Think Again

"I'm cutting it....All off."

Chapter 13: “I’m cutting it…. All off.” 

“Pretty pretty please, don’t you ever ever feel, like you’re nothing you are perfect, to me.”

Tuesday Morning  (3rd September)

I look at myself in the mirror and sigh. My hair is getting really long. I think I’m going to get a haircut. Pixie cut? 

Usually, I’m not this confident about getting a haircut. I would always think about what others would think and whether they’d like it or not. But I now I know that it isn’t important. As long as I like it, it’ll be fine. 

I’m not thinking about what they have to say anymore, I’m thinking about what I want. To please myself. To make myself happy.

“Mom, I think I’m gonna get a haircut. Is that okay?” I ask my mom as she braids my hair at the kitchen counter.

“Of course, honey. It’s getting pretty long, you don’t like it?” She asks curiously. 

“Its just getting a bit annoying. And it’s pretty hot here.” I explain.

“That’s true. Don’t worry about what they think, sweetie, you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.” She kisses my forehead then sends me on my way.

*

After school (because nothing interesting happens in school that day)

I was in Chris’ car when I ask him to drop me off at Mike’s.

“Why? Should I be worried or jealous?” He asks.

I take one of his hands from the steering wheel and interlock his fingers with mine.

“No. Because you trust me.” I feel his grip tighten.

“Yes, I do.” He gasps as if intoxicated when I kiss his knuckles softly one by one.

Then we stop at Mike’s house. Chris reaches over and unclicks my seatbelt for me then kisses me, hard. He releases me and I say,

“Don’t be too surprised when you see me tomorrow.” I flip my hair and hop off the car, before he could ask me to elaborate.

“Mike!” I call from outside their front door.

“It’s me, Ana.” I call again.

The door opens and reveals Echo.

“Repunzel?” he looks up at me.

“Hey, buddy. Where’s your brother?” He steps aside, letting me in.

“Down the pole.” 

Mike has this fire pole thing in the middle of his living room leading to his room. Cool, huh? His room is downstairs. 

“Repunzel, Repunzel, let down your hair.” Mike calls up to me, appearing at the other end of the pole in his room.

They call me Repunzel because as my hair grew, it became lighter and lighter each day, almost blonde but not quite yet. Much like copper.

“Get down here, sugar! I just set up this really cool… - um – thing.” He gestures me to slide down the pole and I go for it.