Year FIVE:

My Big Hair Means I’m Smart

Mike Sanders was my first crush ever. Like in the history of ever. He also was a boy who certainly did not want to touch my hair. I think it was fair to say he hated it. I kinda agreed. It was itchy and poofy and got in everybody’s way when we had story time on the midnight blue carpet. Well, not every day. Just this one. I had begged my mom to let me wear my hair down to school. All the other girls wore their hair down. All the time. Why couldn’t I?

“You sure you want to wear it like this?” my mom had asked me as I sat down in front of her bathroom mirror.

“Yes, mommy. Everyone else wears their hair like this, always. I want to, too.”

I think she must have been tired because she let out a huge sigh as she combed the brush through my hair, the big curls disappearing and flattening out into plain strands. I mouthed “oww” several times as she tugged at it as gently as she could.

Finally, she finished, and I smiled widely, looking at myself from every angle in the mirror.

“There,” she had said. She placed a hand on either one of my shoulders. “Do you like it?”

I nodded excitedly. “Yes, mommy.” I scoured the sink. “What about the Humectress? To make it go down even more?” Humectress was the special, extra-expensive conditioner my Auntie Nia always used on my hair. Mommy would pour it in a spray bottle filled with water and mixed it together to make our own leave-in conditioner.

“We ran out.”

“Oh. Well. Why didn’t you buy some more?”

“They didn’t have any left.”

“Oh.”

I gazed at my reflection once more and then looked up at my mom’s. She had beautiful hair. It was long and black and soft and flowy. So straight, and so thick. She had these big fluffy bangs that curled up above her forehead and in front of it, that she sealed with hairspray. The hairspray held her bangs in place. I tried once to use hairspray to hold my hair in place. It just made it sticky. I cried when my mom tried to comb it out.

Mommy says I have a tender head. I think that means I cry a lot when she brushes it…or yanks it into perfectly perfect pigtails. My big sister Ada doesn’t have a tender head. But I think that’s because she has nicer hair than me. It’s longer and softer and she doesn’t need Humectress to hold it down. Mommy says I have a lot more hair than Ada though. I think God should have given Ada more of the hair. I think her height can handle it better than I can. I am only five.

“Here.” Mommy placed a big bright magenta scrunchy on my left wrist. “If you change your mind, you can pull your hair back.”

I looked down at the scrunchy, thinking how could I possibly end up wanting to put this in my hair? I asked to wear it down and I was going to wear it down! The other girls didn’t go around holding scrunchies on their arms.

As I pulled on my jacket, my mom called me from downstairs, telling me it was time to leave for school.

“Coming!” I yelled. I slipped on my backpack and slipped the magenta scrunchy into my dresser, then, skipped down the stairs and out to the minivan where Ada and my two older brothers, Darren and Antoine, waited. Darren, Antoine, and I all went to the same school. Darren was in fifth grade, Antoine was one grade more than me in first, and Ada went to a different school called Junior High. I couldn’t wait to go to Junior High. I wondered if my hair would change and become long, soft, and lovely like Ada’s. I reached up to touch my hair just then, a smile coming to my lips, so pleased that I had worn it down today. Wait until everybody sees it!

Once at school, my brothers and me piled out of the car. Darren went down to the big kids’ playground, and me and Antoine hurried over to the playground for the younger ones. Then, the school bell rang and we rushed off to our classrooms.

My hair seemed to be holding up good. I reached up to feel it. It seemed to be the same size. Once inside the classroom, I walked over to my friends Allegra and Bethany. Their eyes were the size of saucers and they stared at me in awe. I wondered if two bees would come along and fly into each of their opened mouths.

I smiled triumphantly at them. “I wore it down today!”

They continued to stare, not saying a word.

“Your hair,” Allegra said finally. “What did you do, Astra?” She suddenly looked worried.

“What do you mean? I wore it down. You know…like yours.” I gestured to her shoulder-length blond hair.

“But it’s so big,” Bethany said almost in a whisper. “Like…it could cover up the sun.”

My smile fell. I didn’t like the comparison.

“Is it going to stay like that forever?”

“Well, no.”

“You sure?”

I huffed. “You don’t like it?” I felt something tickle at the back of my eyes.

“We didn’t say that.” Allegra shook her head, her eyes still large.

At that moment, Ms. Jordan called us all over to the carpet.

