ShreyF
Full 50 page comic is available on my patreon
Jenny noticed the noise before she noticed the stage. The new mall was bright enough to make every shop window look freshly polished, with pink banners hanging between the floors and an escalator carrying shoppers toward the food court. Somewhere beyond the central fountain, a crowd burst into applause. Jenny slowed, her shopping bags brushing against her knees and her loose brown hair sliding across her back. It reached almost to her hips, straight and glossy after that morning’s careful brushing. Sophie immediately caught her arm. “Oh! That’s the draw I told you about!” she said, pointing toward an illuminated sign. Jenny read it aloud: “Gifts and Dares. One draw. One result.” Leah glanced over Sophie’s shoulder. “That sounds like something people say immediately before explaining a terrible condition.”
The attraction occupied a temporary stage in the mall’s central atrium. A cheerful host stood beside a transparent machine filled with sealed cards, while two staff members guided participants through a short queue. Jenny watched a man tear open his envelope. Behind him, a screen flashed $1,000 CASH, and the audience cheered before the host had even finished announcing it. Sophie bounced on her toes. “You literally pull one card. That’s it.” Jenny raised an eyebrow. “There has to be a catch.” Leah pointed toward a rules board beside the stage. “There. The word ‘dares’ is usually where the catch lives.” Jenny leaned forward, trying to read past the shoulders in front of her, while the winner posed happily with an oversized cheque.
The next few participants demonstrated exactly what Leah meant. A middle-aged woman won a toaster and looked unexpectedly delighted. “Actually, I needed one,” she told the host, hugging the box. The woman after her drew an ice bucket challenge. Her smile disappeared as two staff members appeared carrying a bucket between them. A moment later, water splashed across the stage, and Jenny laughed behind one hand. “Okay. That one I’d survive.” Leah looked at her dry blouse and immaculate hair. “You say that while standing somewhere warm and dry.” Then another participant opened a card marked SMALL TATTOO. Jenny stopped laughing. The host explained the approved designs and maximum size, but she was already rubbing her untouched forearm. “Nope,” she said. “That’s where I’m out.”
At the information desk, Jenny asked what happened if somebody drew something they absolutely refused to do. The staff member smiled and placed a printed agreement on the counter. “You may withdraw at any point.” Jenny’s shoulders loosened. “Oh. Well, that makes more sense.” The woman tapped a paragraph farther down the page. “But after signing and revealing your result, withdrawal activates the five-thousand-dollar clause.” Jenny stared at her. “Five thousand?” Sophie’s enthusiastic expression faltered beside her. Leah folded her arms with the satisfaction of somebody whose pessimism had just become useful. “And there it is.” Jenny stepped away from the counter, pulling her shopping bags closer. Whatever the promotion was offering, she had already decided that her name would never enter that machine.
They rode an escalator away from the attraction, its cheering gradually fading beneath the mall’s music. Jenny drew her hair over one shoulder and ran her fingers through the ends, separating a small tangle without thinking. Sophie still looked back toward the stage. “But imagine getting the holiday.” Jenny gave her a flat look. “Imagine paying five grand because you don’t want a pineapple tattoo.” Leah nodded solemnly. “Jenny has discovered common sense.” Jenny smiled, pleased with herself. “I enjoy gambling when the worst possible outcome is losing ten dollars. Not body modification.” She said it with such certainty that Sophie finally laughed and changed the subject. By the time they reached the next shop, Jenny considered the matter finished.
The following morning, her phone vibrated beside her café drink. Jenny had tied her hair into a high ponytail, its weight resting between her shoulder blades before continuing much farther down her back. She opened the group chat and found a photograph of Sophie holding an enormous promotional cheque. Beneath it was a message: “GUESS WHO DID IT.” Jenny nearly inhaled her drink. “You actually entered?” she said aloud, attracting a curious glance from the next table. Later, Sophie displayed the receipt as though presenting irrefutable scientific evidence. “One card. One thousand dollars.” Jenny crossed her arms. “And if you drew the tattoo?” Sophie grinned. “I didn’t.” Leah looked directly at Jenny. “Please do not let that sentence become financial advice.”
