I Had The Best Hair
by Chris de Serres
I told her not to forget to wake me up early. I wanted to have plenty of time so she could do it.
A little after 5am, my door opened.
“Chris, I have about 10 minutes. If you want me to do it you gotta get up now.”
Ten minutes later.
“Chris, I really gotta leave!”
So I saunter out of bed. Put my best t-shirt on and meet her in the bathroom. Then she did something amazing. She feathered my hair. None of the other kids at school had hair the way I did. She coated it 3 times over with Aqua-Net. My hair was as solid as a rock.
I washed the taste of hairspray out of my mouth and went back to bed sitting up, so as not to disturb the ‘do.
Soon my older brother would be leaving for school. Once that happened, the coast was clear to go into his room. He had all the cool clothes. He was short for his age so I fit into all his threads.
I found a black long-sleeve turtleneck and some gray Z. Cavarici pants to match. I found a pair of penny loafers that he had recently shined up.
No one had the hair I did. No one was wearing the clothes I was. I felt like a million bucks.
I walked down the hall to my locker as if I belonged there. I owned my space, probably for the first I ever had. When I got to class the girls were looking. The only one that mattered was Jennifer. She started holding hands with this other guy last week. He was walking her home from school too. She knew who I was though. Her old brother and my older brother were best friends.
She looked me over from head to to and back up to head again and shyly covered a smile with her hand.
When the final bell rang, my heart broke just a little seeing them meet up and walk off school grounds towards her house. I wanted to be the one who walked her home. I never had this feeling about a girl ever. My heart never hurt this bad before.
None of my friends talked about this kind of pain. I didn’t know who to talk to. So my sister helped in one of the ways a big sister could. My brother did too, in his own way. I’m sure he knew I was stealing his clothes. He didn’t say anything about it though.
A few months later I got the opportunity to escort Jennifer home. Maybe she liked my style. Even though it was like Cinderella at the ball. The strike of midnight passes and here I am the next day. No feathered hair. No stylish clothes. Maybe she just liked me for me.