After Bernice Bobbed her Hair

Marjorie

Marjorie awoke suddenly, in the hours just before sunset, feeling like a ghost had just left her room. She yawned, imagining this would be a good story to tell to those who wanted to hear it and began to turn around, shifting her position. She stopped mid turn, realizing something felt awfully odd and began to turn again.
There the feeling was again, terrible lightness, one that had not been there before she'd fallen asleep. Absentmindedly, she reached for one of her plaits but was rewarded with a handful of air. She reached again, hoping she'd just missed it when she came up short again. Marjorie stood up suddenly, abandoning her slumber. Could it be? Had Bernice--the same insignificant girl from the beginning of the summer--took it upon herself to exact her revenge on Marjorie's honest mistake. Marjorie felt at the shortest side and realized how short her bob would actually have to be, considering Bernice had bobbed it unevenly.
More than anything, Marjorie wanted to scream. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs and hold on to it until her face was blue with effort. Of course, remarkable women like herself didn't scream, they adapted.
As expected, Bernice's room was empty. She ignored her hatred for her cousin now as she tied a scarf over her head and under her chin. Afraid of being seen, by anyone, Marjorie opted to walk to the tiny house at the end of her estate. She was greeted by the hesitant heating of the sun, as if it too didn't recognize her.
Rap rap rap! Marjorie grew impatient as a minute passed after her knock. She knocked again, harder this time, hoping to awaken the owner of the plain home. 2, 3, 4 minutes passed before the door opened, only a squeak and a bedheaded Sylvia looked out.
"Miss Marjorie? Why did you not send for me?"
Marjorie ignored the question as she brushed past her personal hairdresser into her...humble home. She pulled her scarf off her head and faced Sylvia, who gasped.
"Is it fixable?"
Sylvia looked at me, afraid to answer my question "Honestly Miss, the most I can do is even it out and style it with the iron. Otherwise, I can't really help you."
"Then, what are you waiting on?"
As Sylvia fixed her hair, Marjorie realized just how bad she'd messed up. She'd honestly believed that taunting Bernice into bobbing her hair would help her regain her position. No more well rehearsed hair tosses or flirtatious twirling of said hair, and she doubted it would ever grow back to its former lustre. Sylvia finished just as sunset hit, announcing the beginning of the day and the some odd hours before the Deyo dance.
Not ready to face her parents yet, after Marjorie left Sylvia's, she wrapped her scarf under her chin again and began to walk down the road. She knew it was improper of her to walk alone in the middle of the road. As she neared Walter's house, she decided it best that she turn around. Suddenly, her eyes narrowed in on something on Walter's porch. She walked up to it, careful not to make a sound and inaudibly gasped. Lying in a heap, were the plaits that'd been severed from her hair by her insignificant cousin Bernice.