Chapter 29 Saylor
Saylor
I remember a lot of things from when Stella and Scarlett were born.
How cool I thought it was that there were two of them.
How cute they were and how I used to pretend they were my little baby dolls.
I love them so much, but it has been so nice not having them around getting into my makeup and stealing my clothes, and today those little punks come back.
They leave again in two weeks to enjoy their time at soccer clinic and stunt camp.
But for now, I have to pull back from this perfect new love bubble in my life so I can be around to intercept deliveries for their party while my mom is busy retrieving those two little demons from camp.
Not that I can completely blame her, but apparently Stella got sick of people confusing them, so she took some craft scissors to her hair and turned her long brown-blond curls into a choppy bob.
Stella realized a good twenty-four hours later that it’s harder to get away with twin crimes when she has short hair, so two days ago, while I was busy falling for Heaven, she dragged Scarlett back to their camp’s craft room and convinced her to cut her hair.
Mom called it a Parent Trap and then immediately forced me to watch the movie with her while she was editing graphics.
It was a fun movie, but I think my mom needed the humor to keep from crying.
All three of her daughters have betrayed her online branding based around our hair.
Her rebellious sunshine girls. She’s taking them to get their hair properly trimmed.
After, we’re going out to dinner as a family.
I feel a little bad that all three of us have betrayed the long blond brand that made my mom who she is today, but I’ve really settled into this burnished red—that’s what my aunt calls it—so Cristine is just gonna have to deal.
Also, I’m pretty over the continued hate from her followers.
Imagine thinking I’m not a ten in every single situation. How embarrassing.
Sweets by Sophie delivers a million cupcakes right on time, and they help me get them safely stored in the extra fridge. I give them the cash tip Mom left and then I’m free to get on with my life. I flop down on the couch and FaceTime Heaven. She answers right away.
“Hey.”
I immediately blush and tuck my chin under the BlackPink sweatshirt Heaven let me borrow the other day. “Hi. What are you doing?”
“Drawing. I’m trying to work on some more realistic portraits for my portfolio.”
“Oh, can I see?”
“Here.” She turns the camera around and shows me her tablet.
“I started this one of Miss Anita this morning.” There’s a picture of the best mail carrier in the world tagged up in the corner of the screen and then there’s a simple but spot-on sketch of Miss Anita from the shoulders up filling the rest of the space.
“Cutie! That’s so good. It looks just like her. Are you gonna show it to her?”
“I’m thinking about doing a small painting. I don’t want to freak her out by being, like, I’ve been thinking about you. I just had to draw you,” Heaven says. I laugh.
“No, she’ll love it. I’d freak out if you did a painting of me. But in a good way.”
“I did do this,” she says, and then she moves her fingers across the screen and another illustration comes up.
Well, not one. There’s five, and again they’re all me.
The reference photo in the corner is a picture Heaven took of me at the skate park.
There’s a large portrait in the middle of the screen, and then around it are a bunch of smaller Saylors making different faces.
One where I’m smiling so wide, one where I’m pouting, one where my lips are puckered waiting for Heaven to kiss me, another of me winking while sticking out my tongue between my teeth.
She’s captured the fading traces of the scratches on my cheek, my freckles, and the exact color of my eyes and my burnished red hair.
And she’s drawn little hearts everywhere. I can’t even feel silly for tearing up.
“Cutie,” I whisper. “These are so good.”
“Yeah?”
“Um, yeah. You should be so proud of yourself.”
“I am.” She turns the camera around and I see she’s blushing a little bit.
“Can you draw more of the two of us sometime?”
“Uh…” She turns the camera around and pulls up a different canvas on her tablet. She’s started the cutest drawing of us kissing in front of an unfinished painting on the wall.
“It’s us at the museum,” she says. I know seventeen is too young, but I’m really thinking about running away with Heaven so we can be together forever.
Suddenly, I hear the garage door open. “Ugh, my mom’s back with my sisters. I should go.”
“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Can’t wait.” I blow her a kiss and end the call just as the door slams open.
“Not cool,” I hear Mom say. Stella grumbles something back. I get off the couch and follow the chaos into the kitchen. My sisters are hauling their bags into the house. I try not to laugh as I catch their matching bobs, shorter than Stella’s first-round hack job.
“Hey, stinkies.”
“Sissy!” Scarlett drops her bag and rushes over to me.
I pull her into a big hug and kiss her all over her cheeks.
I step back and check out her hair. It’s really short.
Stella comes over and nudges Scar out of the way so she can hug me.
I give her a good long squeeze ’cause I love this little jerk too.
I blow a raspberry on her cheek and that gets her to let go.
I turn her so I can see her hair, and they really have an identical tapered cut.
“I think it looks good,” I tell them.
“Why are you all goth now? Is it ’cause you’re hanging out with that skater tattoo girl?” Stella says, tugging on my borrowed black sweatshirt before she lifts my arm and looks at my cast wrapped around my thumb.
“No.” I laugh as I pat Stella’s cheek. “I’m gay now. This is phase one of my transformation.”
“I love my gay sister,” Scarlett says.
“Thanks, babe.”
“Dump laundry before you do anything else,” Mom calls out as she steps into the house.
I’m about to ask if there’s anything else she needs me to grab from the car, but I can’t find my voice.
Cristine Ford steps into our house with a fresh new cut.
A beach wavy bob cut along her sharp jaw.
She sets her purse on the counter and turns to me, her hands proudly on her hips.
“What do you think?” she asks me. I’m still too stunned to speak.
“I think we’re too old to have matching haircuts with each other. We don’t need matching haircuts with our mom,” Stella practically shouts. And she is not wrong even if the matching sister haircuts are her fault. I look between all three of them and just—yikes.
I walk around my mom and see just how short she cut it. “Did you show Dad?”
“Not yet. These two are gonna dump their laundry, and shower and change, and then we have to shoot something before he gets home.”
“Without me?” I say, backing toward the stairs.
“You’re free for now.”
“Wait. I need to document this.” I hold up my phone. My mom and Scarlett smile. Stella gives me the finger. She’s lucky I don’t want to rat her out.
“ ’Kay. Bye!”
I run up to my room and immediately text Heaven a picture of my mom and my sisters.
The Ford triplets.
Naur!
At least she didn’t dye it red.
I don’t hear Dad say anything about the drastic hair changes when he comes home from work, but all through dinner he won’t stop looking at the side of Mom’s head. Poor guy. All the women in his life are changing and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.