The Day Sam Became an Outlaw

A short story about love and power

Sam Brill didn’t expect to become an outlaw when he went to school on Tuesday morning. 

Sam sat behind Delsey Egan in Ms. Hayworth’s American History class. He had wanted to sit to her side so they could share glances, but obnoxious Josh Killinger plopped his skinny behind in that seat just as Sam placed his books on the desk.

“Your girlfriend’s mine now,” Josh said. The room’s fluorescent ceiling light reflected off his braces, causing Sam to wince. “Guess that means we’re engaged.” 

As he faux pawed Delsey’s leg, Ms. Hayworth barked, “Do we have a problem, Mr. Killinger?”

“No problem.” Josh tucked his hands in his pockets and studied the scratches on the desk. 

The remaining students shuffled in their seats. A few started their pens’ ink flowing by scribbling on blank pages, while others fished in their backpacks for their American history textbooks. 

Outside their first-floor classroom, a groundsman pushed a manual lawn mower. 

Delsey mouthed to Sam, “Love you,” and Sam sat behind her from where he enjoyed a pleasing view of her soft neck and buzz-cut auburn hair. 

He ran his fingers along his crew cut, which felt like a hedgehog’s prickly fur.

“Listen up, class. There’s something for everyone in today’s lesson about the American railroad.” Chalk screeched against the blackboard as Ms. Hayworth drew a steam locomotive. 

Half the class shrieked, and half the class clasped their hands over their ears. 

“For those who like toys, trains are the ultimate treat. If you’re an explorer, today’s lesson is for you. If you’re planning a career as a business tycoon, you’ll want to pay close attention, and if you enjoy learning about American history”—she smiled at June Driver in the first row whose eyes were wide open and mouth agape—“you’re going to love today.”

As she drew a map showing the location of the first thirteen-mile railroad, the classroom’s door opened. 

Vice-principal Vincent Semel, flanked by two gym teachers, marched in. Semel clutched a wooden clipboard. 

One of the gym teachers carried a pair of barber scissors, and the other a metal ruler.

“Sorry to interrupt, Ms. Hayworth, but it’s the state-mandated inspection time. 

In unison, the twenty-two eleventh graders groaned and felt their heads. 

The boy behind Sam muttered, “The last thing I want is the gym teacher cutting my hair.”

The girl to his left replied, “You got no choice, Mikey. Snip, snip if it’s too long.” 

The vice-principal stood in front of the blackboard. “As you know, the government requires that we check all students’ hair length monthly. Nobody may have hair over five millimeters because that makes us other-worldly strong.”

“Yeah, but if we grow our hair long, we become super fit and don’t have to go to gym class,” one of the students blurted.

“And I’ll be the king of dodgeball,” another kid said.

Semel slammed his fist on the teacher’s desk and shouted, “This is serious! I don’t want any of you to be executed. You’re our students, our family, and it’s our job to protect you. These inspections are for your own good. That said, you may not grow your hair long and become super strong. It is forbidden. Anyone—adult or child—whose hair exceeds five millimeters is put to death. I shouldn’t have to remind you of that.”

Sam thought about his parents complaining about random hair inspections at work, hair length checks before boarding planes, random hair stops on the street, and the hair police interrupting restaurant dinners. His mom said she once took a taxi, and the driver was an undercover hair cop who demanded to measure her before evicting her from the fake cab. 

Everyone hated these inspections, and everyone had to put up with them.

People had worn their hair short for the past three-hundred and thirteen years. It was the bargain the world made for civilization, the only way to end the preceding thousands of years of relentless wars. When anyone could become a superhuman by having long locks, peace and prosperity were impossible.

The only way to enforce this rule was with the most severe penalty: death.

At twenty-five millimeters, powers emerged. Five millimeters, the law in every country, provided a safe buffer between civilization and barbarism.

Movie companies dared not make films about the old times showing people’s manes. There was no art in books and museums depicting people with long hair. 

Sam dreamed about Delsey with long hair and wondered if she dreamed the same about him.

“Alphabetical order. Brill, Sam,” Semel said. 

The gym teachers bracketed Sam’s desk while the vice-principal pressed the ruler against Sam’s head with so much force that Sam thought it would dent his skull. 

“Exactly five millimeters!” he said. “Time for a trim.”

The gym teacher with the scissors snapped them open and closed, the metal blades a silvery blur. He extended his scissors hand and stepped toward Sam. 

“Wait!” Semel shouted. “Make her cut his hair. Every kid’s got to learn how, and the lesson might as well start today.” 

The gym teacher handed the scissors to Delsey. 

Sam exhaled, his sigh momentarily the loudest sound in the classroom. If it had to be done, it might as well be by Delsey.  

Delsey scratched the top of her itching head and then palmed the scissors. She turned to Semel and stabbed his foot through his leather loafers. 

Semel screamed. 

The two gym teachers froze, which gave Delsey the seconds she needed. 

She took Sam’s hand and asked, “Do you want to come with me?”

Sam nodded. “Yes.”

Delsey grabbed his hand and pulled him from his seat with supernatural strength. One of the gym teachers grabbed her other arm, but she shook him off, spinning him backward. 

While the first gym teacher distracted Delsey, the other snapped handcuffs around her wrist. 

Delsey scoffed and pulled the cuffs apart, the links snapping as if made of straw.

Ms. Hayworth and the students froze. Nobody said a word. 

While still moaning, Semel pulled himself off the floor, using Delsey’s head for support. 

Delsey’s crew-cut wig slipped off, revealing lush red hair that cascaded over her shoulders. A breeze flitting through the open window lifted her hair like a million volts of static electricity. 

“Let’s go,” she said. Delsey slammed the classroom door with her open palm; it fell forward, sending a thunderclap through the hallway. 

“Where are we going?” Sam asked when they reached the woods a half kilometer from the school. Sam panted, but Delsey looked like she had just woken up after a luxurious nap in a five-star hotel. 

“Canada. There’s a safe zone for long hairs in Labrador. We’ll follow the woods bordering New Haven, make our way through Massachusetts, New Hampshire, then to freedom. That’s assuming you want to be with me.”

“Without any doubt. What happens when we get there?”

“In six months, your powers will return, the powers that we are supposed to have, that we were born with. When enough of us are reborn, the world will return to the old ways.” She kissed him and winked. “I can’t wait to see you with long hair, too.”

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If you enjoyed this story, I think you’ll also like my story, The Last Wizard.