A Bleu Streak Christmas by T. I. Lowe Page A

be a
part of.”
    This pulls a hushed giggle from the
doll. Those pretty lips hold a genuine smile now. Wonder when I’m gonna stop
pansying around about that and claim a kiss from them?
    “I’m glad Momma straightened me out
that night. Look at all the living I would have forfeited had I tucked tail and
gone home.”
    She nods like she gets it and I think
she does. The tears have disappeared. I weave my fingers through her soft hair
and gently pull through. As I continue this in a lazy rhythm, I start to hum
what I’m pretty sure will be the opening to the song I’ve written tonight. What
overtakes me to do this, I’m not sure, but she’s allowing it and there’s no
stopping it until well after her eyes drift shut.
    Contentment eventually accompanies me
back to my bunk and pulls me into a deep satisfying sleep…

 
    “Wake up, suckers! Alabama!”
    I could have sworn I just fell asleep,
but the bus not moving is an indicator that I’ve hit at least seven hours of
sleep since we are undoubtedly already in Alabama. Me and Izzy slide our
curtains open at the same time and catch a glimpse of Trace running by the
bunks and on out the door.
    It’s all I can do not to cringe when my
eyes catch sight of her. That long cry is lingering in the form of dark circles
under her eyes. And her hair…
    “Sounds like Trace is excited.” Izzy
croaks this out as she rubs her eyes. I think she could maybe use a few more
hours of sleep, but I don’t suggest it. She probably needs to do something with
her hair sooner rather than later.
    “He is. His wife is here. Remember?”
    She sits up, but I just roll on my
side. Her petite height has an advantage with these bunks.
    “That’s right. I forgot Jen is joining
us. I hope she’s up for it.”
    “How are you this morning? Better? If
not, I was thinking we could have your mom here before the show begins
tonight.” I’m willing to do whatever it takes to keep her here, and I’m pretty sure
the band would back me on it.
    “I’m fine. There’s no need to bother
her. We’ll be home in another week.”
    “You sure?”
    “Yes.”
    I let out a long sigh. “Good, ‘cause we
need to talk about your hair.”
    Izzy’s eyebrows pull together as her
fingers comb through her hair. She stills when her fingers meet a section that
I’m pretty sure feels stiff.
    “Max tagged you.”
    “What do you mean by that?”
    She doesn’t wait for my reply. Instead,
she bolts to the bathroom.
    “Max King!” she screams.
    Running back out with wide eyes, Izzy
yanks open Max’s curtain and pinches him awake.
    “Ouch!” Max yelps as he pulls out his
earbuds. “What the heck?”
    “You dyed my hair blue !” she screeches.
      His groggy eyes focus on her, and he actually
has enough nerve to laugh.
    “It’s just one streak, and it’s not
permanent. Couple washes and it’ll be gone. No worries, baby.”
    As though it’s no big deal, Max rolls
away from her to go back to sleep. She’s not taking too kindly to that either,
because doll just hauled off and slapped his bare shoulder—hard enough to echo
through the bus and leave a bright handprint blooming on his skin. Idiot just
keeps laughing.
    I stay in my spot and watch on as she
slings around, gathering her stuff and storming to the bathroom.
    Doll baby stays in there twenty minutes
past the allotted time. By the time she emerges, we are all patiently waiting
our turns. No one dares to call her out on it. I guess the empty shampoo bottle
she just slung in the trash didn’t do the job she wanted. The blue streak is
just as blaring as it was before the long shower. Without saying a word to any
of us, Izzy grabs up some supplies from the kitchen and continues right out the
door.
    Thirty minutes later, a text lights up
my phone.
    Doll Baby— Hot stuff? Really? That’s what you saved your number under?
    Me — Straight
up.
    Doll Baby— Whatever. You, Tate, and Blake are invited to the Bleu bus for b-fast.
    A howl of laughter leaves