Don't Worry, It Will Grow Back

Marcy held her head in her hands and wept as more and more of her once golden blonde hair fell to the floor in flecks and clumps. Each snip of the stylist's shear drove her further into despair. Before this, Marcy was the envy of her school. Everyone knew that her hair was her pride and joy. She had invested a small fortune in vitamin shampoos and miracle serums. Each day was a new surprise for others to marvel at. She was almost never seen sitting still without twiddling it in some manner or another. Her vanity was despised by other girls she outshined.

She was constantly combing and babying it. It was not uncommon for her to style and restyle several times before deciding on how to wear it. Braids, buns, ponytails, retro curls, all of which she placed with particular attention. Crimping, curling and straightening had become a favorite hobby. Marcy was a hoarder of hair care products and all kinds of headbands and other ornaments. She made sure she was the prettiest peacock.

Boys would often vie for attention, longing to run their fingers through those tresses while exploiting other intimacies in the janitors closet or in the backs of their cars. Marcy fed off this attention and disregarded all propriety concerning the feelings of others.

Her locker was not unlike those of most girls her age. Pictures of boybands, make up bags and fashion magazines occupied the storage. Being the popular girl did create a problem of constant incoming letters. Some of which were vomitus confessions of love or indecent suggestions of sexual depravity, with her as the focus of said desires. Others were from girls who admired and worshiped her. Gushing of her beauty as a guise to perhaps gain her favor and teach them how to make their hair as pretty as hers.

Marcy would sometimes pick a poor soul or two and act like she cared for them. Often, she would recommend the most atrocious styles and looks. She would give terrible makeovers and falsely say how beautiful they looked. Marcy enjoyed their confusion when other students would make fun of them afterward. She would later ridicule them for thinking they could ever be anything more than ugly losers and how she thought it was so cute that someone as beautiful as her could ever be friends with them.

Once, Marcy had gotten into trouble after a new girl got attention for having a long, intricate braid of chestnut brown hair. This young woman genuinely helped other girls feel better about themselves and gladly helped them with beauty tips and was sincerely happy to do so. Quickly, like a snowball effect people began to forget about Marcy and loved to be around someone who was more welcoming and kinder to others.

 When Marcy’s boyfriend complimented the new girl, she could stand it no longer. She refused to be dethroned and she was going to make it loud and clear. She was particularly pissed after a make out session with her boyfriend when he suggested she should dye her hair “What, like pink or something?” she asked. “Nah, that’s groovy and all but maybe brown, like that new chick, now that would be rad! Don’t you think?” he said.

She responded with silence briefly before slapping him hard in the face. “Oh, there will definitely be a change” She said and stomped away. She was going to get that little bitch and she was gong to get her good!

One day Marcy approached the young lady and began to chat with her. “Your hair is just so pretty. Did it take a very long time to grow?” she asked.

The girl was slightly hesitant of Marcy’s sudden interest in her but she smiled and replied nonetheless. They talked for a little while when Marcy inquired “Have you ever thought about donating your hair? Some little girl out there with cancer would be so thrilled to have a wig that beautiful. She reached her had behind the girl’s head as if to touch her gently. “You know…I think I saw Brandon talking to you the other day. Just what were the two of you talking about dear?” Marcy asked, her voice sickeningly sweet.

“Oh…that? He was just saying hi.” The girl replied, hanging her head, trying to hide the red flush in her cheeks…Marcy did not like that at all. She suddenly whipped the girls head back by the end of her braid and a loud slash sounded in the room.

In one hand Marcy held the girl’s braid. In the other was a large pair of scissors. "Don't worry, it will grow back." After that day Marcy was the talk of the school again. Not only was she beautiful but now she was truly cruel and all the buzz about her egged her on.

After one of Marcy's trysts with the school quarterback she sauntered through a back alley in hopes to make it home before her parents. She had been late a few times this week. If she was late again her mom would cancel her hair appointment. She shuddered at the thought of having to endure split ends for too long.

Roughly she was yanked by that gorgeous hair and pulled to the ground. A gaggle of her classmates kicked her repeatedly. She was kicked, punched and spat on before they backed off momentarily before a cruel laugh was heard in the darkness.

Marcy gasped when she felt the thick, viscous liquid pouring on her. Two girls held her down until her head was absolutely soaked with industrial glue. The girls resumed their punishment by smearing the garbage from one of the trash cans in her hair. After they were satisfied, they left her weeping.

Now, in the salon she was distraught by the sound of dry crunching as her tacky hair was no longer soft and alluring but now straw like and wilted. Her hair was so short now that patches of her scalp could be seen in the horribly botched pixie cut. A new horror made her stomach drop when she had heard the new awful sound. Marcy screamed when the stylist flipped the on switch of the buzzer. With a cooing voice, the stylist tried to comfort her.

"Don't worry, it will grow back." she said.