Over the next several days, stories about the promotion kept finding her. A coworker’s cousin had won a tablet. Somebody from Sophie’s gym had walked away with five hundred dollars. Online photographs showed smiling winners holding vouchers, electronics, and cheques. Jenny heard about a dance dare too, but that seemed harmless enough. When the three friends passed the stage again, a woman received a boxed phone before the next participant performed a ridiculous dance in a maid costume. Jenny laughed with the crowd. Her hair was half pinned back that day, the loose portion falling smoothly to her hips. “Honestly, I could do the dance.” Leah turned toward her immediately. “Yesterday you weren’t entering.” Jenny looked offended by the implication. “I’m still not.”
Then somebody won a seven-day holiday. Jenny watched the announcement spread across the huge screen while the delighted participant covered her mouth with both hands. Sophie leaned closer. “Still ridiculous?” Jenny kept studying the stage. “Statistically ridiculous.” Leah’s eyes narrowed. “That sounded different.” Jenny pretended not to hear her. At home that night, she stood in her robe with wet brown hair hanging almost to her hips, pressing a towel gently along the lengths. Growing it had taken years. Looking after it now involved familiar calculations: enough conditioner, enough drying time, enough patience to work through the ends without pulling. She squeezed another generous amount of conditioner into her palm and frowned at the bottle. “I really need another one already?”
Once her hair was dry, she examined it under her desk lamp, finding a single split end among the smooth brown strands. She isolated it carefully and clipped away only the damaged tip with tiny scissors. “There,” she murmured, then inspected the microscopic piece resting on her finger. “And that was already more than I wanted to lose.” Later, with her freshly brushed hair spread behind her chair, she opened the promotion’s website. In a notebook, she divided the possibilities into cash, prizes, harmless dares, and serious dares. The first three categories looked reassuringly crowded. “Most results aren’t even bad,” she told herself. Her pen paused over tattoo, extreme haircut, and designer makeover. She touched her ends automatically. “Okay. Those three are bad.”
By the next video call, Jenny had begun explaining why they were less bad than she had originally thought. Her hair was piled into a large messy bun, with a long escaped strand hanging over one shoulder. “Even the tattoo is tiny,” she said. Leah stared at her through the screen. “You have somehow turned ‘there is a tattoo option’ into reassurance.” Sophie shrugged. “But she’s right about the odds.” Jenny pointed toward her camera. “Exactly. The reward is worth much more than the actual risk.” The confidence in her voice surprised even her. A week earlier, she had walked away without hesitation. Now she had a notebook, a list of winners, and several arguments that sounded sensible whenever she said them quickly.
She returned to the information desk alone, wearing her hair in a thick low ponytail that hung far below her waist. “I want to see the complete list before I decide,” she told the staff member. This time she read every section, including the sentence explaining that cutting, bleaching, coloring, and clipper work could occur under makeover dares. Her stomach tightened briefly, but applause interrupted her concentration. Onstage, another winner was receiving a shopping voucher. Jenny looked from the agreement to the smiling participant. What were the odds she would get that one serious result? When Sophie and Leah accompanied her back to sign, Leah offered one final warning. “Last chance to remain the smart one.” Jenny uncapped the pen. “I’ve read everything. I’m doing it.”
On draw day, Jenny wore her hair completely loose. She had washed, dried, and brushed it until the brown lengths lay smooth and shining, reaching her hips without a knot or bent section. Sophie noticed the extra effort immediately. “Nervous?” Jenny tightened her grip on her handbag. “No.” Leah looked at her clenched fingers. “Your bag disagrees.” The participant before her won five hundred dollars, and Jenny smiled as the crowd cheered. “See? This was a good decision.” Leah answered without looking away from the stage. “You haven’t drawn yet.” When Jenny’s name was called, she walked forward before either friend could say anything else. The host greeted her warmly, then glanced down the extraordinary length of her hair. “Now that is impressive.”
“Thank you,” Jenny said, pulling a section over her shoulder with an instinctively proud smile. The host gestured toward the machine. “Ready?” She nodded and reached among the sealed cards. For a second, she imagined a holiday announcement appearing behind her. She drew one envelope, opened it, and found a large printed word: DARE. Her smile disappeared. “…Of course.” From the audience, Sophie called, “It could still be the dance!” Jenny opened the smaller card inside. DESIGNER’S CHOICE—EXTREME MAKEOVER. She blinked, then tried a relieved laugh. “Makeover? That’s fine.” A black salon chair rolled onto the stage. Beside it came a trolley holding scissors, clippers, bowls, and brushes. Jenny stared at the equipment. The host smiled. “Meet your stylist.”
