▸ A New Hue: Chapter 15

The frigid air of the winter evening nipped at Violet's bare skin as she trailed Ivy down the deserted street toward the row of houses. Each exhale turned into tiny clouds of mist, and as she looked at Ivy, she noticed a change in her friend's demeanour as they approached her home. The composed façade Ivy typically wore was now tinged with a hint of unease, her body tense and her eyes darting ahead with keen alertness.

"Hold up," Ivy raised her hand, halting Violet mid-step. Her eyes were glued to the driveway, scanning for any sign of her uncle's car. The space was bare, yet a sense of dread hung in the air. "He's not home," she muttered. "But Diane might be. Stay quiet and follow my lead." 

Violet tightened her grip on the plastic bag that held the purple box dye, a sense of unease washing over her. The light-hearted banter they had enjoyed on their way back from the store had faded, replaced by a tense silence filled with cautious whispers and furtive glances. As they neared the house, Ivy gestured toward the dimly lit area beneath her bedroom window. "Wait there. I'll go in first and check if it's clear."

Violet nodded, crouching down and wrapping her blazer around herself for warmth. She watched intently as Ivy unlocked the door and slipped inside, the soft creak of the hinges making Violet hold her breath in anticipation.

Ivy glided through the house like a whisper, her instincts finely tuned to the subtle shifts in her surroundings. The serene stillness surrounding her was the first reassuring sign that everything was alright. The hallway was free of stray heels, and the usual distant beat of music from Diane's phone, which typically flooded the area with a mix of pop hits and laughter, was absent. A small smirk played on Ivy's lips as the familiar fragrance of Diane's perfume wafted near the front door, a sweet blend of jasmine and sandalwood that solidified her suspicion—Diane was out for the night, likely off on another one of her spontaneous work calls. Diane found herself without a job most evenings, except when her regular bar needed a last-minute bartender to cover a shift. In those cases, she would usually jump at the chance, viewing it more as an opportunity to socialize and flirt rather than a traditional work obligation.

Feeling a sense of relief wash over her, Ivy headed to her bedroom, the soft carpet muffling her footsteps. She gently shut the door, the soft click of the latch resonating in the quiet. The room felt like a peaceful retreat, bathed in moonlight that streamed through the curtains, creating shimmering patterns on the floor. Ivy moved with purpose, her heart racing with anticipation as she approached the window. She carefully slid it open just enough to invite Violet inside, the cool evening air brushing against her skin like a gentle caress.

Leaning out, Ivy extended her hand, her fingers curling in a beckoning gesture. "Come on, quick." 

Violet took hold of Ivy's hand and nimbly squeezed through the window, landing softly on the floor with a gentle thump. She paused for a moment to catch her breath, then leaned in and whispered, "We good?"

Ivy nodded, a playful smile spreading across her face as she held up the plastic bag like a trophy. "We're good." 

With the tension dissipating, Violet's expression brightened. "So, what are we waiting for? Let's get this started!" She seized Ivy's wrist and pulled her toward the bathroom, practically bouncing with enthusiasm.

⋯

The bathroom felt small yet inviting, with the mirror slightly misted from the coolness that clung to their skin. The soft glow of the overhead light cast a warm hue over the tiled walls, creating an atmosphere that was both cosy and intimate. Ivy leaned against the sink, arms folded, her posture a mix of confidence and apprehension, while Violet carefully opened the box of dye as if it were a precious artifact, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Okay, princess," Violet said with a teasing grin, "are you ready for your grand transformation?"

Ivy rolled her eyes, but there was a faint trace of amusement in her tone. "Just don't screw it up."

As Violet skilfully applied the dye, their conversation flowed effortlessly. Despite their differing personalities, the playful exchanges felt natural and easy. Ivy, usually reserved and sceptical, found herself laughing more than she had in a long time. 

"You've got a steady hand," Ivy remarked, her voice softer than usual. 

"Why the shock? Do I seem clumsy to you?" Violet shot back with a playful smile. "You should be grateful I'm the one doing this. Without me, you'd likely end up with a messy dye job and a few tears."

"I don't cry."

"Sure you don't," Violet teased, her smile growing as she playfully tousled Ivy's hair.

As the dye worked its magic, the pair settled onto the cool bathroom floor, their backs pressed against the chilly tiles. Violet regaled Ivy with tales of her colourful hair adventures—vivid pinks, striking blues, and even a regrettable green phase that...well ended poorly. Ivy listened intently, a genuine amusement lighting up her face, her lips curling into a smile that felt almost unfamiliar. 

When the timer chimed, Violet sprang up, yanking Ivy to her feet. "It's the moment of truth!" she declared, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she guided Ivy to the sink for the big rinse. The anticipation hung in the air like a thick fog, and Ivy felt her heart race as she approached the mirror, her reflection still obscured by the remnants of the dye.

The experience was chaotic yet filled with joy, as Violet splashed water around, her laughter ringing out as Ivy playfully swatted at her, trying to dodge the droplets that flew in every direction. "You're going to ruin my uniform!" Ivy protested, though her voice was laced with laughter.

