Baby Oil

Summer 2007

By Chetan Patel

"Chetan! Get the baby oil and come here. Now!" My mother's voice echoed through the house, waking up the neighbors and stirring their cat. I rushed out the bathroom, comb in hand, into my mother's room and snatched the Johnson's Baby Oil off her desk. I skipped to the living room and plopped down in front my mother who sat crisscross on the couch. The back of my head faced hers as I stared aimlessly into the kitchen, watching my brother slurp up a bowl of Frosted Flakes. I heard the squirting of baby oil into my mother's hand, and the gurgling sound as she rubbed her hands together. I shrugged as she rubbed her hands through my hair, fearing she'd get my new blue shirt wet and oily. She snatched the comb out of my hand and after three strokes (one to the left, on to the right, and one down the back), she was done.

Running to my mother's room to put the oil and comb back, I got a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The poorly lit hallway was ablaze as the lights reflected off my head. I hurried, hoping I'd have time for breakfast.

Third grade was boring for me. Not only was I past my multiples, I was reading books bigger than some of my classmates' arms. I sat next to my best friend, Nimesh who came to school with a shiny head also. He was still in the multiples of nine and was reading The Witches.

The bell rang for class to start and my fellow students shuffled in and took their seats, one of them being Anh. She was one of my two arch foes, the other was Robbie, but I didn't have to deal with him with year. He got struck with Mr. _____. I shuddered. The thought of that man would make any kid run for cover. He was known to have hit children. I witnessed him once choking a boy because he couldn't read properly. Good thing I have Mrs. Todd, the perkiest and nicest teacher I've come across in my five years of education.

"Miss Todd, Miss Todd," Anh hissed, her arm flapping in the air.

"Yes, Anh," Mrs. Todd replied.

"Why do Nimesh and Chetan have shiny heads?"

"I don't know Anh. Maybe we should ask them." The classes' eyes fell on the two of us. I became nervous and didn't want to talk. What if they make fun of me? I hated Anh. She always had to say something to bother me. Well this time she wasn't going to get away with it! This time, I was going to let her have it. Watch, today at lunch, she's-

"I put baby oil in my hair," Nimesh announced without hesitation.

"What about you Chetan?" Anh asked, her eyes taunting me. What she really wanted me to say was that I use baby oil. She wanted me to be humiliated in front of the class. I wasn't going to let her have the pleasure.

"I used water," I lied.

"And it gets that shiny?" Mrs. Todd asked, frowning.

"Yup." Mrs. Todd stared at me, trying to pry the truth out of me.

After a pause, she started, "Today in class, we'll learn about...."

Sixth grade started. Because of orientation, I was one of the few kids from Beach Elementary who knew their way around Ockley Green Middle School.

A group of sixth graders stood outside the cafeteria, aching for the new school year to begin. I was one of them. I knew few of the faces around me, including one of my old four-square buds, Michael.

"Doesn't your brother go here?" he asked, his eyes bulging out of his glasses.

"Yeah," I said coolly.

"Why are you hanging around me? What if someone tried to beat you up? What if some....." Michael's endless babbling annoyed me. Once you got him started, nothing could stop him. "And what if someone tries to beat you up? Huh? What are you goin-"

"Wait Michael, I think I see someone calling me." I walked to the other cafeteria door and thankfully Michael didn't follow. The bell rang, and the sixth grade began.

"Chetan! Why don't you ever comb your hair?" Jeremy asked, placing a French fry into his mouth.

"I do, but the wind messed it up." I looked at the people around me. Jeremy sat across from me and Nimesh to my right. Adam, an old friend from grade school sat to my left and Michael completed our circle. Everyone was dressed in the latest fashions, except me. I wore a white T-shirt, blue jeans and a pair of imitation Nikes from K-Mart. They had crusty hair, from the gel and hair spray they used every morning. Even Nimesh had left the baby oil behind in elementary school.

"Chetan! Come here with the baby oil and comb!" my mother shouted. I stood in front of the bathroom mirror. I squirted out my brother's LA Looks gel and ran it through my hair. It shined as much as it did with baby oil, but was a hundred times thicker. I picked up my brother's brush in disgust. The tangled hairs and white flakes that dotted the blue brush didn't look too inviting. The strong bristles scratched my head, burning my scalp as I ran it through my hair. I tried to mold my hair like his, ending up with something that could be called a hairstyle.

I marched to school and held my head up high in Ockley Green's crowded hallways. No one noticed my new do, of course, not even Nimesh, Jeremy, Michael, or Adam. But that didn't matter, I was happy with my hair's new shape.

Summer 2007