Maddy Tutors Shauna in a Lesson They Will Never Forget

The swish of my braid was the soundtrack to my day throughout my youth. Thick, dark, and reaching to my knees, my hair was my pride and joy. I spent hours on it, experimenting with styles, braiding it into intricate patterns, or simply letting it flow like a dark river down my back. Some people admired it, complimented its lustre and length. While others, clearly jealous, insisted it was too ridiculous for words.

College had not changed much. The compliments continued, and so did the occasional envious glare. But I did not care. My hair was mine. It was a statement, a part of my identity.

That is why, while walking across campus that day with my braid swinging rhythmically against my legs, I felt on top of the world. I was heading to the cafeteria to meet Maddy, a postgraduate student assigned to mentor me. Slightly behind on my coursework, she was supposed to help me catch up. Although I was not thrilled about the arrangement, I accepted that I needed the help.

Maddy was nice enough, I suppose but, in my presence, she had a perpetually apologetic look about her. Her hair, which barely grazed her shoulders, was always a bit frizzy and split at the ends. Faced with my magnificent tresses during each of our regular sessions, it was understandable that Maddy should feel intimidated. She had mentioned a few times that she admired my hair, a sentiment I found both predictable and, frankly, a little tiresome.

On one occasion, Maddy had hesitantly suggested that perhaps if I did not spend so much time caring for my hair and styling it, I would not have fallen behind on my studies. She even had the temerity to hint that I should consider having it cut shorter. Naturally, her ridiculous suggestion incensed me, and I was annoyed that she felt able to voice her opinion.

‘The time I spend is an investment,’ I had explained. ‘Maybe if you cared for your frazzled hair better, then you would not waste so much time making it look barely acceptable. It might even grow longer if you had the ends trimmed more than once a year,’ I had retorted, not bothering to hide the scorn in my voice. ‘Besides, long hair wouldn’t suit your unremarkable features or your quiet temperament anyway.’

I knew it was cruel, but I could not help it. Her words wound me up, and her appearance was so irritatingly ordinary. And the constant, thinly veiled envy was grating. Each meeting was the same. Maddy would try to be pleasant, and I would find a way to cut her down. I told myself it was just playful banter, but deep down, I enjoyed the feeling of superiority. Although, the faculty had assigned her to tutor me, she needed to learn a few home truths.

As I was passing through the parkland on my way to the cafeteria, I heard a commotion off to one side. A crowd had gathered under a large awning, and the sound of amplified voices carried across the campus. Curiosity piqued, I decided to investigate.

‘There she is!’ a familiar voice boomed from a makeshift stage under the awning. I saw Maddy, microphone in hand, standing confidently beside a tall older woman with short, black hair. Behind them was a banner proclaiming some kind of fundraising event, although the details were unclear at that distance. I moved closer.

Animated on stage, Maddy was barely recognisable. Gone were her dowdy cardigans and baggy jeans, replaced by a short summer dress with puffed sleeves. She had spent time on her hair, straightened it into an almost acceptable long bobbed style, and she had applied makeup. From somewhere, Maddy had developed a commanding presence.

The tall woman next to Maddy surveyed the growing crowd below them with piercing eyes. She wore her black hair extremely short and, with her tailored jeans paired with a snug fitting and expensive leather jacket, looked quite unlike any student.

Maddy was pointing directly at me, a disturbingly gleeful expression on her face. The crowd turned, their eyes fixing on me, and then erupted in applause and cheers. I was utterly bewildered. What was going on?

‘Come forward, Shauna!’ Maddy called out, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. The crowd parted, and before I could react, two large, muscular women, whom I vaguely recognized as Maddy’s friends, linked arms with me and began effortlessly propelling me towards the stage.

‘As you all know,’ Maddy announced to the crowd, her voice amplified through the microphone, ‘students and lecturers are being sponsored to cut their hair for charity, and all donations are welcome! Helena, an experienced barber, will be doing the honours. And who better to kick things off with her than Shauna, who has selflessly agreed to donate her magnificent mane for our worthy cause!’

My blood ran cold. What? I had not agreed to anything! I tried to protest, to explain that there had been some kind of mistake, but the words caught in my throat. The sheer audacity of it all was paralysing. And if I backed down without explanation, everyone would consider it as my lack of conviction despite me not being involved in the plan. With the crowd all looking at me, expectant and encouraging, I felt trapped.

Maddy’s friends practically shoved me into a large, old-fashioned barber’s chair that took pride of place in the centre stage. I tried to stand, to run, but they held me firmly in place. Panic clawed at my throat.

