Stas went off to his room to change and take a shower, while I—armed with two boxes of hair dye—headed for Dasha and Tanya's room. Even before I knocked, I could hear bright, ringing laughter from the other side of the door. I knocked lightly.
Viola let me in at once, her face lit with a cheerful smile, still laughing so hard she was nearly in tears. Dasha was sprawled on the bed, laughing just as uncontrollably, one hand covering the lower half of her face. Her hair had long since dried, but the color hadn't improved in the slightest. Ideally, she should have waited a day or two and gone to a professional. Unfortunately, Dasha didn't have even that much time, which meant we were going to have to take another risk. It certainly couldn't get any worse—but whether another dye job could make it even a little better, I couldn't say for sure.
"So, the tears are over and now we're laughing?" I asked.
Dasha sat up abruptly and began patting the bed in a flustered search for something.
"Viola and I found this video—it's hilarious!" she managed between fits of laughter. "I'll show you!"
Realizing she couldn't find her phone by touch alone, Dasha jumped off the bed, immediately spotted it, and grabbed it.
"Damn it, it's locked again. Viol, can you unlock it?" She took a step toward her friend, but instead Viola simply said the six-digit code out loud, letting Dasha unlock the phone herself.
Well, that was unexpected. Did Viola really trust Dasha enough to give her such easy access to her personal things—despite all the secrets she kept? I'd noticed how quickly their friendship had grown stronger, but this still surprised me. Then again, knowing Viola and how casually she sometimes used telekinesis among ordinary mortals, I could just as easily chalk it up to carelessness. Whether her gesture came from genuine trust or simple thoughtlessness was hard to say. Either way, I was clearly not part of her inner circle, close enough to ask.
Dasha opened the video that had sent them into hysterics, but I couldn't find anything funny about it. I felt sorry for the unfortunate people featured in the compilation, whose pets suddenly went berserk and tore through their apartments, destroying everything in their path—from shattered dishes to toppled heavy shelves. At least no one had been hurt.
I offered a faint smile, unable to muster more, and glanced around the room.
"Where's Tanya?"
Dasha handed the phone back to Viola, the video restarting, and they burst into laughter all over again—so genuine and carefree that I even felt a twinge of envy. This time, the tears streaming down Dasha's cheeks had nothing to do with grief, and that was a wonderful change, entirely thanks to Viola. It was a good thing she'd stayed behind with Dasha instead of coming to the supermarket with me. I wouldn't have been able to lift her spirits like that.
"Tanya went to watch the volleyball team practice," Viola explained at last, wiping the corners of her eyes with her sleeve once she'd calmed down. "There was an argument at breakfast between our classmates and the girls' team. The guys claimed volleyball isn't a real sport at all—just a waste of time. So the girls challenged them, since it's supposedly so easy and doesn't require any training. There's going to be a match tonight."
"Wow," I said, my eyebrows shooting up. "Those guys like to live dangerously."
"Oh, I can't wait to watch them humiliate themselves," Viola replied with satisfaction. "Too bad we ran out of chips yesterday."
"Stas brought a couple of bags," I reassured her.
Viola frowned."Wait a second," she said suddenly. "Where have you even been all this time?"
"Looking for a solution to Dasha's very, very small problem," I replied, shaking the boxes of hair dye. The bottles inside thudded dully against the cardboard.
Dasha snatched one of the boxes from my hands and began examining it. Not trusting her eyes, she leaned across the bed, grabbed her glasses from the nightstand, perched them on her nose, and studied the model's photo again.
Her face fell. She stared at me in silence, as if trying to figure out whether I was being serious—or just cruelly joking.
Viola held out her open palm, and I placed the second box into it. After a brief appraisal, she shrugged.
"Why not?" she said, extending her arm and visually matching the shade on the box to Dasha's hair. "It could actually work."
"I think so too," I agreed at once, nodding eagerly and fixing my gaze on Dasha, silently urging her to say yes.
But Dasha hesitated, and for a moment I thought she might be upset again. Viola had distracted her so thoroughly from the disaster earlier that she'd almost forgotten about the chick-yellow color now glowing on her head as if it had a light of its own.
"But it's such a bright shade," Dasha said uncertainly.
"With your dress, it'll look just—" Viola turned to me and began gesturing in the air, searching for the right word, clearly hoping I'd help her out.
"Absolutely fire?" I offered, grasping at the first phrase that came to mind.
"Yes, exactly!" Viola seized on it enthusiastically, exaggerating her excitement in an effort to infect Dasha with confidence. "You'll look just like Jessica Rabbit!"
"Who?" Dasha and I asked in unison, and Viola rolled her eyes.
Shoving the box of dye back into my hands, she stepped closer to Dasha, placed both hands on her shoulders, and said in the tone of a seasoned professional:
"This is exactly what you need. Just trust us."
Dasha pressed her lips together and let out a weary sigh.
"It can't get any worse, right?"