The next morning was an interesting one. Kim woke up, dreading the day. But upon looking in the bathroom mirror, she almost buckled under the weight of her shock. Her hair was back! It was as if it had never been shaved off in the first place! With a shaking hand, she ran her fingers through it. It was as smooth and vivid as it had been the night before.
Despite her bafflement, Kim still had to admit that it was indeed cathartic to see the look on Trudy’s face when she came downstairs for breakfast. It was especially pleasing watching her stew as Tristan was in the room and despite his questions of if something was bothering her, she simply smiled painfully and stirred her coffee so vigorously it sent splashes everywhere. Kim did not know whether or not Tristan would have reacted badly to the idea of Trudy shaving her head, but clearly Trudy had just enough common sense to know that mentioning it would out her as the witch she was.
However, Kim’s high came crashing down once she got to school that morning. She had tied her hair back into a pony-tail and put on a hat in an effort to cover her hair but she was stopped by the door monitor and forced to remove the hat. She got into enormous trouble with the headmaster and, despite her protests and insistence that she had not dyed it, she was ordered to have it corrected by Monday or face further reprimand. The only teacher to not mention her hair had been Mrs. Craig, her history (and favourite) teacher but even then, Kim noticed her kindly eyes occasionally flash towards it behind her glasses. While Kim appreciated this, she still wanted to tell her what had happened. But who would believe that it just happened? No sane person, that was who.
The abuse from other students grew worse also. While some chose to only stare or whisper, some felt obliged to shout “Freak!” and other, nastier obscenities. The Bonnies had a field day with it too, following Kim around the halls and hissing insults like a pack of spiteful geese. It was hard to block out. Kim felt her hands clench in her pockets and her heart accelerate with anger any time they shouted something but kept her head down. All that kept her going was the hope that it could be changed.
By Sunday night, that hope had been dashed and trampled. Trudy had dragged Kim to a hair salon at eight in the morning on Saturday, insisting that her hair be dyed back to her natural colour. The lovely and bubbly hairdresser gushed over Kim’s hair when she sat down.
“Amazing!” She chirped breathlessly, admiring the hair as she ran it through her fingers, “This must have been such a complex job but its still so silky and natural! I’m jealous, honey, where did you have it done?”
“Oh she won’t tell me.” Trudy interrupted before Kim could answer, “See, she went and got it done behind our backs. And we want it changed back to hazel.” Kim hunched her shoulders and stayed quiet. There was no way the hairdresser would believe the real story.
“Oh are you sure you want it dyed back?” The hairdresser asked pleadingly before turning back to Kim “It’s beautifully done, if you’d like I can give your fringe a wee cut and maybe put in some layers it’d look wonderful on you-!”
“No no, it needs to be fixed!” Trudy spoke in her usual stepford smiler way, but Kim could feel the aura that her stepmother was infuriated at the attention she was getting. “She’s already in trouble with school, you see and I don’t want her to get expelled, it’s been so difficult. But you know teenagers, act now, think later.” She let out a shrill and unnatural laugh.
The hairdresser’s brows twitched, but she gave up, nodded and went to prepare the dye. Under her sickeningly sweet expression, Kim could see the daggers being shot from Trudy’s eyes.
If Trudy was not angry enough that the hairdresser asked Kim questions instead of her, then she was apoplectic when, after three long hours and the dye had been washed off, to their astonishment, Kim’s hair remained unchanged- vivid and like a galaxy. Kim could only wince in shame as Trudy argued with the poor hairdresser, insisting that the job be re-done because it was so important for her delinquent “daughter” to learn her lesson. Kim’s shoulders hunched higher and she wrung her hands inside her hoodie pocket as others stared. After lots of prodding, the reluctant hairdresser agreed. Another three hours, and Kim feeling sick from the chemicals later, they were faced with the same result. However, the hairdresser did not cave to Trudy’s insistence this time and bluntly told her she would need to pay and leave. Trudy did so, but not without droning on and on about how much of a sacrifice this was on her part and, by the end of it, Kim was getting harder glares from other customers. Kim put up her hood but could still feel their eyes burning into her. The kind hairdresser complimented Kim’s hair one last time before they left.
“Bloody waste of my time. But still, this is what I have to do.” Trudy said in that sickeningly sweet to Kim as they drove away, “You’re lucky that I’m here to help you.” Kim could only stay silent and stare out the window which she had rolled up, afraid if she met Trudy’s stare she would take her revenge by defenestration. She did not know how, but she had the feeling that this was going to get worse before it got better.
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