfectly pink hair framing that lovely face of hers as the laughter tore through her.

“This is seriously the worst shade of green I’ve ever seen.” Dave turned on the faucet and ran water through his hair, and the pretty shade of green water that poured into the sink only made the joke crueler. “There’s no way I’m walking around with this on my head.”

“Oh, come on. You really pull it off.” Julia was doubled over in laughter, trying to catch her breath.

“I’m shaving it off.”

“No, don’t! The Nevers!” She dropped to the floor, not taking her eyes off of him, her hand clutching at her stomach. “Oww, Dave, the laughter hurts.”

“The Nevers just said dye your hair. They didn’t say anything about keeping vomit on my head for the rest of the school year. I’m gonna go to the mall to get this cut. Right now.”

“If I keep looking at it, I might pee myself.” She laughed again, either pretending to wipe a tear from her eye or actually doing it, Dave couldn’t tell at this point. “Wait until the morning. Maybe it’ll look better in daylight.”

Dave grimaced but stayed put. “Only because I’m such a good friend and you’re clearly enjoying this.” He lingered by the mirror for a second, looking down at Julia, who was trying to fight off another giggling fit. It was hard not to want this to go on, whatever his hair looked like, hard not to chase after the idea of the Nevers, too, when the result was a whole day spent with Julia laughing at his side, her cheeks as pink as her hair, her eyes suffused with joy. “It’s going to be a strange end of the year, isn’t it?”

o o o

The next morning Dave’s hair not only looked like puke, but like puke that had been allowed to sit out overnight.

Julia practically woke up laughing, and she refused to let Dave go until her dads saw his hair. They made their way downstairs, where Tom, Ethan, and Chef Mike seemed to have never left the spots they’d been at the day before.

“Good timing, we’re just about to test the Sunday brunch menu,” Ethan said when he heard them entering the kitchen. He was typing on his computer while Tom peeked over Chef Mike’s shoulder, watching him crack an egg into a steaming pot of water. Julia held her laughter, waiting for them to look up. She took a seat at one of the stools positioned by the kitchen island, and finally Ethan looked away from his screen and gasped.

The other two men turned to look at Dave. Tom immediately broke out in laughter. Chef Mike just said, “Yikes,” before returning to poaching eggs.

“Yup, going to the mall right now,” Dave said.

“You probably should, I might lose my appetite otherwise.”

“Ouch,” Dave said, though he took a seat next to Julia and Ethan.

Ethan pulled his glasses off and reached over to touch Julia’s hair. “This actually suits you.”

Dave loved sitting in the kitchen with Julia and her dads, loved the ease with which they talked and laughed with each other. He wished him and Brett and their dad had it, too. Dave had always wondered how Tom and Ethan handled Julia’s infatuation with her mom, whether they were ever hurt by it. But when he sat with them in their kitchen, it became clear that there was plenty of love to go around. No matter how much she longed for her mom, Julia never neglected her dads.

“How does your bathroom look?” Tom said, pouring a mug of coffee and offering it to Dave.

Julia quickly cupped her hand over Dave’s mouth. “Spotless.”

“You’re grounded,” Tom said, shaking his head.

“We had this discussion yesterday. Your reign of terror over me is done. Let it go.” Julia pulled her hand back and reached for Dave’s mug, blowing slightly at the surface. There was a hint of a chemical smell around the two of them from the hair dye, and Dave was thankful for the aromatic tendrils of steam rising from the coffee. He rose from his chair and went to the fridge to grab the milk, adding just a splash, the way Julia liked it. “So how’s the restaurant going? When do I get to see the dream come true?”

“More like a nightmare,” Ethan muttered. He put his glasses back on, then looked over at Julia. “Just kidding. Don’t panic.”

“Julia panics?” Dave asked, sitting back down.

Julia gave Ethan a light smack on the arm. “I have a rep to live up to; don’t tell people stuff like that.”

“Is there really anything this kid doesn’t know about you?”

“Not the point.” Julia drank from her mug, then slid it across the marble top to Dave.

They spent the morning in the comforts of the kitchen and the joys of the banter that Julia had learned from her dads. She filled them in vaguely on the Nevers, stating that she and Dave were conducting important sociological research into the world of the modern teenager. It sometimes felt like Dave belonged in that kitchen, though he knew he was just using Tom and Ethan’s warmth as a reason to think he and Julia were meant for more than friendship. When the afternoon started looming, Dave forced himself to leave the house, to cut his hair and maybe see his own family for a bit.

The mall was a slight detour on the way home, and throughout the walk he wished he were the kind of guy who wore hats. There weren’t a lot of people around, but it was still embarrassing to be out in public. He imagined even the squirrels, usually nonchalant about human hairstyles, staring down at him from the trees and making disgusted faces.

When he walked through the glass doors of the mall, he knew right away he was going to run into someone he knew, someone from school, someone who would be witness to the atrocity he and Julia had committed on his head. The mall was swarming with families, couples in their twenties, packs of middle school girls sharing cups of lemonade. Huge banners hung from the rafters announcing a special weekend-only sale.

