James stood in front of the mirror, moodily running his fingers
through what
was left of his hair.
"My crowning glory...all gone!" He pouted.
"Horrid Scyther."
The team had come off worst in a bout with a Scyther; all their Pokémon had been defeated, and the duo themselves had been given a crew cut by the bug type's razor-sharp pincers. While Arbok, Weezing, Lickitung and Victreebell recovered at the Pokémon Center, Jessie, James and Meowth had checked into a cheap motel to regroup and lick their wounds.
What would James' mother say if she could see him now? He could remember his first haircut, when he was four - his father had finally put his foot down, saying that a boy with long curls would get picked on at school. Mom had wept as the barber snipped off his soft baby locks.
As a shy teenager James let his hair grow long again, hiding from the world behind a blue curtain. His father had yelled, but his mother had stuck up for him. "Let the boy have the style he wants," she had said, adding "My Jimmy's hair is so beautiful, it's a crime to cut it."
He managed a small chuckle. Unlike Mom, Jessie was always teasing him about his almost shoulder-length blue hair, a strand or two of which always fell across his large green eyes. She said it made him look...sissy. Maybe the punk's crest gave him a tougher appearance. He growled into the mirror.
"My name's James, I'm hard and mean.
I'm Team Rocket's death machine!
Yeah!"
He struck a pose, scowling and baring his teeth, one
hand curled
into a fist.
"Yeah - right!" came a catcall behind him.
James jumped and
went bright red.
"Meowth! How long have you been standing
there?" he snapped.
"Long enough ta see that someone's feelin' butch!" laughed the cat
Pokémon, dodging as James aimed a cushion at him.
"Come here, you!" James yelled. He threw himself into a full-length tackle and grabbed Meowth round the middle. "I'll give you something to laugh about!" He tickled his friend's tummy until the little creature squealed and begged for mercy.
The two lay on the floor, panting and grinning. James had forgotten he'd been in a mood, and would have forgotten about his hair if he hadn't missed the ever-present bangs brushing his face and shading his eyes. Then he heard a crash from the adjoining room.
"Jess?" he asked timidly, peering around the door.
His partner crammed both hands over her shorn head. "Go AWAY!" she screeched. Fragments of a compact mirror glittered on the floor where Jessie had hurled it. Her eyes were red, and black trails down each cheek showed where tears had smudged her mascara.
"Come on, Jessie. It's only me." James walked slowly towards her. Jessie promptly threw something at him - as he ducked he registered that it was, ironically enough, a comb.
"No! I can't let anyone see me like this!"
"Not even me?"
There was hurt
in James' voice.
"NO!"
He put a hand to his forehead, shading his eyes. "There. I'm not looking at you - see? I'm just going to pick up this broken glass."
"Dat's seven years of bad luck, ya know!" Meowth had sneaked in behind James and was smirking at the bald Jessie. She shrieked again.
"Have we had anything but bad luck since we started following the twerp trio? If it wasn't for them I wouldn't look like a crash test dummy!"
Meowth beamed. "Well, ya know what they say - hair today, gone tomorrow!"
"Yeah, you could say we had a close shave!" James chimed in, chuckling.
"OUT! Both of you! NOW!" Jessie's scream hit dog-whistle pitch. James, startled, fumbled the piece of mirror he was holding and cut a jagged slit in his finger.
"Owww!" He popped his finger into his mouth and sucked it, sudden tears of shock coming to his eyes.
"Are you OK?" One hand still splayed over her head, Jessie crossed the room and bent down to her partner - just as he straightened up. Their heads clonked together and both sat down on the floor.
James gave a nervous giggle and to his surprise Jessie joined in. But it quickly turned to a heartbroken sob.
"My beautiful hair...my crowning glory..."
James didn't know what to say. He had been only half-serious when he mourned his own 'crowning glory'. While he was miffed at the loss of his hair, the look he'd been left with could pass for normal on him. But he had to admit that Jessie looked rather peculiar.
She had every right to feel mutilated. Her scarlet tresses were practically a trademark, as much a part of her as an arm or a leg. Without them, his closest friend looked like a stranger.
"I'm really sorry, Jessie. It'll be OK...it'll grow back," he said awkwardly. "And at least it happened to all of us, not just you."
"It could have been woiss," Meowth agreed, nodding vigorously. "Dat Scyther could've had my tail off. Tails never grow back." He rubbed the bald strip that the Scyther had shaved from his chin to his forehead.
Jessie sobbed harder. "I know it's childish. But my hair was the only part of me that I was really proud of. It was the only thing that made me look...pretty." She buried her face in her hands.
James winced as if he'd been physically hit. Jessie had always seemed so sure of her own attractiveness - had it all been an act? Was she actually as insecure as he was himself? It hurt him more than any Scyther could to hear his glamorous, lively partner talk like this.
He took her shoulders and shook her with uncharacteristic forcefulness. "Don't ever say that! Jessie, look at me - look at me!" Startled, Jessie did as she was told. James gently wiped her face clean with a tissue. "You're still pretty...you're...Jess, you're beautiful!"
He meant it. Without the perfect, confident sweep of long red hair or the usual elaborate makeup, Jessie looked far younger and strangely vulnerable. Her amethyst eyes seemed huge in a small, pointed face that looked pleadingly up at James, wanting him to be telling the truth. James gaped at her as if seeing her for the first time.
"Really?" she asked in a tiny voice.
"Yes, Jessie," he whispered. "You're beautiful no matter what. I've seen you burned, frazzled, soaked, shocked, gunked and blasted off a hundred times, and each time you just look more stunning than ever." He put his arm around her. "I don't know how you do it."
"James..." She clung to him like a child, burying her head in the crook of his arm. "Thank you."
James gently stroked the remaining wisp of red hair with one finger. It was as soft as a kitten's fur. With his other hand he cupped and lifted Jessie's chin, and, kneeling on the carpet, he kissed the upturned face.