Me and My Long, Long Hair

Me and My Long, Long Hair

Chapter One: New Beginnings

Why were they staring? Were they whispering about me? Was that a giggle? How mortifying!! I checked if I had my shirt on inside out … it has been known to happen. No[pD1] mismatched socks either. So, then what could be wrong? I knew I was going to be the new kid at school when my family moved to America. I had read about middle school online and was looking forward to making new friends, learning new things, and most importantly, fitting in. A great deal of effort went into my clothes that morning, so I knew they were just right. My accent was a bit different, but my name, Sita Reddy, was easy enough to say. What could be the reason for so much attention?

I was not sure what to do when my ears picked up a whisper, “Did you see the new girl with the really, really, long hair?” And then it dawned on me, it was my HAIR! My hair looked different! I wore my hair in two braids doubled up, just like most girls did at my old school in Chennai, India. Looking around, I noticed that everyone else had different hairstyles, but no one had hair like mine. Normally, I love my hair. It is black and straight and has always been long, cascading down past my knees. There were occasions when it got in my way, but sometimes it made me feel like Rapunzel! That day, I wished I could hide all my hair under a ginormous hat.

I stayed at the back of the classroom and tried to hide in the shadows, and the morning passed without any more embarrassing moments. At lunch, I went to the restroom, undid my braids, and made a big bun of my hair, hoping to blend in. I thought I would blend in, but boy was I wrong. When I went to lunch, all the questions started.

“Why is your hair so long, Sita?” Kate asked, eyes wide with curiosity. She had long blond hair falling down her back.

“I don’t like to cut it, except for just a trim,” I explained. I had to repeat this over and over until I felt like a parrot.

“Doesn’t it get all tangled and snarled?” Selena asked, twirling one of her brown locks around her finger.

“No. My mom adds coconut oil before I shampoo it to help keep it healthy and smooth.”

Duh! Did they not know how to care for hair? I could feel my temper rising.

“I do that too,” Zoe said, grinning, pointing to her braids.

Derek, her twin, nodded. I gave them both a brilliant smile! Finally, someone who could relate!

I started to feel better and even to like my classmates. Except for the red-haired boy, who just kept staring at me without blinking. What was his deal? Feeling like a fish in a fishbowl, I turned my back on him but could still feel his eyes ON MY HAIR!

That evening, as my mother, whom I call Amma, gently combed my hair before bedtime, I shared my experience at school.

“I love my school, but I don’t like being different, Amma. My hair just makes me stand out.” I wailed.

My mother smiled and reached for a box of pictures. “Everyone has different hair, Sita,” she said, “and they inherit it from their families. Look, I had long hair, and so did your grandmother. My sister did, too[pD2] .”

“So, my long hair is because of my genes?” I asked, staring at the pictures.

“Yes. And your beautiful hair is a big part of who you are,” she said, smoothing my hair. “You are fortunate to have long hair. Think of all the different hairstyles you can wear. That should be fun. Right?”

I grinned, feeling a whole lot better—and even a tiny bit special. “Thanks, Amma! But I still wish that all the kids wouldn’t stare and ask questions.”

“It will get better soon. You’ll see,” she reassured me. “After all, hair is just hair.”

Chapter Two: A Secret Shared

It wasn’t long before I started making friends, and my classmates stopped asking[pD3] so many questions. I was still “the new girl with the really, really, long hair,” but I didn’t mind it anymore. I knew my hair was pretty special after all. Following Amma’s advice, I started styling it in all new ways, and I must say it was loads of FUN. I liked school, except for one thing: the red-haired boy continued to stare. He just kept staring at me and never smiled. How rude!

“What’s his problem?” asked Derek one day.

“Who? Chris?” Derek looked surprised. “He’s usually a lot of fun but just hasn’t been himself recently.”

“Grouch! I thought to myself.

One day at lunch, however, he sought me out and sat down next to me. I acted busy, but he started a conversation[pD4] .

“How does your hair grow so long?” he asked.

As if it were any of his business! “It just does,” I replied, turning away.

Chris touched my arm to get my attention. “Mine won’t grow,” he mumbled, pointing to his unruly mop of red curls. “I need it to be long.”

“You want to grow long hair?” I asked, my eyebrows creeping upward, unable to hide my disbelief.

Chris turned red, matching his hair. He pulled a photo out of his pocket and showed it to me[pD5] .

“My sister, Lucy, has cancer. She lost all her hair because of the medicine she had to take. I want to donate my hair to make a wig for her, but mine isn’t long enough.

I looked at the girl in the picture. She was smiling weakly, and her head was covered by a large hat. Then I remembered seeing Chris sitting with her and the younger students in the lunchroom. Wow, this was his little sister.

My chest felt hollow, and my eyes pricked with tears. I didn’t know what to say.

“How long does your hair have to be?” I finally managed.

“Ten inches. Yours is so much longer. That’s why I was asking if you could show me how to grow mine.”

I tried to explain to Chris about genetics and hair oil, but his face fell, and he walked away, looking sad.

