Mom Forced Me Into Pom-Poms - Part 9

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Sarah was standing at the door waiting for him when the session ended. She wanted to know how it went and what he learned. She laughed out loud when he demonstrated his new big cheerleader smile. 

"See, you're becoming a perfect little cheerleader already," she giggled. She pointed him toward the concession stands in the lobby. 

"We need to eat real quick," she said, "because I made an appointment for you upstairs for 12.20. We've just twenty minutes to get you to the salon." He wasn't quite sure what she was talking about. 

After the events of the past three hours, he had completely forgotten what MacKenzie had said about his hair. After gulping a sandwich and soda, Jesse found himself standing at the counter of The Sweethearts' Salon on the second floor. Now, he was fully aware of what was going on. There were girls of all ages inside, and the walls were lined with framed photos of Cowboys Cheerleaders going back through the years. 

He had never been in a beauty salon before, and it looked and smelled really girly; he thought it was not a proper place for a boy. Sarah was talking to a receptionist behind the counter. 

"We should be able to get it done before two pm," he heard the receptionist say, "so she should be back in time for the afternoon session. Just take a seat over there, and someone will be with you in a moment." 

Sarah led Jesse to a leather couch where two older teen girls were already sitting, flicking through magazines. 

"This is an awesome place," Sarah told him. "The Cowboys Cheerleaders get their hair done here before games. Now, don't you worry about anything? Your mom gave me her card so that I would be able to pamper you, and that's what I'm going to do." Jesse looked around the busy salon with a mixture of fear and curiosity. He was scared of what they would do to him. 

He had come to learn that being pampered in the sense in which his mom and Sarah spoke of it was not a good thing for a boy who wanted nothing more than to be a footballer. Just then, a woman approached in a white smock and pants that made her look like a nurse or something. 

"Hello there," she said. "I'm Mandy, your stylist today, and this must be Jessica." She smiled broadly at him. 

"Yes," said Sarah. "This is Jessica. As I said on the phone, and as you can see for yourself, Jessica is a bit of a tomboy. 

Never wanted long hair. But now that she's on the cheer team in school, she has decided she wants to look like a proper cheerleader. Isn't that right, little sis?" 

 Sarah looked at him for confirmation of what she had just said, but his head was spinning. 

He couldn't get over that she kept referring to him as a girl and that she would think he ever wanted long hair. It sounded so weird. He nodded shyly. He knew he wouldn't be able to produce a big cheerleader smile for them like he was supposed to. 

 "So, go ahead and do what we talked about," Sarah instructed Mandy as she stood up to leave. Then, turning back to Jesse, she reached down and gave him a quick sisterly hug. 

"I know this is a big deal for you, Jessica, but you just relax, okay, sweetie, and I'll come back for you in, like, ninety minutes?" With that, she stepped outside and vanished, leaving the boy all alone. 

Mandy led him towards the rear of the salon and put him sitting in a large leather chair before a giant mirror. 

"Aren't you the lucky girl to have such a super sister?" she said, as she tied a pink cape around his neck. "Good thing you have it, too, 'cause that hair of yours is way too boyish for a pretty little thing like you." 

He looked at himself in the mirror and looked at her and then at the tray of stuff she had wheeled up beside her. He still wasn't sure what exactly she was going to do until he saw her produce long strands of gleaming, light blonde hair. It kind of looked like a doll's hair, he thought. 

 "This is real human hair," she explained, as she ran some silky strands through her fingers to demonstrate. 

"Natural is way better than synthetic. It's like it's your very own hair. I don't normally get to glue extensions on hair as short as yours, hunny, so this is going to be fun." She kept talking as she worked on his hair. He mostly nodded or uttered monosyllabic answers to her questions. 

He was in too big a state of shock to be able to say anything more. She began by brushing his hair out and pulling as much back as possible with a crocodile clip. She tugged on it so hard that it hurt a little. 

He watched as she worked in sections, gluing each piece in firmly and making sure it was properly set before moving on. Little by little, he saw his new hair fall around his shoulders and down onto his cape. "These are super long extensions," Mandy said. "They're actually twenty inches long, so your hair is going to end up way down your back." 

He couldn't imagine what that would be like. 

"You are so used to short hair that this is going to be a really big change for you. And wearing long hair is really different from short hair, too. 

It has more weight, for a start, and will feel heavier, and of course it will also be more difficult to manage." On the other hand, having long hair is much better than short hair. 

There are way more things you can do with it. Like, you can style it in lots of really cute ways. You're going to love experimenting with it, Jessica, and I'm sure your sister will love helping you, too." 

