Mona of Dreamweaver (Book 1 of The Sisterhood Trilogy)

Chapter 10

I was tired. Tired from people talking behind my back. I was insulted. Insulted because they were laughing at my appearance. I was embarrassed. Embarrassed because I let my anger get the best of me again. I felt ashamed. Ashamed because I knew this was going to get to Stacy and Kyle and they would be disappointed in me. Maybe people would even start talking behind their back. I couldn’t let that happen. I had to do everything to make sure that nothing would compromise their relationship with the people around them. Especially me. I think Laura gave up on running after me. And it was understandable. We were in the middle of club hour and she attended music. If she wanted to use that time to practice her concert music, she had to go back.

I ran for a long time. I didn’t even know where I was going. I guess you could say I wasn’t even paying attention. But surprisingly enough, I found my way home. Maybe I was becoming very familiar with the location, because of my walks with Laura, or it was because I felt the magnetizing pull to the place called home. I ignored the stares and questions of the maid, as I ran upstairs and into my room. Running into the bathroom and locking the door, I grabbed a pair of scissors and without thinking, cut off a lock of my hair. I wonder if I would have done the same thing with a sane mind. Probably not. But obviously I wasn’t sane. I chopped my hair in a way that looked like a blind man cut it with a dull knife. Stupid huh? I was supposed to make it better not worse. I realized my mistake after I put the scissors down and looked at myself. I literally looked like a plucked chicken. This was just great.

I stared at myself for a long moment. What was I going to do? How was I going to fix this? I can’t glue my hair back. I ran into the shower and washed my hair. Maybe it won’t be as bad if I wash it and it will settle better? I sat in front of my bathroom mirror, waiting for my hair to dry as I was afraid blow drying would make it worse. It wasn’t working. It actually looked worse. What have I done?

I heard the sound of a slamming door and fast clicking of heels. Oh no. Stacy was home. I quickly ran into my room and jumped on my bed, hiding under the covers. As I heard the sound of her heels approaching closer to my room, my heart was pounding in my chest. My face started to heat up and the palms of my hands started to sweat. I heard my door open, and Stacy come to my bed.

“Mona, what happened? The maid called and said you ran into the house crying?” Stacy said with a very concerned tone. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Hot tears were streaming down my cheeks as I tried to choke them back.

“Mona Weaver answer me this instant. I heard about what happened in school today. How can you do that to someone? Why in the world would you thrash someone with a canvas poster?”

“How do you know about that?”

”It doesn’t matter  how I know that, answer the question.” I didn’t want to. “ There are security cameras all over the school”

“He called me a Faceless Goth and laughed at me.”

I’m pretty sure Stacy didn’t see that coming because she was silent for a moment, then I heard her sigh deeply.

“Mona, this is not how you can act in this society. Maybe that is how you acted at the orphanage, but here it is not proper. You need to be more lady-like and try to contain your anger instead of bringing it out on people.”

“I know I was wrong, and I want to make it better. I feel so ashamed about it, that I didn’t know what to do.”

“Nothing, just don’t do that again. Now get out from under there and let’s go out to eat.”

“No I don’t want you to see me.”

“Why in the world are you saying that? What did you do?” I tightened my grip on the blanket. Stacy started to pull on it. Of course a woman in her 40s won over a 15 year old girl. The covers were pulled back and I heard a gasp. I had my eyes closed hard because I was afraid of seeing her expression.

“Mona, what did you do to your hair?” Slowly I opened one eye at a time.

“I cut it.”

”You.. cut.. it? With what? A dull saw?”

“No, scissors.” Stacy sucked in her breath and slowly let it out.

“Let’s go,” she said getting up.

“Where?”

“To fix you.”

”No, I can’t go like that in public.”

“Well, then you should’ve thought about that before you applied scissors to your hair. Now get up and put a hat or a scarf on.”

Obediently I got up out of bed, got dressed and put on a cap to cover up my hideousness. Stacy drove me to a very posh salon. I sat in the chair holding my breath as the stylist observed the damage. Will he be able to fix it?

“It’s fixable,” he finally said. Stacy and I both let out a deep sigh. She was worried too I guess. About one hour and 300 snips later, I was finally fixed. My hair was layered and styled into awesome waves. I actually looked beautiful. Even Stacy was pleased with what had been done.

We went to Starbucks after than and talked as we drank coffee and ate cinnabons. Since we were already out, Stacy decided to take me shopping. During our talk, it was established that I wanted to prove to everyone that I am better and to do that I needed a makeover that still contained ME. So here we were, again, at the same shopping plaza, but this time…there was no rush.