The next morning, Jon met Karyn at her house before the two walked to school together. While Jon had not brought the stone with him, he and Karyn had a long discussion about what, if anything, they should do to correct Karyn's poor wish from the day before.
As they approached the entrance to Lake Point High School, Karyn found herself slowly accepting the idea that it might be best to cut her losses, and get used to seeing a blonde head in the mirror every day. She wasn't 100% sure that this was what she wanted. But she could always change her mind later.
With a deep breath and an even deeper sigh, Karyn eventually said her goodbyes to Jon and left for the direction of her locker.
But as she entered her combination, she felt an odd tingling in her spine. At first she shrugged it off. Maybe it was just cold in the hallway. But as she shuffled through her textbooks, he heard a distressingly familiar voice behind her.
"Karyn! There you are!"
The newly-blonde teenager turned around, her fight-or-flight instincts rising as her eyes confirmed that yes, it was Sarah McMillan that was talking to her. But before Karyn could decide how to react, the cheerleader continued.
"Ugh, did your mom force you to leave the house in a dorky outfit again?"
"I know, right?" The words left Karyn's lips without her brain summoning them. "Like, I keep telling her that cute clothes aren't the end of the world, but she's just all, 'it sends a bad message,' or whatever." Karyn's expression was casual, but inside she was panicking.
"She's so old-fashioned," Sarah said with surprising sympathy, lifting a small pink duffel bag as she did so. "That's why I always bring you a back-up outfit."
Without meaning to, Karyn received the duffel bag from Sarah. "Thanks, girl, you're a lifesaver. Come to the bathroom with me while I change?"
"Of course!"
And the two blondes sashayed their way to the nearest restroom, Sarah in a chic skirt and tank top and Karyn in a green sweater and baggy jeans, as Karyn screamed silently at the confines of her own skull.