Mandy talked on and on as, slowly, the hair began to cascade around his face. He could already feel how heavy it was, how it seemed to pull his head back, as if someone was tugging on it. It definitely made him look way more girly, like his cheer friends, and he thought it made him look younger, too. The color was so blonde. Sure, his own hair was blonde, but this looked way blonder. Maybe it was because it was just so long. 

It seemed to him like she must have added about a million strands of hair before Mandy announced triumphantly that she was finished. She gathered it up and held it out, so he could see just how long and full and thick it was. When she let it go, it fell past his shoulders and kept going till it ended more than halfway down his back. He was stunned. 

This hair was attached to his head now. It was his hair—super blonde, thick, long hair like no boy his age would wear. He would have to cut it off as soon as he got home. Mandy picked up a large black brush and started to run it through his hair. 

 "We don't want to brush it too hard yet," she explained, "until it has had time to set." 

 Then she held it in both hands and pulled on it gently until his ears were exposed. He had forgotten that he hadn't even been able to see his ears with all that hair flowing over them. She reached into her trolley again and picked up a marker. Even when she quickly made little marks on his ears, it didn't dawn on him what she was doing. Before he had a chance to protest, or even to register pain, he was sporting two little pink starter earrings in both ears. Mandy rattled on about how he needed to take special care of the holes for a few days and make sure to keep them clean; then he could wear all kinds of cute earrings. But he just gaped, slack-jawed, at his image in the mirror. The earrings were the finishing touch in making him look like all the little girly girls in his cheer group. 

"Now, hunny," Mandy said, with a satisfied air, "you look just beautiful. No more tomboy—just a pretty little cheerleader." 

Sarah was thrilled when she saw the new-look Jesse. She gathered his hair and ran her fingers through it, oohing and aahing, like she was going to explode with joy. "Wow, you can't even tell they're extensions," she told Mandy. "Her hair feels, like, totally natural. And the earrings are gorgeous, too. Thank you so much. I'm delighted." Say thanks to Mandy for the super job she did on you, Jessica." "Thank you, Mandy," he said quietly, barely making a sound, totally overwhelmed by the events of the last hour and a half. "I presume it's safe to put a scrunchy in her hair now, so she can get back to camp?" Sarah asked Mandy. "Yeah, it should be fine," the stylist replied. 

 Five minutes later, after Sarah had paid up using his mom's credit card, Jesse exited the salon with his new hair in a sleek ponytail, encased in a big, pink scrunchie. 

It meant his ears were exposed, too. It felt so strange walking along with his ponytail swinging. It pulled his head back and kept hitting off his neck and face. 

It got in his eyes, also, and even stung a little, and he felt terribly self-conscious, as if somehow everyone would know that it wasn't his real hair and that he was a boy masquerading as a girl. Sarah was talking excitedly all the time, telling him how pretty he looked now and how the two of them looked just like sisters now, also. "I told you, you'd be gorgeous," she told him, holding his hand and guiding him back down the stairs to the room where the afternoon camp session was ready to begin. 

He was so shocked and upset, so bewildered and confused, he was sure he would start to cry. 

And he felt betrayed, too, by Sarah and by his mom. He loved his mom, and he really liked Sarah, but they shouldn't be trying so hard to make him into a cheerleader or force him to look like a girl. And his new hair was super annoying. He couldn't wait to be rid of it. 

 Susie was speechless when she saw him and wanted to know how he could have undergone such a transformation since lunchtime. MacKenzie gushed over him, too, and complimented him on his new look and told him how pretty he was and that he looked much more like a proper cheerleader now. 

Most of the others in the room didn't seem to realize he was the same person as the little tomboy who had been with them earlier that day. Jesse found it almost impossible to focus on the afternoon workshop. 

All he saw was hair. All he could think about was hair. It got in his face; it got in his mouth; it tickled his neck; it pulled on his head. It was a total pain and a constant reminder of what had just been done to him. 

He had gotten used to the indignity of being a cheerleader; he had gotten used to wearing his bracelet and ring; he had even learned to adjust to the awful clothes his mom had put him in, but this hair was on a different scale from everything else. This hair was so big and intrusive and heavy and girly. Supremely girly. 

More than any of the other indignities he had to suffer, this one—combined with the earrings—made him look like a girl. No one now would think he was out of place in that room with twenty-nine other little girls wearing his artificial cheerleader smile. At least, he tried to wear the cheerleader smile, but it was so hard. Even after MacKenzie gave him a little lecture and told him to smile like a proper cheerleader, he found it almost impossible. 

