There once was a boy with messy hair. It stuck out at silly angles and was always untidy. Never in the boy's life had he used a comb or a brush or shampoo or conditioner and he had no idea what a hairdryer was for.
Three times a year he would get his father’s garden shears and, without much care, cut any of the longer bits that stuck out farther than the rest. Lots of people recognised him as the messy haired boy, yet few ever talked to him. The boy kept to himself and didn’t say much at all. In fact the only words anyone had ever heard the boy say was ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ for, though he was quiet, he was very polite.

Apart from those very few words the boy’s communication skills consisted of a nod or a shake of the head and the occasional furrowed brow. He didn’t really see the point in saying anything unless it was important and, as nothing was important to him, he said very little. Even his appearance was unimportant to him, hence the messy hair.

His grooming ritual generally consisted of showering, dressing and brushing of his teeth as, although having messy hair he was certainly not a dirty boy.

On most of his days the boy could be found sitting on steps or on walls in the park watching the world pass by and generally wasting time as he really enjoyed doing nothing and found no interest in doing anything at all.

Nobody paid attention to the boy with the messy hair until one morning, as he sat at the bottom of some steps in the local park, trying his hardest to do as little as possible, a girl with red hair and green eyes skipped past him. She immediately noticed the boy sitting alone, doing nothing of importance and stood motionless, watching him for several minutes. Oblivious, the boy continued staring into space until eventually he looked up and saw her standing there watching him.

The first thing he saw was her red hair. It was not red in the normal, natural sense of the colour. In fact the boy had never seen a red quite like it. It reminded him of the red of a fire engine, but with dark streaks of chocolate maroon, and hints of deep orange sunlight. Her hair was very straight and neat as though it had been combed for hours and hours and just above her forehead a bright green headband glistened in light and kept everything tidily in place. Her green eyes matched the green of her hair band and she looked out at the boy from under a straight red fringe. She wore blue jeans and a green T-shirt and little red shoes that seemed to cower away from the red of her hair. She smiled at the boy as their eyes met and without thinking he smiled back.

Slowly and quietly the girl wandered closer to the boy and with a stifled giggle she reached out her hand and ruffled the boy’s messy hair. The boy was shocked and lost for words; nobody had ever paid him any attention before, never mind touched his messy hair.

The girl giggled again, then, with another little skip in her step, wandered off, glancing back occasionally at the little boy who sat frozen with shock, mouth hanging wide. At that moment the boy realised that for the first time in his life there was something very important to do.

He sprang to his feet and rummaged in his pocket. The boy had never found anything important enough to spend money on and so, when he looked down at his hand he saw it was filled with various coins and notes. Guessing roughly at how much money he had, the eager boy sped off out of the park towards the main road nearby. When he got there he darted between shop windows, inspecting each one. He’d never looked in shops before, as until now they’d never before been important but finally after searching the length of the street he found what he was looking for.

By this time, nerves had got hold of the boy. He’d never done anything like this before and so slowly and timidly he opened the door of the last shop on the street.

As he stepped into the shop a woman greeted him with a gasp. He stood in the doorway glancing up at the tall lady, awkwardly and showed her the money.

 “Please?” he said.

 “My, oh my,” said the lady, smiling warmly. “I think you’ve come to the right place.” The woman stooped slightly so her eye level was the same as the boy’s. She was a pretty woman with a friendly face, which instantly put the boy at ease.

“Come with me little one,” she said and offered her hand. The boy took it and let the lady lead him further into the shop. She told him to sit on a chair, which she then stood behind. Pressing a button with her foot, the chair rose slowly upwards until the boy’s feet dangled in the air. He looked at the lady’s reflection in the mirror that now faced him. She was holding a pair of scissors and a comb. Her warm smile returned as she set about the task of cutting the boy’s messy hair, which took a ridiculously long time and tired the hairdresser out.

“That’s you all done,” she announced, finally.

“Thank you,” said the boy, and handed over his money. An hour later the boy was skipping out of the shop back to the steps where he had last seen the red haired girl. As he went he glanced in every window trying to get a glimpse of his tidy new haircut. It was short and neat and the lady had even put a little wax in it to keep it in same style.

He reached the steps, sat down and waited. As he sat there waiting patiently he looked at his surroundings. He had never done this before as it had never seemed important. He looked at the sky and the clouds, the trees and the grass and he realised for the first time that the stairs he always sat on led into a park filled with people. Boys were playing football on the red graze pitches to his left; ahead of him younger kids chased each other through the trees and to the right a sloping grass-covered hill was littered with groups of grown-ups and children enjoying the sunshine.

He smiled; he liked the park, parks were important.

He gazed around him unaware of the little red haired girl who was now heading towards him. It was her stifled giggle that finally got his attention, as she stopped three feet from the boy.

When his eyes fell on her he began to laugh. Her clothes were the same: green tee shirt, blue jeans and red shoes. Her face was the same: bright green eyes and pale skin. It was her hair that was different. Although still a collage of bright reds, maroons and oranges, it was no longer straight and tidy and the hair band was now missing. Instead her hair was a tangled mess with bits sticking out in all directions, like an unkempt birds nest.

They laughed for a little while until the girl reached out and ruffled the boy’s neat hair. The boy then spoke, but this time he didn’t say ‘thank you’ or ‘please,’ this time he said “hello.”