Angel Hair

   Her beautiful, pale blonde hair fell in flowing waves to her waist. It verged on white, and when light struck it I swear she had a halo. She was as beautiful as her hair was and just as fascinating. I had never talked to her but merely saw her pass in the school halls, her hair trailing in wisps behind her. Junior year I believed it was fate that she sat in front of me in most classes because I loved looking at the back of her head. Admiring her hair everyday became something I looked forward to. She is the most petite and innocent looking girl I ever met, an angel on earth. Her name is Jane Mockella.

   This week was the best week I ever had. Our English teacher placed my class in random groups of two, and one group of three, to analyze a story. It was the tale of Icarus, the kid that flew too close to the sun and got what was coming to him. What an idiot. But it wasn't the story I was interested in, it was my partner. I became more convinced she was an angel for my prayers had been answered. Being partners with Jane was a whole new experience than watching from afar. Her voice was sweet and she read well. For a whole week we worked on the project, and during that time I was on cloud nine. The way she tucked her hair back behind her ears when it swept, like a shining silk curtain, over her blue eyes as she wrote was mesmerizing. The waves and curls draping over her shoulders in a smooth waterfall and spilling onto the desktop. 

   I was completely and utterly infatuated with her and I dreaded the project's completion. We talked, we smiled, and it felt like a dream. I felt as if I were in heaven. On Friday at the end of class she stood up as the bell rang and began to walk away, curls bouncing. I was worried. After talking to her in person, watching her like a birdwatcher obsessed with a swan seemed devastating. Last second I plucked up the courage to ask her if she could help me with my math homework next week. I panicked wondering what I would do if She said no, thinking She would, but I was wrong. She turned to me, her hair swishing to the side brilliantly and paused as if giving it much thought before saying she would with a friendly smile. I smile back "Thanks, you're a saint."

   On Monday after school I waited at a table outside for Jane to arrive. Glancing at my watch I look around and spot her immediately, and I'm astonished. The flickering yellow lights of the classrooms and hallways didn't do her justice. The sunlight made her glow. Her long locks of hair sparkling as they danced around her. The breeze blew her hair back and I pictured it as bright, snow-white, feathered wings behind her. Oddly thankful that she rarely tied her hair up. As she approached the table she offered a smile in greeting as she sat across from me, pulling out her math books. I don't remember a time I had been more interested in math as I was that day.

 After about an hour we got the math done, and as I stood to thank her she grabbed my hand and I must admit I was temporarily unable to function. We talked for a minute or two and then went our separate ways. My life was perhaps changed forever.

   I thought about it much, barely able to sleep that night. It consumed my mind and burned a hole in my thoughts. I'm not one for making decisions, let alone right ones. Compared to her I was a drab, ordinary, teenage boy. Why on earth she would like me, let alone ask to go out with me I don't know. I didn't know how to respond and told her I would think about it. Why would I hesitate? A pretty girl, way out of my league asking me? Impossible, and yet true. I know exactly what my response will be and yet I'm not sure if I should say it. My world had never been so strange and I wonder if my response would be a sin.

   "No" I say quietly. Her smile disappears along with the light in her eyes, and she crosses her arms, uncertain as I am. She remains silent and I don't know what to say to her. I don't really have a reason for saying no, I just don't believe I like her in that way. I don't understand it, and after attempting to explain it I can tell neither does she. I'm at a loss for words and we go our separate ways, possibly for the last time. I think she may have loved me, though I don't have an inkling why. But I do know she could easily find or get better and that it wasn't a big deal for her to lose a nobody like me.

   But as usual I am wrong again. To her she was still losing something and it was a big deal. How do I know that now? Because she cut off her hair. All of her light, lovely tresses cut off to above her shoulders. She also dyed it black. Black as night, black as sin, black as my regret. She no longer looked as she once had to me. She had changed because of what I had done and I got her message. If she was an angel then I was a devil I suppose. I cried. I never thought I would be the kind of person to make a person do irrational or bad things. Things like cutting off the most gorgeous hair I had ever laid eyes upon. Like cutting off an angel's wings. I didn't love her but I was heartbroken because of what I did. Because it's my fault I lost what I had loved most, her angel hair.