He was too upset; he was too confused; his head was in turmoil. They worked with poms that afternoon. He was given a set of blue and white poms like the Dallas cheerleaders use and which were similar to those his own team used, too. MacKenzie instructed them on the proper use of poms. They were never to let their poms drop below their waist but must always hold them up right in front of them, chest high, ready to go. She turned on some music and showed them how to work their poms in tandem with the beat. 

She also showed them some basic dance moves and even got them to try a tuck. Then, she recapped all they had learned that day. 

Once more, Jesse found himself trying to adopt the proper posture while smiling his cheerleader smile and holding his poms up and out like he was supposed to. 

And all the while, every chance she got, Susie twittered on about his hair. She loved how his hair was now. 

She wished she could get super-long extensions, too. 

Sarah was at the door smiling broadly when they finished at four pm. Looking at her, he could see that he was indeed now a kind of mini version of her; their hair was broadly similar in color and look, though his was several inches longer; she also had blue eyes and had two piercings in each ear. Their nails were the same color, and they wore the same clothes. 

It was like she was his big sister. He liked Sarah; she was so pretty, the kind of girl his more mature friends would look at and talk about and dream of dating when they were older—and he liked being with her, but as a boy, not as some kind of dress-up doll for her to play with or a substitute little sister. 

As they waited for the bus to take them back to the hotel, Sarah kept fussing with his hair, telling him how pretty it made him look and what a great job Mandy had done. She examined his ears, too, and said how cool it was that he would be able to wear all his earrings now. She had, like, lots and lots of earrings she'd be delighted to share with him. And, as they waited for the bus, the other girls also zoned in on him, all marvelling at his new hair, all complimenting him on it, all telling him how pretty he now was. 

Tiffany was especially intrigued. She, of course, knew him from Cheer, knew for sure that his name was Jess, not Jessica, but she said nothing to embarrass him or make him feel uncomfortable. Instead, she called him Jessica and said that his new hairstyle suited him much better than what he had before. 

When they got back to their hotel room, Sarah told him to take off his practice clothes while she found something cute for him to wear for the evening. 

 "We'll go out and get something to eat," she said, "and then maybe go to the park. Just the two of us. It'll be fun." 

He finally flipped when he saw the outfit she produced. All his pent-up frustration, his anger, his despair, came pouring out, and he started to cry and shout and tug at his hair. "No," he squealed, "I won't wear that. I hate it. I hate this stupid hair. I hate freaking cheer; I hate it all. I just want to go home." 

"Sshhh, sshhh, it's okay, sweetie," Sarah said soothingly, moving towards him to comfort him, but he backed away. 

He wasn't going to let her embrace him; he didn't want her empty words of consolation; he just wanted things to go back to normal, like they were before school broke for the summer and his mother lost her head. 

He was shaking now, his face red, the tears falling freely, and he tugged desperately at his hair, grasping at it, tearing at it, hoping to rip it out, when she smacked him. She smacked him hard on the arm, then smacked him a second time, roughly pulling his hand away. 

 "Don't you dare touch your hair," she snapped at him.

 "Your mommy paid good money to have your hair done, and you're not going to destroy it. Understand, JESSICA?" 

She emphasized the word, Jessica, to remind him of his altered status, and he looked up at her, sniffling, tears still flowing, but now more subdued. He was shocked that she smacked him. 

He was shocked at the force of her words. He realized there was no escape, at least not for the moment. He just nodded at her and whimpered like a beaten puppy. 

"That's better," Sarah said. "Now let's get you dressed." 

She held out the red denim mid-rise cut-off shorts, with distressed detail and a frayed dolphin hem, and buttoned them up once he stepped into them. 

She then held up a short-sleeve, round-neck crop top in multiple colors and pulled it over his head. It didn't reach his shorts and exposed about three inches of his tummy. 

He tugged at it, trying to pull it down, but Sarah slapped his hand away. 

"Leave it alone, sweetie," she said, sounding kinder now, "it's supposed to show your tummy like that." 

 Next, she brought him before the mirror and removed his scrunchie. She ran her hands through his locks again, telling him how soft and luscious his hair was.

  "Lots of girls would die to have hair like yours," she said. Well, they are welcome to it if they want it, he thought to himself. Sarah grabbed her brush and gently ran it through his hair. She tried not to hurt him, and he had to admit to himself that it felt kind of nice to have his hair brushed out. It felt soothing and relaxing. 

