A passive aggressive girl is humbled when her sister is sick and asks her enemy to help. Originally written 2013
The group of girls encroached like a mob upon the unconscious girl, carrying flashlights like torches and brandishing scissors like a pitchfork. One of them snickered, setting off a ripple of half-stifled giggles from the surrounding accomplices. "Shhh!" Lisa silenced them with a glare from her frigid eyes, as only a cheerleader could. She yanked the scissors out of a girl's hand and purposefully knelt down next to the sleeping beauty who'd been invited to the slumber party as the unsuspecting sacrificial lamb. Tossing her own hair over her shoulder in mocking deviousness, she lifted the heavy rope of hair from her prey's head and strained to make two large cuts, lopping off a huge chunk. To Lisa's astonishment, the hair did not cut easily, and she was unable to chop off the whole ponytail before her victim awoke like a zombie from the dead. She sat straight up and shrieked like someone had slashed her arm rather than her hair. When her eyes gained sight and she saw the shocked girls standing motionless around her in a tableau, she had not anger or sadness in them, but agony. Tears gushed from her eyes as she grasped her wounded mane and clutched it to her chest. For the rest of the night, she rocked back and forth, moaning and sobbing like an incoherent child, delirious with fever. No one had the guts to call her mom to pick her up; no one went upstairs to fetch Lisa's parents for help. Lisa herself had fled the scene, a fugitive guilty of spoiling a precious symbol of beauty, like a cruel boy crushing a delicate butterfly just because he could. The other girls shrunk back to their sleeping bags and pretended to sleep through the mournful crying. No one noticed Lisa's little sister who had watched silently in the dark hallway. As everyone else retreated, 7-yr-old Wendy crept forward and quietly swept up the discarded hair into a little shoe box. She carefully collected every last hair she could find and delicately placed the lid on the box before sneaking back to her room unseen. So the rumor was true! It was said that Theresa Mason never cut her hair because it physically hurt her. She didn't even shave her legs because she claimed it felt like pins and needles stabbing her when it grew back. As odd as this alleged disease sounded, people generally dismissed it because the girl seemed as angelic as her hair and was impossible to dislike...except for Lisa who resented her like Snow White's step mother. No one was really close friends with her, but no one but Lisa was ever mean to her. With thick golden hair that reached her waist, Theresa, nicknamed Tresemme or Tress, had, without a doubt, the most beautiful hair anyone had ever seen. Amazingly, it would sparkle in the sun, like she had spritzed it with glitter. Even on cloudy days, it had some special kind of glow, like a halo on an angel, except it flowed down her back instead of circling the top of her head. Somehow, her hair always stayed in place, even when blown by the wind, and she never seemed to need a brush to keep it silky smooth and tangle-free. She was the envy of many girls who couldn't help but touch her hair when they walked by, as if her locks had an irresistible lure. Tress was absent from school for a week after the slumber party. No one could blame her; they felt sorry that she'd been humiliated so. But the day she returned to school, everyone stopped and stared. And it wasn't just the buoyant smile she wore on her face as if nothing had happened. No, it was the hair itself. Knowing part of her ponytail had been snipped off half-way down her back, they thought she'd have to cut the other half to match the length. But that was not the case. In fact, there was no apparent loss whatsoever! Some questioned whether it happened at all; maybe they only thought Lisa had cut it, and that Tress had woken up before the deed was done. And that became the consensus.
