The kitchen floor was covered with newspaper with a wooden chair as the centrepiece. I looked wistfully at my reflection, touching the pink streaks in my hair then glanced accusingly at the yellow leaflet on the kitchen counter.

I positioned myself on the chair and began carefully massaging the brown hair dye into my streaks. The pink had already begun to fade, but I was still put out that I had to get rid of them so quickly.

My parents would be happy though. They had been so shocked when I had returned home from the library with a totallly new, and what they referred to as 'strange', hairstyle. They didn't like it when I tried to be different.

The strong fumes seared my nose and I quickly wrapped the cling wrap around my scalp. It escaped me how cling wrap could possibly make the dye take to my hair better but I figured I'd give the professionals the benefit of the doubt.

"That's done," I put the remains of the box and its contents on the table and reached for the yellow pages. I leafed through it and halted when I reached the page on Internet Cafes.