Pinocchio

"Your hair looks nice!" Eleanor and her mother had said to him after his haircut.

His hair was definitely better now that he had someone cut it for him. When he had cut his hair in his bedroom, the metal scissors had gotten sweaty. His hands were shaking, too, which did not help the outcome at all.

The three of them jumped back into Ms. Jīn's car, then began to drive down to the nearest mall. Eleanor's mother rambled on about her daughter's dropping grades, Eleanor countering her with explanations about stress and things. He sat quietly in the back seat, fingering his new haircut. After reaching the mall, the three bought clothes from different stores, grabbing whatever they could off of shelves. Occasionally, he tried on hoodies and such for them to see, and Eleanor and her mother gave full attention with enthusiasm. He smiled, but not wholeheartedly. There were moments when he had to stop and breathe. Focus on the present. Breathe and smile.

But it was difficult to smile. His mother had just kicked him out of the house, how could he smile when the pain in the back of his heart just felt so much worse? 

As the day neared its end, they drove back to Eleanor's house and placed the boy's luggage into a guest bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed once Eleanor and her mother went to sleep, holding his numb hands in his lap. And suddenly, breaking the tormenting silence, tears began to fall from his eyes. He moaned - quiet enough not to wake the others but loud enough to let out his pain. The world was falling apart right in front of him. The devil had to be laughing, surely.

But why him? Why did he have to feel this way, why did his mother have to push him away?

Leaning over gently with the pitter-patter from his tears, he grabbed a small book from out of his black backpack. "The Adventures of Pinocchio by C. Collodi" was printed neatly in brown on the front cover, a book in which his mother had read to him when he was little. The boy skipped back to the page he had ripped out, the very last page, in which it should have said:

" Surrounded by so much splendor, the Marionette hardly knew what he was doing. He rubbed his eyes two or three times, wondering if he were still asleep or awake and decided he must be awake.

'And where is Father?' he cried suddenly. He ran into the next room, and there stood Geppetto, grown years younger overnight, spick and span in his new clothes and gay as a lark in the morning. He was once more Mastro Geppetto, the wood carver, hard at work on a lovely picture frame, decorating it with flowers and leaves, and heads of animals.

'Father, Father, what has happened? Tell me if you can,' cried Pinocchio, as he ran and jumped on his Father's neck.

'This sudden change in our house is all your doing, my dear Pinocchio,' answered Geppetto.

'What have I to do with it?'

'Just this. When bad boys become good and kind, they have the power of making their homes gay and new with happiness.'

'I wonder where the old Pinocchio of wood has hidden himself?'

'There he is,' answered Geppetto. And he pointed to a large Marionette leaning against a chair, head turned to one side, arms hanging limp, and legs twisted under him.

After a long, long look, Pinocchio said to himself with great content:

'How ridiculous I was as a Marionette! And how happy I am, now that I have become a real boy!'"