Helena, the intimidating woman stepped forward, a predatory glint in her eyes. ‘The donations have been very generous,’ she announced, her voice sharp and commanding. ‘In fact, we’ve already surpassed our initial target! Which means …’ she paused for dramatic effect, ‘… we can take Shauna’s hair even shorter than we had planned!’

A collective cheer erupted from the crowd. My heart hammered against my ribs. I felt I was going to be sick.

Cordless electric clippers appeared in the barber’s hand. She grandly held them up and ceremonially turned them on. A loud buzzing sound filled the air, sending shivers down my spine. I tried to speak, but my words were drowned by the noise of the clippers and the excited chatter of the crowd.

With a swift, brutal motion, Helena dug the blade of the hairclippers into the base of my thick braid and sheared it right off as if it were nothing. The familiar weight of it was gone in an instant. A collective gasp went up from the crowd, followed by manic applause.

Maddy, her face flushed with triumph, snatched the braid from Helena’s hands and held it aloft like a trophy. ‘Look at this magnificent specimen!’ she cried, her voice filled with mock reverence. ‘A true testament to Shauna’s generosity!’

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision. My braid, my pride, my joy … it was gone! And Maddy was parading it around like some kind of prize.

But the horror was not over. Not even close.

Helena, her eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure, addressed the crowd again. ‘But wait, there’s more!’ she revealed. ‘You’ve all been so incredibly generous with your donations, that we’ve decided to invest a little more time … and take things to the next level! Rather than simply trim the remnants of Shauna’s hair into a short style, we’re going to give Shauna a complete makeover! That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, to demonstrate her commitment to the cause, we’re going to shave her head completely bald!’

A roar of approval erupted from the crowd. My stomach churned. This could not be happening. It had to be a nightmare.

With gusto, Helena ran the hairclippers back and forth over my head. Dark snippets fell like confetti around my head, gathering in my lap, and falling to the floor.

Suddenly the noise from the clippers stopped. Helena exchanged them for a large bowl containing a white creamy substance. Scooping a handful, she slathered it over my scalp, not stopping until I could feel she had covered every patch of my skin with the cold wet foam.

A razor appeared in Helena’s hand, followed by the sensation of short strokes of a sharp blade, scratching against my skin. I closed my eyes, willing myself to disappear.

‘Oh, Shauna, you look so adorable!’ Maddy cooed, her voice dripping with false sympathy.

‘Yes, all helpless and vulnerable,’ Helena agreed, her voice devoid of any warmth.

The razor scraped against my scalp. The barber worked quickly, efficiently, stripping away the last vestige of my identity.

‘Remember when you insisted long hair wouldn’t suit my features?’ Maddy asked, her voice laced with venom. ‘Well, I think you’ll find bald may be practical for you but doesn’t really suit your features.’

‘Not with those huge ears,’ Helena sniggered, tugging on one, and Maddy and the crowd joined in with her laughter.

The scraping stopped and Helena stood back. ‘Almost done, darling,’ Maddy said, taking a small bottle and pouring a cupful of oil into her palm.

Applying it to my scalp, Maddy began gently massaging my bare dome. ‘There you go,’ she hissed, her voice so low that only I could hear. ‘Who would have believed my hair would ever be longer than yours?’ The words were like acid, burning through my soul. ‘Now, just a little polish, and you’ll be ready to face the world with your new, streamlined look.’

‘Smooth, white, and gleaming,’ Helena announced proudly, ‘just like a billiard ball!’

As I sat there, numb with humiliation, Maddy approached me, a soft cloth in her hand and began polishing my scalp to a greater shine. She leaned closer, her breath hot against my ear. ‘And apart from a few minutes giving your head a daily polish, you’ll now have so much more time for your studies,’ she hissed. ‘Maybe now you’ll finally learn some humility.’

Maddy nodded to her friends to release me, although any thought of resistance had long since left me. On shaking legs, I stood and looked down at the baying crowd, still tossing cash into the buckets at the edge of the stage.

As I stepped off the stage, curious hands stretched out, eager to touch my newly shaved head. I flinched away, recoiling from their touch. Unable to breathe, I had to get out of there.

Pushing my way through the crowd, I was desperate to escape the stares, the whispers, the laughter. I did not stop running until I reached an empty bench in a hidden corner of the parkland where I collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably.

My hair, my identity, my pride, were all gone. And all thanks to Maddy, the woman I had so carelessly dismissed, the woman I had so cruelly humiliated. She had exacted her revenge, and she had done it in the most public, most devastating way possible.

As I sat there, stripped bare, both physically and emotionally, I knew my life would never be the same again. Maddy had taught me a lesson, a brutal, unforgettable lesson, about the power of humility, the dangers of arrogance, and the devastating consequences of underestimating those you deem inferior.

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