Locks of Kindness // #WonderMovie Contest Entry //

Choose Kindness

 "Your hair is looking frizzy today. Makeover?"

Before I can say anything in my defense, the red liquid makes contact with the top of my head and trickles down the slope of my back. The aroma of cranberries fills the air and instantly, I know that my blonde locks are going to be stained.

Ava pivots her heel and struts down the hallway with her two wannabes by her side. She walks the corridors like it's the catwalk, untouched by the ogling boys who drool over her presence. She's the most beautiful girl in school with signature caramel orbs and a mane of silk hair that travels down her spine.

And me? I'm a friendless nobody who has a countdown to graduation day on her phone.

My mother's screech fills my eardrums the second I step inside the house. "What have they done to you now?"

"It's not as bad as usual."

I shudder at the flooding memories of torment. When Ava chopped parts of my hair with scissors, forcing me to even it out with a bob hairstyle and how after that, she would spit gum in it, causing a pitiful pixie cut. And then her constant verbal abuse of how ugly my clothes are, how weird my glasses look on my face, how dumb I must be because I'm a blonde.

But all of this would be over soon.

The next day I got to school early in an attempt to avoid any drama. I stumbled into the bathroom and stood frozen in my spot.

There Ava was brushing her beach waved brunette hair. Except it wasn't on the top of her head. It was in her hand.

A wig. Her flawless locks were a wig.

"Oh god, Maddy! Please! Don't say anything I beg of you! I'll do anything."

I could tell from her bald head that it was scarred, perhaps from burns. I stared into her frantic copper eyes, they were the epitome of fear.

Suddenly, all of it made sense. Why she would torment me day after day about the color of my hair, the length, the style. It was because she couldn't grow any of her own.

Now I had a choice. I could expose her secret to the entire school and get revenge on her. Or I could show her compassion and keep this to myself.

At the end of the day, I was a better person than her. If I were to bully her in the way that she bullied me, I would be no better than her; I'd become her. And that's not what I want.

"Just leave me alone for the rest of the year."

"You won't tell?"

I shake my head and feel a newfound sense of pride. Though I want to hurt her the way she has hurt me, I know that it's better to stand up and be the bigger person.

And it feels amazing to not have one single pound of guilt weighing on my shoulders.