by MIKE
It stings. Pain erupting through my skull. The bleach leaving my short brown hair stark white. I arrive at school with a smile as confident as my walk.
Stares and looks of surprise. A teacher, “whoa there, Q-tip.” Smile wavering only bit. I move on.
A friend laughing, “what the hell? Damn, you’re a bleachy! Smile small now, I continue.
Gym. “Pay attention, bleachy! You’re making us lose! Smile gone now, I hang my head low.
Friend: “Bleachy.”
Teacher: “Bleachy.”
I look in the mirror and say, “Bleachy.”
At the end of the day my head still stings.
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