I whipped around and looked at my two best friends in alarm. “She’s doing story time first? Oh no.” I rushed out of the classroom, hearing Bethany call after me, and slipped into the girl’s restroom. There, I snuck a peek at myself in the mirror.

I gasped. No wonder their eyes were so big. My hair had grown…gigantically. It really could cover up the sun. I ran out to the drinking fountains and splashed water on my head as fast as I could, hoping, praying it would weigh my hair down. I then ran back into the bathroom and nearly yelped. Instead of making it smaller, my hair seemed to suck up all the water and then, exploded. Tears came to my eyes. I pressed my hair down with my hands, but it was no use. I looked at my left hand where the scrunchy my mom gave me used to be. What had I done? Wiping the tears from my face with the brown paper towels as rough as sandpaper, I trudged back to the classroom and took my seat on the midnight blue carpet.

Ms. Jordan was in the middle of reading. Seconds passed, and I heard Mike Sanders call out to our teacher.

“Mike, what have I told you about speaking without raising your hand first?” Ms. Jordan asked him gently. She shook her head of pretty blond, wavy hair.

“Sorry, Ms. Jordan. It’s just…can you have Astra move? I can’t see anything. Her big head’s in the way.”

My cheeks turned bright pink, and I hung my head down, tears dropping down both sides of my face.

“Michael. That is not a very nice thing to say. You apologize to Astra,” our teacher said.

Mike grunted. “Do I have to?”

“Would you rather spend recess cleaning the chalkboard?”

He sighed loudly. “Sorry, Astra.”

“For what?” Ms. Jordan said.

“For…I don’t know! I just said her big head’s in the…oh.”

“That’s right ‘oh’. Now. Apologize. Properly this time.”

“Astra, I’m sorry for saying you have a big head.”

Another student on the carpet giggled. “Even though it’s true!” she said, covering her mouth.

I whipped my head around to look at her and scowled.

“Missy, now, it’s your turn,” Ms. Jordan ordered, looking at the girl.

“But I didn’t say anything!” she protested.

“Yes, you did. I heard you!” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“We’re waiting,” the teacher prodded.

Missy sighed. “Fine. I’m sorry, too, Astra. I’m sorry you have such a big head.” She erupted into giggles along with half of the entire class.

My lower lip trembled and my eyes started leaking tears. Without waiting a second longer, I turned on my heel and bolted for the door.

Ten minutes later, I waited in the nurses’ office for someone to pick me up. Ms. Jordan tried to get me to come back to class, but I wouldn’t go. I was too embarrassed. I was swinging my legs back and forth underneath the plastic chair when I heard a deep, low voice come from the other room. I gasped, looked up and saw my daddy standing at the door. He looked so handsome in his tie, suit, and fancy shoes. I jumped to my feet and ran to him as he embraced me with one leg kneeling on the ground.

“Hi, pumpkin,” he said, his voice deep but melodic.

I started crying all over again as I hugged his neck tightly.

“Ohhkay, Astra. It’s alright,” he shushed me. “Everything’s okay.” He gently patted me on the back and lifted me up into his arms. “You don’t have to cry anymore, okay? I’m here now.”

“They were so mean to me, daddy,” I wailed. “They told me I had a big head.”

 My dad pulled back a little to look at me. “Well, that’s a compliment.”

I stared at him strangely. “It is?”

“You know what they say about people with big heads, don’t you?”

I shook my head feverishly.

“Big heads…big brains.” He poked my belly and smiled.

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’re very smart.”

My face lit up. “I’m smart?”

“As smart as they come.”

I grinned and hugged him tightly.

“Think you can manage to walk?”

I nodded as he set me down on my feet and slipped my tiny hand into his big brown one. “I still don’t want to go back to school today, daddy. Can we go to your work? I’ll be quiet! I’ll even help Alice lick all the stamps for the mailman.”

He chuckled. “Sure. I think you’ve had enough excitement here for one day. But, tomorrow, you must come back. Don’t want that big brain of yours to go to waste.”

I sighed as we headed towards his white BMW. “Okay.” We passed my classroom on the way to the car. My stomach clenched, and I could only hope my “big head” would not be the topic of discussion tomorrow. Daddy said I had a big brain and I believed him. Didn’t mean all the people with little brains were going to believe me though.

Crystal Lancaster