He sat on the edge of the couch with Maya pressed against his chest.
I joined them.
For several minutes, none of us spoke.
I was incredibly proud of her.
I was also terrified by what she had done.
And I felt ashamed that my first reaction had been to demand names rather than calmly ask for an explanation.
Felix kissed the top of her head.
“What you did for Liam was kind,” he said. “Taking scissors to school and cutting your own hair in a bathroom was dangerous.”
Maya nodded against him.
“You could have cut yourself.”
“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
“I know.”
“But I understand why you wanted to help.”
She looked up.
“Are you mad?”
“Yes,” he said.
Her face fell.
That made her laugh through her tears.
I searched her backpack and found the cut hair beneath two folders.
Both ponytails were wrapped in paper towels and secured with elastic bands.
The ends were uneven, but most of the length remained intact.
I placed them carefully on the table.
That evening, we took Maya to a salon.
The stylist explained that she could not make every section even without cutting Maya’s hair considerably shorter.
Instead, she shaped it into a layered bob that reached her jaw in front and brushed the back of her neck.
Maya studied herself in the mirror.
When the stylist finished, she touched the ends.
“I look different.”
“You do,” I said.
“No. You look beautiful no matter your hair length.”
The following morning, Felix and I took Maya to school.
We were no longer considering calling the police.
But we still wanted answers.
Principal Susan looked stunned when we told her what had happened.
“No one knew,” I replied. “She hid it until she came home.”
Susan asked Maya to explain everything.
She listened without interrupting.
When Maya finished, Susan folded her hands on the desk.
“Bringing scissors to school was unsafe,” she said. “You could have injured yourself or someone else.”
Felix leaned forward.
NEXT PAGE
