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His face appears in my head. He looked so mad, his cheeks red. He had the lightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, and long lashes that matched his fluffy light brown hair.
Bringing fingers up to mine, I twist the long, gold strands.
Little girl.
It wasn’t the first time I got called that. I get called other things too. Sissy, pretty boy, princess…
Those aren’t mean words, but they’re always said so meanly that it feels like they are.
And of course there’s that other word, whatever it means.
At least they never touch me…normally. They usually just kick my bag, shove books out of my hands, or blow spitballs at my head before laughing and walking away.
Today was the first time they actually cornered me.
Pushed me.
Somethin’ tells me it’s gonna keep getting worse.
“Mommy,” I say loudly to be heard over the music and whooshing coming from outside.
“Yes, sweet boy?”
“Can we cut my hair?”
Her eyes dart to mine in the mirror. She blinks. “If that’s what you want.” She says it in a way that feels important.
Just before school started, we went for trims, and the lady asked if I wanted to cut it all off. It made me nervous at the time, so I said no. It’s a lot longer than it was last year, I realize now, reaching my shoulders.
“I look like a girl,” I tell her, and in my head, I see the boy who came and got rid of the bullies. His was short on the sides. Curly on top. Boy. No doubt about it.
Other boys with hair down to their shoulders like me don’t get bullied about it, or told they look like a girl. But for some reason I do, so maybe this will help keep them away. Maybe it’ll make them finally stop.
Mommy’s face tightens, and she looks back at the road. So I look back out the window, hoping she’s not mad at me, since I already had my chance to cut it a couple weeks ago.
She clears her throat. “Yeah, bubs, we can cut your hair. I’ll take you after breakfast.” She pauses, flicking the blinker, and turns onto the next street. “But just know that hair, long or short, is okay and has nothing to do with you being a boy. You can wear and be anything you want, and that doesn’t change who you are inside. Okay?”
Twisting my lips together, I nod.
“People are mean sometimes because they’re not happy with their own lives. It has nothing to do with you.”
Again, I nod, though I don’t think I believe her.
I wish I was braver…
Tougher.
I should be able to scare them away.
In my head, I picture drawing in another square, but this time it’s with lightning bolts around me, and I’m floating in the air with a cape, hands raised toward the bad guys—the bullies.
And on the ground, there’s that boy with the pale blue eyes, grinning up at me rather than scowling like he did when he told me not to apologize. He looked so mad at me for telling Principal Gibson I was sorry.
“You did nothing wrong.”
Sucking my cheeks in, I try not to smile at the memory, but it’s hard. I wish I was able to stick out the rest of the day, just so I could find out if we share lunch or gym class together. Probably not, though, unless he’s in the special classes like Clay and Ethan. I already know he’s not in transition like me. There’s only one class for that, and I’m in it.
Unless he showed up after going to the principal’s office…