"Oh please, it's just water!" Violet shot back, her grin wide as she continued to splash water, the two of them caught in a playful battle.

As the final rinse came to an end and the towel was gently removed, Ivy shut her eyes, savouring the moment as Violet diligently dried her hair with a towel. Given its thickness, Ivy knew it would take some time, and she could already imagine Violet's arms growing weary from the effort. After a good while, when Ivy's hair was at least partially dry, Violet would let out a soft sigh and cheerfully announce, "Alright! Now take a look!"

With a moment's hesitation, Ivy opened her eyes, first peeking with one eye and then the other. Gazing into the mirror, she was taken aback by her reflection. Her hair had transformed into a stunning dark plum, with flashes of magenta that shimmered in the light. It was striking, daring, and so different from her usual appearance that she could hardly recognize the girl looking back at her.

Ivy's face was a mask of uncertainty at first, her gaze taking in every nuance around her. Her fingers fidgeted at her sides, and her breath caught momentarily. 

"Ivy?" Violet's tone softened, her usual playfulness replaced by a hint of worry. She moved closer, resting a hand on Ivy's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

A solitary tear rolled down Ivy's cheek. Her lips quivered as she struggled to find her voice, but then a genuine smile emerged—warm yet laced with disbelief. She let out a shaky laugh, brushing the tear away quickly, as if embarrassed.

"I look…" Ivy began, her voice cracking. "I look—"

"Beautiful," Violet finished for her, her own eyes glistening as she pulled Ivy into a hug. "You look like a princess. So, so pretty." 

Ivy surrendered to the warmth of the embrace, her defences dissolving as she held Violet close. It was more than just the hair; it was about discovering a fresh perspective on herself, about releasing a fragment of the sorrow that had burdened her for ages. The gentle rhythm of Violet's heartbeat against her own felt like a soothing balm, washing away the remnants of doubt and despair that had clung to her for so long.

For the first time in years, Ivy felt free.

⋯ 

The faint light from Ivy's bedside lamp cast a soft glow around the room as Violet stealthily slipped out of bed. She stole a glance at Ivy, who lay peacefully, her gentle breathing the only noise breaking the silence. A rush of emotions surged through Violet as she admired Ivy's serene expression. In her sleep, Ivy appeared breath-taking—a stark contrast to her typical, more guarded and sharp-witted demeanour. Violet's fingers unconsciously grazed the number in her pocket as she swallowed the lump forming in her throat. 

"She's just a…friend," Violet whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. However, the fluttering sensation in her chest was far from ordinary. It felt like the start of something she couldn't yet define, something that scared and thrilled her all at once.

Violet focused on Ivy's backpack, a sense of unease creeping in as she contemplated her next move. It wasn't mere curiosity driving her; it was a desperate need to break free—not just for her own sake, but for the brighter future she envisioned beyond these frigid nights and transient acts of kindness. With a heavy heart, she slowly unzipped the bag, striving to keep her actions as quiet as possible. 

Ivy's cracked phone slipped into her hand, its screen dim but still functional. Violet fiddled with the buttons until the home screen lit up. Next, she reached into Ivy's blazer pocket, her fingers gliding over the rough material before retrieving a slightly wrinkled note. Quietly, Violet padded out of the room, the door closing behind her with the faintest click. Her fingers trembled as she dialled the number. It rang twice before a calm, professional voice answered. 

"WhiteHorse Agency. How can we assist you?"

Violet swallowed hard. "H-hi. My name is Violet Jenkins. I called earlier today...about funding for school." Her voice cracked slightly.

"Ah, Miss Jenkins. One moment while I locate your file," the receptionist said smoothly. There was a faint tapping sound in the background as the receptionist worked. 

The pause stretched longer than Violet anticipated, her nerves getting the better of her. She glanced back at the door to Ivy's room, as if seeking reassurance. Her heart raced, drowning out the faint buzz of the phone line. 

"Miss Jenkins?" the receptionist said, breaking the silence. "I've located your file. Are you certain you'd like to proceed? Please note that this financial assistance requires repayment to the agency once your educational period concludes."

Violet clenched the phone tightly. After a deep inhale, the doubt that had been weighing her down transformed into a spark of determination. "Yes," she replied with conviction. "I understand, and I want to go through with it." 

The receptionist affirmed her answer and started to detail the upcoming steps, mentioning that more paperwork and a formal meeting were on the horizon. Violet nodded along, even though the other person couldn't see her, murmuring quiet acknowledgments. 

Once the call ended, Violet lingered in the hallway, her head resting lightly against the wall. The relief of having made the decision warred with the guilt of doing it without Ivy knowing. As she re-entered the room, Ivy stirred slightly but didn't wake. Violet set the phone down gently on the bedside table and climbed back into the bed, careful not to disturb her friend. 

She watched Ivy sleep for a while longer, her thoughts swirling. Maybe she was just overwhelmed by everything, mistaking kindness for something deeper. Or maybe, just maybe, she was starting to feel something real. Curling up under the blanket, Violet shut her eyes. Whatever it was, she wasn't ready to face it just yet. For now, she'd focus on the steps ahead—the school, the agency, and the life she was determined to build.