The Boy and His Ribbon (The Ribbon Duet 1)

Two unconnected events made one very nasty conclusion.

I came home a few nights after I’d given her the condoms to find the bathroom door wide open and steam curling down the corridor.

The scents of liquorice body wash and melon shampoo—her current favourite scents—gave me a clear path to her bedroom where she sat in the middle of her bed, dressed in innocent pink pyjamas, reading a textbook and doing science homework.

Everything was right with that picture apart from her hair.

Her gorgeous, golden hair was now a rich blue to match her ribbon.

The same ribbon tied at the end of her plait, draped over her shoulder in a vicious shade of cobalt.

“What the hell did you do?” I stormed into her room, barging past the door, and not caring that it slammed against the wall. She’d transformed from angel to nothing but trouble.

Trouble that I no longer knew how to handle…in so many complicated ways.

She looked up, blue eyes even brighter thanks to her new hair.

She winced at my temper. “I knew you’d be mad—”

“Of course, I’d be mad. Your hair is goddamn blue! What were you thinking?”

“It’s not permanent.”

“I don’t care. Wash it out. Right now.”

She shrugged, her pen in one hand and the end of her plait in the other. “It…um, it’ll wash out in twenty-four showers or so.”

“Twenty-four! You have school tomorrow.”

“They won’t mind.”

I laughed, full of exasperation and annoyance at how stupid she could be. “Oh, they’ll mind. There’s nothing natural about that, Della. The dress code states no makeup, offensive jewellery, or embellishments of any kind.”

“Why the hell do you remember the dress code?” She pouted. “Can’t I have a little expression?”

“I remember because I remember everything.” My eyes burned, sending their own message that I’d seen her kiss, and I remembered every mortal detail about it. Before she could read that stupidly sent information, I growled. “And no, expression is for after school. School is about learning to follow rules and—”

“It’s stifling me, Ren! I can’t be who I want to be there anymore. I can’t talk to anyone about…things. I’m sick of telling lies about who we are and where we come from. They don’t understand. No one understands—”

I shook my head. “I never thought you’d become one of those self-obsessed whiners like those stupid TV shows. This is life, Della. You need an education. You’re not there to find out who you are. You’re there to learn skills you’ll need for when you do.”

Her shoulders slouched. She had no rebuttal, and my temper stalled.

We waited in a room heavy with argument, slowly fading the more we breathed.

Finally, she murmured, “I’m sorry, okay? I just…I needed to do something. It’s been a tough couple of weeks.”

I did my best to relax, backing up and leaning against the doorframe with my arms crossed. “Why? What’s going on?” There was no surer way to make my anger dissipate than thinking she was hurt or sad. “Tell me, Little Ribbon.”

She glanced up with an unhappy smile. “Do you know you hardly ever call me that anymore?”

I opened my mouth to argue, racking my brains for a time when I last used it. Sadness filled my heart when I found none recently. “You’re right. I haven’t.”

“Why?” Her question ached with so much more than just that one request. My bones physically throbbed to cut across the distance and sit beside her on the bed. I wanted nothing more than to gather her in my arms and crush her close. To hug like we used to. To kiss like we used to. To promise her that this might be hard for both of us, but we would never drift apart the way we seemed to be drifting right now.

The silence stretched, this time scratching my skin and drawing blood.

I forced myself to stay in the doorway, no longer comfortable to enter her bedroom with all the strangeness flowing between us. “You know why,” I murmured.

I hadn’t meant to say that.

I hadn’t meant to say anything.

She stiffened, her lips smashed together as her eyes glowed with something that took an axe to my chest, cleaving me in two.

We stared.

And stared.

And when my body prickled and blood boiled, and I was so close to doing something I really shouldn’t do, I cleared my throat and the moment was gone.

I smirked, going for light-hearted, when really, I ought to scold her for such a reckless colour. “I should probably march you to a hairdresser and get that colour stripped out, but…it suits you.”

And it did. It suited her too much. It made her skin pop white and lips burn red. It made her look older, which was not a good thing.

Her shoulders fell, her tension rippling away to settle on the bedding beneath her lotus-crossed legs. “Thanks.” She tugged on the end of her cobalt plait. “I know you don’t understand, but sometimes…well, sometimes it feels like we’re still alone in the forest, you know? Surrounded but with no one to talk to. At least, in the forest, the trees can’t repeat your secrets.”