Double Dog Dare by Lisa Graff

her face in her vine-green hair, and pulled her blankets over her head.
    “Oh, now, silly, come on,” her mom said, tossing back all of Francine’s blankets. Francine’s chilly toes immediately curled up in protest. “We’ve been planning on going to Mommy and Me Yoga for ages, and we never get around to it. But today’s the day. Up, now. That’s a girl.” And she hoisted Francine up by the armpits.
    “Mmmmfle-blug,”
Francine replied.
    That proved to not be enough of a compelling argument for Francine’s mother. By eight forty-five, they were sitting at the breakfast table, Francine’s hands wrapped around a salmon-asparagus wrap.
    “Breakfast,” her mother told her, as though maybe if she hadn’t clarified, Francine would have thought it was a snow boot. Francine took a bite before she was awake enough to remember that she hated salmon-asparagus wraps.
    The phone rang, and her mother picked it up. “It’s Natalie,” she said, handing the cordless to Francine.
    Francine swallowed her bite. “Hey,” she said into the phone. “What’s up?”
    “Can I come over now to help train Samson?” Natalie asked. She sounded like she’d already eaten breakfast, brushed her teeth, and done forty jumping jacks. “My dad said he’d drive me over when you woke up, and now you’re awake, so I’m coming. You want to work on climbing up ramps today?”
    “My mom’s making me do
yoga.
” Francine rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. “But definitely after I get back. I have lots of good ideas.”
    “Cool,” Natalie said. “Call me as soon as you get home. And when we’re done with training, I can do your hair.”
    “My hair?”
    “Yeah. I’m gonna give you a makeover. I have some ideas to make you look less slimy.”
    “Okay,” Francine said with a laugh. “Well, I’ll see you then.”
    “Bye!”
    Francine hung up the phone and went back to her breakfast wrap. Talk about slimy, she thought, taking a bite.
    As Francine chewed, her mother sat across from her, staring, one hand wrapped around her tea mug. It took Francine a moment to realize that what her mother was staring at was
her
.
    “Mom?” she said. “You okay?”
    Her mother blinked. “Oh. No, I’m fine. I …”
    “Mom?”
    “It’s just …” She heaved a deep sigh. “It wasn’t some sort of preteenage rebellion thing, was it?”
    “Huh?” Sometimes talking to parents was like trying to crack a code.
    “Your
hair,
” her mother replied. She lifted her mug to her mouth, but then set it down again without taking a sip. “I mean, I know you said you did it because that boy dared you, but I can’t help wondering if this is your way of … What I mean is … are you upset about the divorce?”
    Francine rolled her eyes. Jeez, her parents went and got one idiotic divorce and suddenly that was the only thingeither of them could talk about. “I told you, I did it so I could be the news anchor at school.” She took an enormous bite of her breakfast wrap. Even eating salmon and asparagus was better than having this conversation. “Not everything I do is because of you and Dad, you know.”
    Her mother stared into her mug for a long minute, silent. Then she got up, walked to the sink, and poured all her tea slowly down the drain. When she turned around, she leaned against the sink, arms jutting out from her sides, and studied Francine. “I think it looks nice,” she said at last. “Your hair. It’s unusual. And sort of lovely.”
    Francine squinted one eye at her mother. If Francine had gone and dyed her hair green a month ago, her mom would
not
have said it was lovely. She would’ve grounded her until she was old enough to vote. Maybe getting a divorce made you nutty. “I look like a frog,” she told her mother. She wadded her napkin into a ball. “And it’s never gonna come out, either.” Francine had already shampooed her hair thirteen times in the past two days, and it was still as green as a fern. And the worst part was that