Rina stepped forward with short red hair, a black outfit, and the energetic confidence of somebody enjoying her working day. Her gaze traveled immediately from Jenny’s crown to the long brown ends. “Oh, this is going to be fun.” Jenny gathered her hair protectively against her chest. Quietly, she asked the host how much control the stylist had. “Cut, clipper work, bleach, color, and styling,” he replied. Jenny looked toward the exit, then toward the withdrawal notice, then toward Sophie and Leah. Five thousand dollars was an impossible amount to spend on avoiding a haircut. Rina waited beside the chair. “Still with us?” Jenny swallowed. She could leave. She understood the cost. Finally, she nodded. “…Yes.”
Jenny sat slowly, keeping her back stiff while her hair spilled over the chair’s sides and back. Rina fastened a black cape around her neck, lifting the brown lengths clear so they remained outside it. “You’re not going to tell me what you’re doing, are you?” Jenny asked. Rina smiled toward the audience. “Where would be the fun in that?” Jenny looked up at her. “For me?” Rina laughed and began brushing. Each stroke traveled from the crown through the full length, the bristles making a soft, steady sound. Jenny usually liked having her hair brushed. Here, every pass reminded her how much there was to lose. Rina gathered it in both hands and lifted it outward, showing the audience its thickness and reach.
Phones rose above the crowd. Somebody said, “Whoa,” and another voice exclaimed, “That’s so long!” Jenny hid part of her face behind one hand. “Do they need a full inspection?” Rina answered brightly, “Absolutely.” She let the hair fall again and asked who thought they should keep it long. Several people raised their hands. Jenny looked gratefully toward them. Then Rina asked who thought they should make things interesting. The answering cheer was considerably louder. Jenny stared ahead. “I liked the first group.” Behind her, Rina began gathering all the brown hair into one heavy bundle. An elastic slid around it near shoulder-blade level. Jenny caught the movement in the small working mirror. “Why does that need an elastic?”
Rina lifted the ponytail and brought the scissors into view. Jenny’s eyes widened. “Oh. No, wait.” The enormous brown tail hung almost to her hips, thick enough that Rina adjusted her grip before positioning the blades. Jenny pressed both hands against the chair arms. Rina paused, giving her a moment to breathe, then began the countdown. “Three…” The crowd enthusiastically supplied “Two!” Jenny turned her head as far as she could. “Why are they counting?” The scissors closed through the first section with a sharp crunch. Rina opened them and cut again, working through the dense bundle while Jenny sat frozen. One final closure freed it. The long ponytail remained in Rina’s hand, and Jenny’s remaining hair fell roughly around her shoulders.
The sudden difference was impossible to ignore. Her neck felt lighter, and the familiar weight down her back had vanished. Rina raised the detached ponytail for the audience, who responded with fresh applause. Jenny tried to turn around. “That was attached to me ten seconds ago.” Sophie had her phone raised, her expression caught between amazement and concern. “It’s enormous!” Jenny looked at her. “That is not helping.” Rina placed the ponytail on the trolley and returned to the uneven ends. She sprayed them damp, combed them straight, and began trimming. Brown snippets fell onto the cape. Jenny watched carefully as the rough shape became a neat bob, short enough to clear her shoulders. When Rina let her examine it, she touched the ends tentatively.
“Okay,” Jenny said after a long pause. “I actually don’t hate this.” The words were sincere. The bob framed her face, and turning her head no longer pulled a heavy curtain of hair after it. She could be upset about the ponytail later. For now, perhaps the disaster had turned into something manageable. Rina stood behind her with a small smile. Then an electric buzzing began. Jenny saw the clippers reflected near her shoulder, and her relief disappeared. “…Why are those on?” Rina lifted a section away from the side of her head. “Because we’re still working.” Jenny stared at the neat bob she had just accepted. “That was a very short period of emotional recovery.” Rina chuckled. “You’re doing well.”
