| Chapter Twelve |
| Abs: I shuffled into the big warehouse where this show called 'hair show' was. Since when has there ever been hair shows? I knew this was going to go wrong. All wrong. I had never cut a peice of hair in my life. Whitney stood by one of the swivel chairs, arms crossed, tapping her foot and occasionally checking her watch. When she noticed me she rushed over. "Nicole Taylor you are in deep," she harshly whispered, grabbing my arm. She tossed me a black apron like thing and I tied it around my waist. "You are in the chair next to mine. Please please make this good. If we win we get loads of money and we need to fix up the flat cos you know the lads won't do it." The pleading in her eyes almost broke my heart. "I'll do my best," I told her, wondering what my best exactly was. Nikki: One hour until Party In The Park and I was still lost. The only dances I knew were Everybody Get Up and Got the Feelin' and we weren't preforming either one. I had to find out a way to get out of this. I was walking around backstage, chewing on my nail trying to decide what to do. Fall and break something? No, that'd hurt too much. Go out there and make a total fool of myself and Abs? No way. I glanced over to a long table of food. Suddenly, a light bulb went out in my head. Perfect. Whitney: I smiled broadly as my third haircut was perfected and they got up and out of their chair. One of the judges came by and looked over her large rimmed glasses in satisfaction at me. She took a quick glance at Nikki who was studying an older woman's grey hair. She was still on her first haircut and was running way behind. After the lady wrote something on her clipboard and walking away I approached Nikki. "Nik," I said, pulling her away from the old lady. "I respect your decision to be presice and all but get moving!!!" "Oh...k," she just simply replied. I rolled my eyes and headed back to my work section as another young lady sat down in my chair. J: I was walking around backstage listening to the screaming crowd and going over the dance moves in my head when I spotted Abs sitting in a chair with a not too pleasent look on his face. "Mate, are you feeling okay?" I asked, concerned. He shook his head. "No, man, I think I'm going to be sick," he replied. "I think it was something I ate. Like food poisening or something." "Oh, hold on I'll go find Bob," I said, reassuring him. I rushed over and got Bob, the manager for PITP. "Mate, I think Abs has food poisening," I told him. He followed me back to where Abs sat looking very sick. "I'm sorry, Abs, you can't preform like this," he told him. "No, but I have to!" Abs exclaimed. "No, you don't, it'll be fine," I told him. "Everyone will understand." He nodded his head reluctantly. "J! We're going on!" Ritchie yelled to me. "Take care," I told him, putting on my mic and heading toward front stage. Chapter thirteen... |