I am at the local pharmacy, buying yet another hair-dye for my mom. My mom is a beautician in training; my brother, Jacob, my sister, Sarah, and me are the test subjects. Presently, my hair is bleach-blonde, with green highlights. There is a girl working here today, who I see every time I come here. I know her from somewhere, but I cannot put my finger on it. She is a very pretty girl; she reminds me of the books Sarah likes to read. The ones about the girls with elegance and grace; old-fashioned young woman. I could be wrong, but that is the impression she gives me. I wish I knew her name; my sister is very good at remembering names. There are just those people that you recognize, but do not know their name.

"Focus Daniel," I tell myself, turning my attention back to the hair-dye selection.

I remember the day I returned home from college. My mom had dropped the bomb on me that I would be assisting her with her beauty lessons. Ever since, my hair has gone through drastic color changes. Mom told me to get something that would start me back towards my natural color. I settled for a medium brown. I hope that it will cover the green.

"Hi," I say, with a friendly smile. "How're you doing?"

"I'm very well," the girl replies, ringing up my item. "Another color, huh? $4.75."

"Ok," I give her a ten dollar bill. "Yeah, my mom is in beautician classes. She practices on me. It's not that bad, right?"

The girl smiles and shakes her head as she counts my change. This is the best chance as any, if I am going to learn who she is.

"You know," I go on, "you look familiar."

"I service you every week," she says, giving me the change.

"I know," I take the change and drop it in the donation can on the counter. "But I mean, like...Like I've seen you somewhere else before you started working here."

She nods "High school." She places the dye in a bag with the receipt. "We were in all the same classes for four years."

I look at her and smile as I take the bag.

"Heather Diaz," I say, reading her name tag as I memorize her name.

"And you're Daniel Harden," Heather replies, smiling back. "The police chief's son. You have yourself a nice day."

I smile even more "You too."

I walk towards the exit door and am halfway out when I turn, smile and wave at Heather one last time. I wait for her to wave back before disappearing to the parking lot. As I walk towards my car, I start to think about my high school years. There were so many people that I passed every day, and Heather Diaz was one of them. I remember a lot about her. It is no wonder she looks so familiar.