Rebel Without A Clue

A ray of sunlight shined down on me while walking to my car on the Friday afternoon I was released from the hospital. It was a shining beacon of hope for me as I unlocked Louise's door and hopped in. While adjusting the rearview mirror, for Zac had changed its angle changed when he'd driven the car over to the hospital, I caught a glance of my appearance. The first thing I noticed was the unusual chunk of hair that hung above my shoulder, the part Justin had burned off with his cigarette.

Well, that's the first thing to go.

I cannot begin to describe how boring it is to lay around in a hospital for twelve extra days, especially when you're healthy. Besides doctor's recommendations, my parents actually thought it was safer for me to stay there, until Justin had recovered and was taken to prison. I'd seen the whole wonderful decision unfold itself in front of my on the news. (Yes, he looked wonderfully marvelous in orange). Although his door was watched twenty-four hours a day by two security guards, every night for me was sleepless, with him being so darn close.

But he was gone now. And back to me being bored..

Even with my parents, being wonderfully considerate of them (and I swore to myself that I'd get them back for it) dropping off all that homework for me to do, the days were agonizingly slow; it was as if time had almost turned to the brink where it went backwards. To make matters worse, I stayed in that darn single room; in other words, there was nobody to talk to. Not that it was terribly lonely with the stream of visitors I got occasionally, I just ended up thinking when I was alone.. oh, did I ever think, particularly while gazing out the window near my bed at night. In fact, I could almost call it a revelation.

Never again Maggie, I told myself, still looking into the rearview mirror. The reflection of my green eyes burning brightly surprised me. Truth was, I wasn't exactly pleased with myself recently, a result of all that thinking. I'd examined every action compared with every thought I'd had within the last few months, only to decide I was embarrassed. It was very hard to cite examples of where I was true to myself.. my feelings.. my heart. In fact, all I could remember were several occasions where I'd made decisions just to avoid confrontations.

Possibly the third or fourth thing, I thought with an amused half-smile on my face and turned the ignition key.

Surprise, surprise, it was Justin who'd also been messing with my car, I thought as I heard the familiar and reassuring sound of Louise rumbling up to life. The idiot had left both wirecutters and a knife in his pocket, more than a coincidence to both our parents. I was surprised how little his parents actually knew about the guy.

Justin.. the mere mention of his name caused millions of images to flash through my mind. But, strangely, I didn't feel afraid of him now. Only when he was directly in my life did I feel like coiling away into a corner. I still couldn't believe how amazing my parents were, in their out-of-court settlement with his.

He's in jail now, I smiled to myself as I remembered.

I did that. Of all people, the scared little mouse put him in jail. I felt a surge of energy flow through my finger tips as I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. For the first time, I felt relaxed, not to mention confident, about one of my decisions.

No second guessing like the last time. Sure, I'd been immature and sure, it'd taken six years of my naivete and denial before I made my ultimate decision to attack him myself, but having him in jail had an infinite number of rewards emotionally, as opposed to the fear and shock that had surged through my body as Justin's fingers had roughly closed around my throat.

You're thinking again. I scolded myself. Reaching into the glove compartment, I found an old pair of sunglasses and slipped them up the bridge of my nose. I was surprised at how cold the metal felt against my skin, a tiny burning sensation, but it gave me a brilliant idea. I laughed out loud at the thought, not picturing myself actually going through with it. Hundreds of reasons came to mind of why the mere thought was stupid, but I brushed them all aside.

First things first, Maggie. I warned myself, pulling into the parking lot of Hair Flair.

At least I can solve one of my problems and give Sarah a little business at the same time. The place reeked of the 1980's; I instantly fell in love with its atmosphere.

But not everything, I noticed the wall-to-wall pink, matching carpet, and even the furniture. The distinct smell of hair products, along with the heat in the room, made the inside of my nose tingle as I breathed in what felt like all of it. It wasn't long after I took a seat in the distinguished waiting room, consisting of only three chairs and a magazine placed on the seat of each one when a familiar voice called me.

"Maggie!?" Sarah's voice rang out over the hum of stale hairdryers and murmur of small-talk conversations in the room. She managed to fit surprise, confusion and happiness into the mere mention of my name.

"Hey Sarah," I smiled as she hurried over towards me. As she did, I got a detailed full-view of her.

Damn, she just keeps getting bigger, I couldn't help but notice. She wrapped her arms around me in a gentle hug. I happily returned the gesture.

"How are you feeling?" She asked as she pulled away.

"I'm ok. I need a little help with this," I pointed at the unruly chunk of hair that fell just above my left shoulder.

"I noticed that in the hospital." she replied. "But why come here?"

"Work your magic on me Sarah," I laughed, extending my arms out to the side, as if offering myself as a sacrifice to her services.

"I'll be with you in fifteen minutes, let me finish with another customer." She rolled her eyes before heading back to her corner of the room. With no interest in Cosmopolitan magazine, I had nothing to do but people-watch, which suited my needs for escaping boredom. My eyes hopped from station to station, noticing all female workers, but not all female customers. I grinned when I saw an older man cheating the appearance of old age as his hair was getting dyed black. What caught my attention and held it was a woman getting a pedicure. It was so interesting to watch something so irrelevant in life. I smiled and settled against the back of my seat.

