So On

Chapter 35 - My Tear Sacs are in a Rebellious Phase

I stayed in my uncle's house for a couple of days. I didn't even go back to our apartment to take some stuff. I was too afraid to face Nichole.

It's either she really hates me, or she really hates herself.

I had the house all to myself because uncle went on a two-week conference somewhere in the world and left me the key to his house. No questions asked.

I went to school as usual, but did my best to avoid Nichole, Leo, Emma and Brandon. I never thought a day would ever come where I would do that.

Sam was my buddy the whole time. Maybe he felt sorry for me so he decided to stick with me like a piece of gum.

"Again," Sam sighed, as we made our way to our favorite spot (read: my favorite spot - he's just stalking me) under the big tree behind school - in the vacant parking lot where I first gave Brandon a taste of my special Mira Kick. "You look ugly again."

I groaned loudly to his utter amusement. A few days ago, I told him about everything that's happened between me and Nichole, me and Brandon, me and Leo, me and Emma.

Me and my dysfunctional brain.

He was sweet that time, hugging me and telling me to just let it all out. But I couldn't cry no matter how much I willed the tears to.

And when I didn't want to cry, tears would flow like the Niagra falls.

Such rebellious tear sacs I have here huh.

And now, he's back to being the usual ass. Well, that was fine, I guess. I don't want everything to be serious and all.

I mentally counted the days I tried to avoid my friends - almost ten days. That long.

I just made a face at Sam. He sent me a comforting smile before patting my head. I'm such a pitiful creature. "Smile, you hag. See you tomorrow."

Smiling. Huh. Sounds exhausting.

On my way back to uncle's house after class, a certain place caught my attention. I combed my hair with my fingers and took a deep breath.

Without much thought, I entered the salon. I've been wanting to cut my hair short for a while now. Better now than never.

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I returned to uncle's house after my abrupt visit to the salon. I checked my new look in the mirror and gave myself a quiet smile.

I didn't look half-bad. It almost looks refreshing.

My original hair - waist-length - was now short. Short as in shoulder-length. Not completely short though, I had it layered so it was a couple inches longer in front than behind. It was cool.

I rolled my eyes just thinking what people would say tomorrow at school. I hear that if you cut your hair short, the only explanation must be because you're heartbroken.

That may be true in my case, but that's not the sole reason. Having long hair is really a hassle. I've had long hair for five years. I'm tired of it now.

Will Brandon notice this change and think it's because of him? I'll spit on him then. Because I cut my hair for myself, not for him.

Move on.

I checked the clock and sighed. It was too early. Usually at this hour, my friends and I would be chilling somewhere. Or Brandon and I would be fooling around. Those times felt like ages ago.