For the rest of the day, I couldn’t stop thinking about Chris and Lucy. How awful that frail-looking Lucy was so sick and had lost her hair. No wonder Chris looked so sad. I felt guilty for all those nasty things I had thought about him earlier.

Chapter Three: The Big Decision

Over the next several days, I looked up information online about cancer, hair loss, and the need for wigs. Slowly, an idea popped into my mind. I thought about it late into the night and couldn’t fall asleep. Morning came, and my mind was made up.

“Amma, I love, love, LOVE my hair, but I think the time has come to cut it,” I said at[pD6] breakfast.

“Oh, Sita! Are you sure? It will take a long time to grow again, and this will be a momentous change for you.”

“I know, Amma, but there are kids with cancer who have lost their hair, and I want to help make wigs for them.”

I explained what Chris had told me about Lucy and how he wanted to donate his hair.

My mother looked at me in wonder. I could see that she was thinking.

After a long pause, she smiled and nodded. “Sleep on it for a few days, and if you still want to cut it, we can go to my salon this weekend,” she said. She enveloped me in a big hug.

The rest of the week, it was hard not to ask my friends for advice. But I knew it had to[pD7] be my decision. Should I go through with it? How would I look afterward? Every time I almost chickened out, Lucy flashed into my mind. When the weekend came, I was ready for the salon visit.

I sat nervously in the special salon chair, draped in fabric, while my mother explained my wishes to the stylist. I looked at my reflection in the mirror as my hair hung like a curtain all around me. My hair. My beautiful hair! I will miss having all of it!

Amma stepped up to the chair and took a picture of me with her phone. She gave me[pD8] a big wink and a thumbs-up. I gave what I hoped looked like a smile, and I returned the thumbs-up.

I didn’t want to look, but my curiosity won. I watched, fascinated and anxious, as the stylist braided my hair into two long ropes that lay against my back. Finally, she secured each one with a colorful rubber band.

She paused. “Are you ready?”

For a moment, I was afraid. I almost changed my mind. It’s only hair, I reminded myself. Then, I whispered a silent goodbye to my locks. It took every drop of courage I could summon, and I took a deep breath… and slowly let it go.

“Yes. I’m ready.”

I squeezed my eyes shut as I heard the snip-snip of the scissors cutting across my thick braids.

In minutes, it was over. When I opened my eyes, the stylist smiled at me and placed my cut braids in my hands. It felt strange to know that they were not attached to my head anymore. A tiny pang of loss made my eyes tear up, but once the shock passed, I placed my braids into a special bag to mail to the charity for children’s cancer.

The stylist smiled. “Let’s do something special with your hair, shall we?”

I looked up at Amma shyly. She nodded, and the stylist went to work snipping at my shoulder-length locks. My first haircut and style EVER. When she finished, she handed me a small mirror so I could take a look. I was almost afraid of what I would see, but when I looked, I was surprised! My dark, shiny hair still framed my face, but it was just shorter. It felt lighter—and my heart did, too. The stylist spun my chair around so I could see myself fully in the big mirror. I grinned at my reflection, feeling like a new person.

After we left the salon, we went to the post office to mail my braids to the charity I had chosen. I had a skip in my step at having done something good.

Chapter Four: A New Friend

On Monday, all my fears came rushing back. What would the other kids say about my new hairstyle? But I needn’t have worried. My friends “oohed” and “aahed” at my hairstyle. I had to tell and retell the story of how I had donated my long, long hair. I noticed Chris listening attentively, and I gave him a big smile. And to my surprise, he smiled right back!

I walked over and handed him a note I had written to Lucy. I wanted to encourage her to be brave and stay strong. I also wanted to remind her that hair is just hair, and she is beautiful no matter what.

“Just wait until I tell Lucy! She’s getting better every day, and I know this will make her feel so good. Thanks, Sita,” he said excitedly.

All the kids cheered, and I did too. After all, I had made a new friend.

“Let’s do a fundraiser to raise awareness for kids with cancer,” Zoe said, inspired by the moment.

“Great idea, Zoe,” said Chris, grinning. “Even if people can’t donate their hair, they can[pD9] [pD10] still donate money for treatment and research. It will help so many kids.”

“I’ll help,” said Derek.

“Us too,” Nau and Selena exclaimed with enthusiasm.

Kate and I joined in with all smiles.

I could hardly believe what was happening! Now, we can all do something as a group to help kids with cancer.

That day was one of the BEST DAYS EVER! It was amazing to have made new friends and started a new project in my first few weeks at my new school!

That evening, I went to bed feeling warm inside, knowing I had helped someone and inspired my friends. I hoped Lucy would recover and be back at school soon. Of course, I hoped her hair would grow back as well. I knew mine would take a while to grow out, but in the meantime, there were so many new hairstyles to try.

****

That’s the story of how my long, long hair helped make someone else’s life brighter!

Along the way, I learned a few important things:

1. It’s best not to judge others because we don’t know what they might be going through. I am glad I got to know Chris, boy was I was wrong about him!
2. When we focus too much on how we look or what people think, we miss out on more important things . Once I no longer worried about my hair, I was happier being myself, and was able to help others.
3. And finally, hair might only be hair—but it’s still a special part of what makes me… ME!”

The End