He sighed and kept his eyes cast down on the floor, trying to maneuver his way around the crowd without running into too many people. Before he knew it, he was at the Supercuts, and the hipster girl with the red hair and the half sleeve of tattoos had written his name down on her clipboard and told him to take a seat in the waiting area.

Just as he was sighing in relief, he saw that the only chair available was right next to Gretchen. She was reading, but almost as soon as his 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.”

“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.

“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.

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 somewhere.”

“I don’t think I’m ready to be the guy that collects hair in a bag.”

Gretchen laughed in a way he hadn’t seen before, this goofy laugh that showed off her front teeth and sounded like it came from a cartoon character.

“When I hit rock bottom, that’s when I start collecting hair.”

“What do you think people who collect hair do with it?”

“I don’t know if those people actually exist. I think that’s just something TV shows and movies made up for the creepiness factor and to get some laughs.”

“Oh, they exist. I’m sure of it.”

“You think?” Dave said. Just then, the redheaded hipster girl who’d been cutting Gretchen’s hair brushed off the clippings from Gretchen’s shoulder and said they were all done. Dave found himself thinking, Don’t go.

Then his stylist turned on the razor and kept his head still, and Gretchen disappeared from Dave’s sight. It was an abrupt and disappointing good-bye. Still, it was a little thrilling having a good conversation with someone who wasn’t Julia. It was a little liberating, truth be told, to think of someone else for a while. When Dave stood up to pay, now sporting a completely shaved head, he saw that it hadn’t been a good-bye at all; Gretchen was waiting for him at the front.

“I don’t know if you drove here,” Gretchen said, “but I can give you a ride home, if you want. Since we live so close.” Without waiting for an answer, she reached up and ran a hand over his shaved head. “This feels nice.”

“Thanks,” he said, wondering if she could spot the goose bumps she’d given him. “I’d love a ride.”

“Good.” She smiled, then motioned with her head. “It’s this way.”

PARTICULAR SHADES (#ulink_1adc19b3-5f5e-5b83-b7f0-ba4d1dd45eba)

ANOTHER PERFECT CALIFORNIA day. There were plenty of them throughout the year, so many that they were nearly indistinguishable, a string of blessings that were mostly taken for granted, except for when there were three or four chilly days in a row and everyone suddenly longed for perfection again. So when Mr. Patch, Dave and Julia’s AP English teacher, decided to have class outside, it was less an impulse to take advantage of the weather and more of an excuse to allow everyone to waste an hour.

They were supposed to be working on practice essays, but even Mr. Patch was lying against the tree where most of the seniors gathered for lunch, pretending to keep an eye on things. Some people from class were sitting at the picnic tables near the cafeteria, their notebooks (paper or computer) nowhere to be seen. A handful of people had put in their earphones as soon as they’d stepped outside. Julia and Dave separated themselves from the class immediately, and they laid out at the edge of the soccer field, where a little hill faced out at the blacktop and the rest of the school. Julia was resting her head on Dave’s stomach, her pink hair just as bright as when they dyed it. The weight of her against him was like warmth added to the day. It quieted everything, as if the touch of her head on his stomach was a mute button, and all that existed was the two of them.

In the days since the hair coloring and the shenanigans with Marroney in the Chili’s bathroom, Julia had been in a fantastic mood. All she wanted to do was plan out the rest of the Nevers, starting with Dave’s prom king campaign. It was hard not to get caught up in the excitement. Yes, he’d sat next to Gretchen during their last two classes together, and walked with her to her next class, even though his was on the other side of school and he’d arrived late. She was fun to talk to, and the more he found out about her, the more colorful she seemed. But this was Julia, and a maybe-crush could not compare.

Another class joined the unofficial festivities. An art class, judging from the large sketch pads the students carried with them. The teacher was reading a paperback as she walked, smug in her knowledge that if anyone could get away with having their class outside it was the art teacher. Dave spotted Gretchen among the art students, a dark green sketchbook with a pencil in the spiral binding tucked under her arm. She was talking to Joey Planko, a junior soccer player who, from what Dave had heard at the Kapoor party, was already getting scholarship offers. Frankly, he looked like he could receive scholarship offers solely for having muscles. He looked like the human version of a sports car.

Dave watched them walk across the blacktop, passing in front of where he and Julia were lying. He kept preparing his arm to wave at Gretchen when she noticed him, but her eyes were turned in Joey’s direction. The two of them and a couple of other people made their way across the lush soccer field to the far goal, none of them casting so much as a glance in Dave and Julia’s direction, and Dave was somewhat thankful to not have to explain to Julia his newfound friendship with Gretchen, or whatever it was.

“Debbie’s been trying to kill the pink spots on her tail. Sometimes I catch her looking at my hair and I can just tell her brain is whirring, making the connection. She’s going to come after me soon.”