When I was in the third grade I had a pretty tight click of friends on the playground. There was one boy in class who would probably do anything to join us. I remember he was partially deaf and knew sign language so, to all the kids, he was seen as “weird”. One day, during arts and crafts I dared him to get the scissors and cut a chunk of his bangs. He had his doubts, but I assured him it would look really cool. Sure enough, he did it. Less than a beat later, the teacher grabbed his fist full of hair and asked him why he would do that. He began to cry, pointed at me, and exclaimed: “He made me do it!”. I told the teacher I had no idea what he was  talking about and cutting his hair was a dumb move. I didn’t get in trouble.

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