“Want to do something fun?” the girl asked, pushing open the door to her sister’s room. Inside, it smelled like cinnamon and hot cocoa and stirred up memories of winter sledding followed by cold nights snuggled up under a blanket together.
The older girl looked up from her homework and frowned. “Probably not.” Then she tilted her head, closed her math book, and asked slowly, “But maybe. What do you have in mind?”
“I want to dye my hair.” The girl pulled a box of hair dye out from behind her back and wiggled it in the air. “Purple.”
“Mom will kill you,” the other girl said, laughing. “You’re not serious.”
With a shrug, the girl said, “I’m totally serious. She left, so she doesn’t get a vote, does she? And I bet Dad won’t mind.”
“What makes you so sure about that?”
“Have you seen old pictures of him from college? He was a walking ad for Manic Panic hair dye.” She shrugged. “We can ask him. I bet he’ll help too. He needs a distraction.”
The older girl studied her carefully. “You’re not acting like you. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I’ve always wanted to dye my hair and there’s no time like the present. But I want your help—it’ll be more fun if you do it with me. Are you in or out?”
The older girl hopped off her bed and gave her sister a hug for the first time in months. “I’m totally in.”