* * *
There was a knock at the door and when Tress went to answer it, she was surprised to see Lisa standing there. They hadn't said a word to each other in two years following the hair-cutting incident, and Tress had no idea what to say. Apparently, neither did Lisa, and they stood there for a few minutes, staring at each other awkwardly. "My little sister has cancer," Lisa blurted before suddenly bursting into tears. Not knowing what else to do, Tress put her arm around Lisa and guided her into the house and gently set her on the couch, taking a seat across from her. She was aware that Wendy had been battling cancer for the last year, but she had no idea why Lisa would come to her looking for solace. Tress just sat there quietly until Lisa stopped crying, completely bewildered by her company. "She's dying," she finally said. "The doctors said so. The chemo isn't working." Tress wondered again why Lisa had chosen to confide in her. Lisa swallowed hard and looked at Tress square in the eyes. "Wendy's dying wish is to have your hair. She asked me to ask you to make a wig for her. Everyone knows you have gorgeous hair, and Wendy's heart is set on having it." "Just get a wig from somewhere else and say it's from me," Tress said flatly. "She won't know the difference. Locks of Love gives cancer patients wigs for free. You know I can't cut my hair -- mine isn't free." "I know I have no right to ask you this after what I did to you, but it's not my request. It's Wendy's," she explained. But then she started to feel embarrassed. With a half smile, like she didn't quite believe it herself, she explained why she really sought Tress' hair: "Wendy insists that your hair has the power to heal her." "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Tress said vehemently. "Is this another one of your pranks? How could you use your own dying sister as a way to torment me?" "It's not like that!" Lisa exclaimed. "Wendy rescued a baby bird that had fallen out of the tree in our backyard. It was so young, it didn't even have any feathers. It had broken its legs and was too young to fly. Mom had told her that she needed to leave it alone and let nature take its course, but the bird's mom never came to get it. After two days, it was starving to death and wouldn't even move, so Wendy picked it up and put it in a shoe box. She'd saved your hair from when I cut it at the slumber party and she made a little nest out of it. Mom said it would be dead by morning and we were planning on burying it. But by morning, it had made a full recovery. Its legs were healed and it had even grown feathers!" "You think my hair did that? You think it's magic?" Tress asked incredulously. "Maybe," Lisa admitted. "Or maybe it's not magic. I was thinking more like...divine." Tress got up and opened the front door as an invitation for Lisa to leave. But Lisa didn't move. "There's one more thing." The tone in Lisa's voice changed as she said that last sentence. Her face softened and she said it like a humble plea. It felt so sincere, Tress shut the door and sat back down. "The night I cut your hair..." Lisa hesitated. "Go on," she urged Lisa. "Everyone else thinks it didn't really happen, but obviously Wendy kept the evidence. But even if she hadn't, I know I cut your hair. Even if you came back to school with not a hair missing. Somehow your hair grew back in record time. And..." she paused, not quite sure how to explain herself. "I felt something strange when I cut your hair. Like an electric shock. Like the scissors conducted some sort of life force. The next day, I noticed my jeans were 2 inches too short, so I measured myself and I'd grown overnight!" "Did you tell anyone?" Tress asked. "No," she said. "I was too scared. And no one would believe me anyway. But you have some sort of special power. Like Sampson." Tress stared at her in silence, not knowing if she could trust her. Finally, she said quietly, "I will give Wendy my hair, but you can not tell a soul. No visitors. No pictures. And she must destroy it after she wears it." "Deal."
* * *
Tress made good on her promise. The nurses in the hospital clasped their hands to their chests with wonder at the beauty of the wig. When they told Wendy it made her look like a princess, they weren't just trying to cheer up a sick cancer patient; they really meant it. Wendy simply glowed, as bright and precious as the hair piece she wore. Even more peculiar was the fact that the hair of the wig covered not just Wendy's head, but reached all the way down to her ankles. Tress had shaved her head bald and given all of her hair to the little girl. It only took a week for Wendy to make a full recovery. Medically unexplainable, some doctors said it was a divine miracle. No one suspected the hair piece, and certainly no one connected the miracle to Tress. Wendy left the hospital once they confirmed the cancer was completely gone, but Lisa continued to be a visitor there. Every single day for a month, she went to see Tress who had been admitted for unknown reasons the day she cut her hair. The doctors could find nothing wrong with her, but Tress spent that whole month in agony. At the end of the month, though, Tress had a full head of hair again, all the way down to her waist. If you look at the senior standout section of their high school yearbook, it would not surprise you to see a picture of Theresa Mason, known as Tress. She was awarded the title of "Loveliest Locks." But the person who nominated her for the honor did not do it because Tress had the prettiest hair. She did it because that hair saved her sister's life. Indeed, Tresemme had the loveliest locks this side of heaven.
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