The first clipper pass started near Jenny’s temple and traveled upward through the brown hair. A thick section loosened and slid onto the cape. Beneath it was a narrow strip of extremely short stubble. Jenny watched, speechless, while Rina widened it with another pass. The vibration felt strange against her head, and the sound was louder beside her ear than it had been across the stage. Rina folded her ear gently forward and cleaned around it, then continued toward the back. More brown hair fell. Jenny’s expression shifted from alarm to a disbelieving frown. “I was just getting used to the bob.” Rina checked the shape with her comb. “It was a useful intermediate stage.” Jenny gave the mirror a wounded look. “It had potential.”
Rina worked around the nape and the opposite side, leaving Jenny increasingly aware of the cool air against her head. The longer hair on top was clipped out of the way until the surrounding areas were uniformly close. Then Rina released it, lifted small sections with her comb, and shortened them. Jenny watched strands drop across the black cape, where the brown pieces were easy to see. Eventually, Rina reduced the top too, guiding the clippers carefully across the curved surface. Only a small front section remained. She combed it down and trimmed it into a tiny blunt fringe. Jenny’s eyes followed the scissors. “You’re running out of places to cut.” Rina brushed loose hairs away. “That part is nearly finished.”
Jenny reached toward her head, then stopped when Rina asked her to wait. In the working mirror, she could see a bare-looking side, a very short fringe, and a face that suddenly seemed more exposed. “My head is much smaller than I thought,” she murmured. Sophie offered an encouraging smile. “It’s cute!” Jenny looked toward Leah. “You’ve been banned from voting,” she told Sophie. Leah pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. Rina prepared a bowl on the trolley and began applying bleach to the remaining stubble and fringe. Jenny stared at the brush. “You signed up for color too?” she asked herself bitterly. Rina checked that she was comfortable and explained the next steps while covering the short hair evenly.
During the wait, Jenny studied the severed ponytail on the trolley. It still looked like her hair, recognizably brown and absurdly long, but it belonged to a morning that now felt distant. Leah came closer to the stage. “How are you doing?” Jenny considered the question. “I keep expecting it to touch my back.” Leah nodded sympathetically. After the bleach was rinsed away, Rina dried Jenny’s head and began arranging several small color bowls. Pink, cyan, yellow, and purple went onto separate sections of the tiny fringe. Jenny noticed the colors but could not see the complete effect. Then Rina used small heart-shaped guides across the pale blonde stubble. Sophie leaned forward. Leah covered her mouth. Jenny immediately became suspicious. “Why are you both making that face?”
“I am trying to choose a responsible answer,” Leah replied. Sophie’s eyes were sparkling. “There is substantially more happening.” Jenny closed her eyes briefly. Rina finished the bright hearts across the top, sides, and back, then cleaned Jenny’s hairline and removed stray color from her skin. The chair turned toward the audience before Jenny saw the main mirror. Applause rose around her. She hunched her shoulders beneath the cape. “This is somehow worse when they clap.” Rina stood beside the chair. “Ready to see it?” Jenny took a slow breath. “…Do it.” The mirror revealed pale blonde stubble covered with colorful hearts and a tiny fringe divided into four bright sections. Jenny raised her hands carefully beside her head. “That… is significantly less hair than I had this morning.”
She rubbed the buzzed back with one palm, startled by the fine, bristly texture, then looked at the huge brown ponytail resting nearby. Sophie grinned. “Remember when the tattoo was the one you were scared of?” Jenny gave her a deadpan stare. “I owe the tattoo an apology.” Leah finally smiled. “So… rewards worth the risk?” Jenny felt the side of her head again. “Ask me when this grows back.” Walking through the mall afterward, she noticed every glance. Without the cape, her familiar clothes looked oddly different beneath the colorful haircut. She kept touching her nape, then catching herself. Sophie offered to lend her a cap. Jenny shook her head. “After all that, I refuse to also have terrible hat hair.”
The next morning, Jenny paused outside the school entrance with her hand resting on her bag strap. Sophie and Leah waited beside her while she gathered the courage to walk inside. The first classmate who recognized her stopped mid-sentence. Another stared openly at the bright hearts. “Jenny? What happened to your hair?” Her cheeks warmed, but she managed a small smile. “I made a financial decision.” Sophie laughed, and the tension eased enough for Jenny to keep walking. Compliments, questions, and astonished looks followed her through the corridor. At her desk, she brushed her palm over the short blonde stubble once more. She still missed the weight of her long hair. But when Leah asked whether she wanted to visit the mall after class, Jenny answered immediately: “Absolutely. We are walking straight past that stage.”
