I got myself up and Mr. Stewart and I went out the door in the frigid morning weather. I pulled my sweatshirt closer to me as we both got into the car and Mr. Stewart turned on the engine. Normally, the radio would be on, or Mr. Stewart and I would be talking up a storm, but we were both quiet. Instead, I looked out the window as we drove on the pacific coast highway. There was a storm brewing up past the coast; big dark clouds were gathering, and the sky looked as if it would explode with rain, thunder and lightning any second now. And so, I wasn't surprised when it did five minutes later.
"Wow," Mr. Stewart laughed when the rain pelted the windshield. "It's really coming down hard." I nodded in response, and continued to look out the window. "I think we'll ask Dr. Chow when you can go back to school," Mr. Stewart told me, trying to keep up the conversation. "If you don't start going back soon, you might have to repeat the ninth grade."
I groaned in response, "I don't care what Dr. Chow says then." I told Mr. Stewart, coming to my own decision, "I'll go back to school tomorrow, and nothing is going to stop me."
Mr. Stewart turned to me, and gave me a look, but that was all he could do because he was still driving the car. "I don't know if tomorrow's the best," He told me, when he turned back to face the room, "Maybe next week. You've got everything under control – all of your make up work is finished." I nodded my head, because it was.
And then I turned back to face the side window, and I watched the rain pelt it, and listened to the thunder. I started to twirl my hair on one finger before I realized that my hair was starting to fall out again. A clump of my blond hair fell into my lap as I pulled my hand away in attempts to stop playing with my hair. I looked down at it for a while, just staring, and then I realized what happened and picked up the strands into my palm.
"Maybe we should get you a haircut," Mr. Stewart said, surprising me because I didn't know he was watching, "If your hairs shorter than it won't be so bad losing it."

I shrugged my shoulders, it had been so long since I'd cut my hair that I was unsure about doing it. But when it came down to what was best, I guess I had to do it. Besides, I was exactly enjoying having lost my hair already. "Alright," I whispered to Mr. Stewart, as I continued to face the window and look out at the storm. "I'll do it, but not to short."

Mr. Stewart nodded, pulling into the outpatient entrance at the hospital, "Okay." He agreed, putting the car into park, "If you feel up to it, maybe we can do it after chemo."

Sure enough, I didn't have such bad reaction to the chemo this time. The throwing up was mild, and most of it was done in the hospital instead of outside. Mr. Stewart turned to me as we walked outside to the storm, and just before we walked out the door he asked me again, "Do you want to get your hair cut now, because if you don't – then we don't have to."

I shrugged again, and thought about it for a brief second before I gave my answer, "I'll do it." I practically whispered to Mr. Stewart. He nodded, and led me to the car, making sure that I was okay before he started the car. We drove to the nearest hair dressers in Santa Monica, one that Mr. Stewart has been to before, and by then I was starting to get a little nervous.

We walked in together, a barber greeting Mr. Stewart as he walked through the door. I sat there silently until Mr. Stewart motioned towards me, "This is Lily." He told the guy that had greeting him, "Can you cut off a few inches of her hair for me Paul?" The guy nodded, showing me to the chair and sitting me down.

"Good Morning Lily," Paul said as he sprayed me hair with water to make it wet. "How are we doing today?"

I shrugged my shoulders, and said nothing else, Paul looked over at Mr. Stewart for an answer, but he did the same. "How much do you want off?" Paul tried again.

I looked at my hair in the mirror; with it wet it seemed a lot longer. I shrugged again, and Mr. Stewart cut in, "A little above her shoulders." He told Paul, "Leave just enough to put into a ponytail."

Paul nodded, and I shut my eyes as he started to cut. I could feel my hair falling to the ground, and when I opened my eyes again, I looked so different. My hair was just above my shoulders, which was quite a bit shorter than before. "Thank you," I told Paul before I jumped off the chair. I started to get a nauseous feeling in my stomach, and asked for the bathroom, which Mr. Stewart directed me to.

When I was done, I walked outside to the parlour to find Mr. Stewart and Paul talking. I coughed a little, and both then realized that I was standing in the room. So Mr. Stewart took my hand, and led me out the door thanking Paul on the way.