Ruth had been dyeing her own hair since the fifth grade, first in colors you could buy in boxes at the supermarket, then in crazy, beautiful colors like mermaid green and poodle pink, but Val had only dyed her hair once. Val leaned down to kick off her sneakers and saw herself in the small mirror on her locker door, strands of orangey hair peeking out from a green bandanna. She liked that role it made her feel safe. Val and Ruth had been friends forever, for so long that Val was used to being the overshadowed one, the “normal” one, the one who set up the witty one-liners, not the one who delivered them. She took a deep drag on her clove cigarette and blew smoke in the direction of one of Val’s teammates. Her hair was glossy black, paler at the roots and threaded with purple braids. Ruth’s brows were thin pencil lines, her eyes outlined with black kohl and red shadow.
Ruth sat down on a green bench, looking glamorous in a vintage smoking jacket and long velvet skirt. “What are you doing down here? I thought being near sweat gave you hives.” “Sorry,” Val forced herself to say, but the sudden surprise of anger hadn’t entirely dissipated and she felt like an idiot.
“Just a joke, Princess Badass of Badassia.” Hands raised in mock surrender, Ruth laughed. Other girls looked up from changing into sweats and started to giggle. A can of soda hit the concrete floor of the locker room and rolled, sticky brown liquid fizzing as it pooled.
Valerie Russell felt something cold touch the small of her back and spun around, striking without thinking. LEWIS CARROLL, THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that! Now, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place.
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