DISCLAIMER: This story is based on "Bernice Bobs Her Hair" in "Flappers and Philosophers" by F. Scott Fitzgerald. I am not affiliated with F. Scott Fitzgerald or any of his heirs (God, I wish I were).
Bernice laughed as the train whizzed past on its way to Eau Claire. She had done something she never had believed she could have done only a few days before – she had finally stood her ground! Bernice, newly shorn and facing the ridicule of an entire town, had swallowed her pride, and like a deadly spider, waited. She spun her web and waited patiently until that little insect, her dear cousin Marjorie, was near the trap.
Oh! The sensation Bernice had when she turned the tables on her! That long, luxurious hair, the golden silken tresses gripped tightly in Bernice's little hand! The feeling of freedom when, with a slight thud, Marjorie's glory landed on Warren's front porch. Bernice knew that Aunt Josephine would never invite her back to their home, but in the heat of the moment, she didn't care. Now, she was slightly frightened.
She dreaded the thought of Aunt Josephine's letter to her mother. She knew what she would write:
Dear Norma,
Your daughter has violated the sanctity of my home! She attacked my darling Marjorie unprovoked, and then fled! I also must tell you that she's bobbed her hair – of course, by the time you receive this letter, the little heathen will have stepped off the train in Eau Claire and you will have seen it for yourself. Oh! The horror!
Bernice felt a hollow place in her stomach. Her mother would simply die from embarrassment when she saw Bernice's new style. "It's not the way it's done around here, child," she would chide her. "Not in Eau Claire!"
"It's not my fault, mother!" Bernice would say.
"Nonsense!" Her mother would say, locking her in her room.
Bernice flushed a little. Her mother would never believe she had been duped into cutting off her chestnut mane, that Warren's eyes had put her in a bit of a trance, that Marjorie's honey-dipped lies had tricked her. She knew that she should have never have wanted to be part of the popular set. Her cousin knew all along. She used Bernice's failure at society to better herself. It was all a game! How funny Marjorie must have thought it was. Bernice had the last laugh, though. Foolish Marjorie.
Foolish Bernice was more like it, she thought to herself. She should have been happy with that boring Otis boy she danced with. She should have never looked to Warren as her goal. It was as much her own fault as it was Marjorie's.
Bernice looked out the window, out to the plains. She wished that she could have seen Marjorie's reaction to Bernice's going away present. The sun was fully raised by now. It was allegorical, obviously, Bernice thought. The sun had set on her long hair and her meek behavior. The sun was rising on her new life and her new bobbed hair. She smiled, thinking of the last month. There would be hell to pay, but she would gladly face it. She had never felt more alive.