"I'm going to put it in a high ponytail now, sweetheart," she told him. He watched as she gathered his hair, then pulled it high and ran a red woolen scrunchie through it.

 He put his hand up to feel it. The ponytail was almost on the top of his head so that his hair arched up before it fell past his shoulders. 

Some loose strands encircled his face. The pressure on his head was more severe now than earlier. 

The ponytail tickled his shoulders where it brushed against them, and when he turned his head this way and that, it swung around wildly. It was a feeling he had never experienced before, and it was really weird. 

Staring back at him from the mirror was a little girl just like Susie or Ashley or Megan, a girl like any of those in his school, though with longer hair than many. 

And he was afraid he would start to cry again, and Sarah would get mad at him. When she was finished with his hair, Sarah looked very pleased with herself. "There, sweetie, all done," she proclaimed.

 "Don't you just look precious! When you are as pretty as you are, you've got to dress the part." She handed him the remote and told him to watch some TV while she changed her own outfit. Then, both ready, they headed outside. 

The sensation of walking around with his hair in a high ponytail was something he struggled with all evening. Every movement, every gesture, reminded him that all that hair flying around was in fact his own hair. It was a real nuisance. A total pain. A constant irritation. 

He wondered how girls could cope with having long hair like that. They found a local mall and ate in the forecourt, then walked all around. Sarah stopped to gaze at storefront windows and even went into several stores, but she didn't make him try on anything, nor did she try on any clothes herself.

 She was super nice to him all evening and held his hand a lot like she was his big sister for real. Despite everything that had happened, it felt kind of nice. 

Later, back in their room, she got him to change into his 1D pjs, then brushed his hair out again and fixed it into a loose ponytail.

 This way, she said, it would be easier to sleep in, and it wouldn't tickle him too much. But it was a difficult night's sleep. His hair kept getting in the way, and all he dreamt about was hair. 

The outfit they both dressed in the next morning was the reverse of the day before. The shirt was white with a silhouette of a cheerleader on the front, while the shorts were a baby pink. 

He didn't bother complaining. There was no point. He didn't even complain about the way she arranged his hair. She brushed his hair out, then grabbed a bunch of it in the middle and began to tie it in a pink and white bow, similar to her own. 

"This style," she explained, "is called half-up half-down. Some of your hair is gathered up in this cute bow, while the rest hangs down. 

You can do this either with straight hair, like you have today, or with a gentle wave. "It's important as well," she continued, "that you fix your bow properly. 

You got to position it not on top of your head but at the back, at about eye level, with the ribbons pointing down." 

As if he would need to retain that kind of information, he thought. Next she told him to close his eyes while she covered him with hairspray. It made him wrinkle his nose. When he touched his hair, it felt all wiry and funny, and the bow made him look ridiculous. He would just have to endure it until he got back home. 

The girls on their bus were dressed in similar pink and white outfits, and, coincidentally or not, Susie wore an identical bow, too. She was delighted to see him again, declaring that it was so cool to have a girl her own age to hang out with. In the lobby of the stadium, a bunch of boys were gathered in their football gear, talking and messing about. Jesse gazed at them longingly. He should be with them, he lamented. 

He wanted to go hang out with them. His eye caught that of a boy around his own age who looked at him contemptuously. Jesse looked away quickly, but he knew he would have done the same had he been in that boy's position. 

He never did have much time for cheerleaders. 

 That day MacKenzie taught them two simple routines that she made them practice over and over. She also gave them another pep talk on the role and duties of cheerleaders. Cheerleaders, she said, show leadership not only on the sidelines but in the school and in the community. 

A great cheerleader is a role model, a motivator, an athlete, a great teammate, and an inspiration to everyone around them. It doesn't matter how young you are, MacKenzie continued; a cheerleader has to take these responsibilities seriously. 

It means not only knowing your routines and chants perfectly but also dressing and acting appropriately at all times. Dedication, being compassionate, being caring, and being awesome, positive, and confident are what make a perfect cheerleader. Plus, always wearing their perfect cheerleader smile. 

Jesse glanced across at Susie, who was wearing her perfect cheerleader smile and who was positively beaming. She loved cheer camp. She had been looking forward to it for ages. She wanted to be like her big sister, Rachel, and hopefully one day even like MacKenzie. 

And as he looked at the others in the room, Jesse could see that all were in the equivalent of cheerleader heaven, hanging on every word MacKenzie said, wanting so badly to be a perfect cheerleader like her. He was the exception, yet he found it hard to not get caught up in the infectious excitement and enthusiasm of his companions.