Want to hear a story? It’s kind of funny, really.
Once upon a time there was a girl named…
Okay screw that. I'm not good with these types of things. It’s not even a fairy tale anyways.
Shit, I think I forgot her name. Hold on, it’s coming back. Lydia. That was her name. And she was gorgeous. Lydia was that one perfect petal everybody envied in eighth grade. No acne, no chipped nails, no oversized clothes. Her hair was my favourite thing about her. Even from afar, I can spot it and immediately identify the girl. It was the kind of silky hair you see in those tangerine shampoo commercials. Long and luscious.
Lydia had followers, a lot of them. But when a girl has so many followers, she also picks up some haters along the way. Most of them were nerdy girls who probably didn’t even know how to brush their own hair. One of them had the nerve to come to our clubhouse during business hours. I can still horribly imagine what the spitty girl with retainers said as she stomped on the fragile wooden floor of the treehouse. She had a bit of saliva dribbling down her chin, like a drooling wild dog, her brown bushy hair in ugly knots. “I want you to cut Lydia's hair.”
Of course, we refused. In a rude way, too.
It wasn’t cool, cutting someone’s hair wasn’t what the club does. Well, not with my business, at least. We can help you find a way to cheat on a test, or change your grade on a report card, sure. Hell, we can even frame a teacher and not get caught (been there, done that two times). But making another person feel all bad about themselves? Especially cutting Lydia's hair? There was no way we’d do it. We didn’t want to get stirred in awry middle school drama.
So we said no to her big fat face with her spit clogged retainers. We didn’t feel the least bit bad about declining. At first, anyways.
But the girl had something, a special payment. She opened her right sweaty hand, a rusty coin in her hands. A very familiar coin. My eyes could’ve popped out by the sight of it. It was something we needed. It was Luke's coin. I wasn’t sure if the girl had stolen it or found it on the ground, but we had to get it back for Luke.
You probably don’t understand, but it was Luke's. Luke was that little flower everybody has in their group. He was sensitive. A cry baby. Our little bro.
So without even making a judicious choice with my friends, I agreed.
I really didn’t like that retainer girl. The way she smiled so evilly, the weird cackling laugh she made as she heard me say ‘yes’. She even threw the coin at us as Luke frantically tried to find it from the messy floor. I’m pretty sure she changed schools, thank god.
Back to the story though, I had asked Lydia to a movie the next day by her locker. All she had to say was one thing, one little word that had two letters and her life would've been practically saved. But she said yes, trusting herself with me. And I was screwed.
And . . . you probably know what happened after. That’s right, snip snip. The only thing I was thankful for was that her hair was in a ponytail, which only made my scissors snip a few times in the dimly lit theatre. I never got to see her reaction, because I made some dumb excuse to go to the washroom and pathetically walked away from her.
The next day, she didn’t come to school. Or the next. I never saw the strawberry blonde ever again. Nobody did.
I guess it’s pretty cowardly, now that I think of it. Cutting a girl’s hair for a measly coin? Yeah, I had regretted to a great extent back then. I still think about now and then, but it’s just the past to me now. An event that I’ll never go back to, and will never face again.
But it was also an event that had caught my life in a whirlwind for four years straight and still counting.