Dr. Brown allowed me to leave the hospital a few days later after testing everything a doctor could possibly test at least three times. I had slowly learned to control my “increase in hearing,” and was now able to tune out many of the voices I heard and focus on what was important, or so I thought.
“Livvie,” my mother me called from downstairs. “Livvie, can you come down, please?” I followed her order and met her at the front door. “Dad and I can’t take very much time off of work, so you’re going to be alone for the next few days,” she said.
“I thought I had school,” I said.
She looked surprised as if I had missed some huge part of what Dr. Brown had said the day we left. I probably did. “Livvie, you’re not going back to school for a while.” I could feel my eyes widen at the thought of being alone. I hit my forehead with the palm of my hand, angered at my own stupidity. She hugged me and reminded me what time she would be home, how to work the microwave, what to do, what not to do and that I had to feed the dog, Jagger. Then she left, and I was alone.
I groaned and walked into the kitchen, searching for my favorite juice to bury my sorrows in. Finding it, I poured a glass and sat down at the kitchen table. I thought for a moment before reaching to take a drink. I never found the glass. I looked down and watched the glass of juice pull away from my hand. “What in the world?” I thought and reached for it again, only this time I shot the glass across the room, where it shattered on the ground. I cleaned the mess before deciding to try again. I retrieved a plastic cup from deep inside the cupboards and placed it across the counter from the sink. I then turned on the faucet and concentrated on bending the running water and placing it into the cup. I watched patiently as the running water began to move with slight abnormality before making its way across the room, floating in mid-air and landing in the cup. The moment the water landed in the cup, I felt another change. I turned off the faucet and instinctively rushed to the nearest mirror, gasping at what I saw. I watched, awestruck as my once short, pine-bark-brown hair turned blue starting at the scalp and trickling down, covering the rest of it in the same midnight blue color. My eyebrows quickly followed, becoming midnight blue as well. I rubbed my temples, hoping it would help and suddenly my hair would be back to its regular color. No use. I turned the faucet on and splashed my face with water, hoping it would change and I would look like a normal person again. It didn’t help. I yelled in frustration as I began to pace back and forth. “This is insane,” I said aloud. “Who has blue hair?” I asked, touching the top of my head, I hoped there was a logical explanation as to why my hair had suddenly turned blue. “Blue,” I yelled. “Of every color in the universe my hair could possibly suddenly change into, it chose blue,” I said. “What am I going to do? I can’t go to the store because I don’t have a way to get there, and I most certainly can’t tell everyone what happened because they’ll worry too much,” I said to my dog, who simply stared at me with his big brown eyes. I need a logical solution,” I told him despite really talking to myself.