over. But I’d have to shave them off. We’re talking baldness, people.”
“We can live with that,” Hayes says.
“No way am I wearing a wig.”
“Just trust us,” Madison says. “We helped you get over that Reggie loser, didn’t we?”
“You did,” I relent.
“Okay. Then sit.”
Reluctantly, I obey, wincing as I see Hayes approach with a large pair of scissors.
“You might want to close your eyes for this.”
“Wait… I… okay.”
I shut my eyes, trying to distract myself as I hear the snip of the scissors. I can hear my heavy locks fall away and hit the floor with loud thumps.
“Ew,” Madison says. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter. But when I hear the buzz of a razor, I can’t help looking.
“Oh my God!” Patches of hair stick up weirdly from all of the spots that aren’t shiny and bald. “I look like some sort of radiation victim.”
“Don’t worry, sweetie,” Hayes says.
“Something bad always happens when you call me that,” I grumble. “Remember how I almost got burned to a crisp at that party?”
“Just close your eyes again.” The buzz is louder now. My head tickles as she mows my scalp. Suddenly, I feel something cold and wet. When I peek, I see that one of them has turned out the lights. Madison is smearing something black and disgusting on my scalp. Hayes stands behind her, her eyes glittering.
“What are you doing?” I plead.
“Shut up and trust us,” Madison growls. “I’m blindfolding you until this is over.”
She ties a silk scarf around my eyes. The smell is gag-inducing. Within minutes, my entire head is itching furiously.
“Ow!” I yell, reaching up to scratch.
“Don’t touch it!” Madison orders.
“What? There’s a colony of fire ants on my head!”
One of the girls—I can’t see who—grabs my wrists.
“It’s just a few minutes,” Hayes says. “I promise.”
But the sensation is unbearable. I whistle. I stomp my feet. I sing the words of my mom’s favorite Phish song, the one about mangoes that makes no sense.
“I can’t take it anymore!” I finally cry, ripping off the blindfold. I look in the mirror, and—
I can’t believe it. The dreads are gone. I have… hair. Thick, chestnut-colored, unbelievably shiny hair that cascades (frizz-free!) down my back and around my shoulders. Seriously, I could audition for a shampoo commercial right now and win the role, no prob.
“How did you…”
“Magic,” Hayes says, smiling. “Not kidding.”
“What do you think, dorkus?” Madison asks, crossing her arms.
“Wow. It’s good. Really, really good.”
The MGs laugh. Hayes stands behind me, rubbing my shoulders. I touch my new hair. It’s soft, and so shiny it almost sparkles in my hand. It even smells good, like a cinnamon cookie.
“Is it real?” I whisper.
“Probably,” Hayes says. “We don’t really know how the spell works. Sam gives us the bottles and the instructions, and we use them. But it’s definitely your hair to keep.”
“It hurt.”
“No one said the spells were pain-free,” Madison says. She stands back. “Okay. Much better. Now… item number two.”
“There’s something else?” I ask, looking in the mirror again. What are they going to do? Chop off my nose and grow me a better one?
“Alex,” Hayes says, her hands still on my shoulders, “if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?”
I bite my lip. That’s not a hard one. After all, I’ve just been called out for drinking the most disgusting drink on the planet in a vain attempt to shed some pounds.
“I’d be skinny. Like you.”
There’s a pause as the MGs glance at each other, obviously deciding how to treat this delicate subject.
Why do I feel like I’m selling my soul?
“We thought you might say that,” Hayes finally says, rising to go to the spell bar.
“So you do think I’m fat.”
“You’re not fat,” Madison says. “You’re just a little chubby. Healthy, you might call it.”
“Right,” I say, folding my arms tight against my chest. God. Does everyone talk about how fat I am? Dexter? Thaddeus?
“Alex, what if we told you that you’ll never have to worry about what you eat again?” Hayes asks.
My eyes fill with tears as I think about all the times Reggie pinched the fat on my waist and called me Pudge. And how Billy would never let me ride his bike because, he said, I would flatten the tires. And how skinny Crystal looked when Reggie kissed her in front of me.
“I’d say that sounds like a pretty good deal.”
“Okay. Good.” Madison opens a dark wooden box on the bar, extracts something, and snaps the box shut. “Put this on your wrist,”