three bears

This is just an excerpt, the beginning of a mostly true story of three girls who are just right:


They played their roles dutifully, the three girls. There was Red, Blondie, and Brown. Red was the artist, and more strikingly she was the smart one. Blondie held all the money smarts in the group, and was the responsible one. Brown was a little anxious, and was the funny one. They played their roles so clearly, right down to the hair color they were nicknamed for. With flowing auburn hair sometimes tousled on the top of her head, sometimes cropped short in a flapper bob, always when the light hit it you were reminded of warm red sunsets, or the red clay you would sometimes hit if you dug deep enough, she was Red. Her long blonde hair reached startling lengths at one point, plaited like a young German girl, or twisted up the back of her head and held in place with a clip, with waves like the Sahara desert and the color too, she was Blondie. There were times when her chocolate brown hair wouldn’t be brushed for months, and at other times cut so close to the head from behind she would be mistaken for a boy, an edible brown, an earthy brown, she was Brown. They were young adult book series kind of friends, never staggering from their descriptions at the beginning of each book. Never, except for maybe sometimes.