"Are you absolutely sure about this?" Sarah argued.

"Yes," I replied firmly, keeping my hand held about three inches above my shoulder. "This length."

"Well, I could cut the other side the same length as this shorter part and give you a layered look. That way you could keep most of the length in the back." She insisted, demonstrating to me. I firmly shook my head.

"Chop it all off."

"Are you sure? That's at least a foot and half of hair." Her sense of doubt filled my ears.

"Chop it all off."

"You're sure?" she asked again. After seeing the frown on my face in the reflection on the mirror in front of us, she added:

"It's just you've always had long hair. I don't want to be responsible for you developing a complex without it."

"Chop it all off." I replied again before adding,

"I'll live. I'm a tough girl, remember?" I grinned.

"Ok, whatever Mags," she said with a smile on her face. She reached over and reluctantly picked up her scissors. Hundreds of high-pitched snips later, I removed my hands from covering my eyes and gasped.

"Good job Sarah," I mumbled, surprised at the end result. It felt like a gigantic weight had been pulled off my head, which, in fact, was exactly what had happened. Staring into the mirror, I loved the way my newly-shortened hair formed a frame around my face.

"See? It's not so bad." My mouth formed a tiny smile.

"Not so bad?" She winked at me, pulling the plastic cape off my shoulders.

"Maggie, no offense, but you look like a completely different person.." She said the exact words I wanted to hear.

"Gee, thanks."

"I wasn't done- You still look beautiful," she finished, swatting playfully at my shoulders. After giving her my genuine thanks and paying, I found myself outside the entrance the Hair Flair.

"Thank God it's almost summer now," I thought, pulling my coat up around my neck. I wasn't used to the lack of insulation without my hair. Looking around downtown, my eyes seized the view of the tattoo parlor. Instantly, my thoughts from earlier returned.

Nah.. I could never do that, I thought, fumbling in my coat pockets for my car keys.

Glancing up for no reason at all, I caught my reflection in the glass windows of the salon.

That's exactly why you should, a little voice in my head answered. Not voices like I'm mentally unstable, just call it an 'anti-conscience.'

"I don't believe this," I mumbled to myself, a grin on my face stretching from ear to ear.

"Is it supposed to hurt this much?" I gasped, tears forming in the corners of my eyes from squinting them shut. My fists clenched so tightly to the armrests I was afraid I might rip them off. This was unbelievable.

"Just relax, it won't hurt as much." I opened my eyes in disbelief at the skuzzy fifty year-old man sitting at my feet.

Relax? Look who I'm with.. Taking in his scraggly beard, bulging beer belly, two earrings in one ear, and more tattoos covering his body than bare skin, I wondered how on earth he had the nerve to tell me to relax. The grinding sound was what bothered me most, over the tingly-pain that shot up my right leg. I felt dizzy, even though I was already lying down.

"Almost done.. Just hold on there kitten." He raised his head from his handiwork to wink at me. I was thoroughly disgusted at his 'kindness', to say the least.

"There." He set aside a small metal tool, the cause of all my self-induced anguish. Bolting upright to a sitting position, I caught sight of the tiny black Celtic pattern that curved around my right ankle. I blinked, disbelieving it was actually there. I reached out my index finger; I just had to touch it-

"Don't do that quite yet," the man grabbed my wrist. "Wait a little, 'till it's not sore."

"All right," I said sullenly. I pushed down the leg of my jeans, covering the little work of art that was now a part of me.

Scary.. What had been just a 'pretty pattern' in the picture books was now a part of my body. I thanked the man before paying and exited as quickly as I could. The place, not to mention the gentleman who now watched me cross the street back to my car, was freaking me out.

"Hello." Dad called to me when I walked through the front door. Setting my junk down in the hallway, I followed the direction his voice came from.

"Maggie?" Karen greeted me with surprise in her voice as I walked past her office.

"Yup," I stopped in the doorway, grinning from ear to ear.

"Your hair.. It's-" I cringed, thinking of how much she'd liked it long.

"-beautiful! It compliments you nicely." She got up from her seat behind her desk to pet it a few times.

"Hey, I'm not a dog you know," I grinned at her, jerking my head away from her hand.

"It's just so different.. In a good way though." She quickly added.

"What's this about hair?" Gerald walked down the hallway towards us from his office.

"Not bad kiddo," he smiled, rubbing his hand through my hair roughly.

"Hey," I could almost feel the static electricity building up. "It's just hair.. We all have to go sometime."

"It's nice to have you back here." Mom enveloped me in a warm hug before adding, "We were so worried about you."

"Now, Karen, let's just celebrate Maggie's first night home."

Go Dad. Too bad I started the celebration earlier, I smiled to myself.

Probably best to wait on showing them the tattoo. As I followed them into the kitchen, remnants of my thoughts in the hospital floating around in my head, I realized there would be a few changes going on around here. The sooner the better, for the sake of all our sanity.