Remember Me in Green and Brown

“Look at her hair!”

“Green? It looks awful.”

Whispers just like that followed Maggie Williams every day since the day she’d put green streaks in her hair – two years, four months and seventeen days in the past. She didn’t know why; she thought the green was a good contrasting color to the brown of her hair. She thought her streaks were different and beautiful. Nobody else did.

Maggie’s best friend, Amber, avoided mentioning the green out of fear that it would ruin their friendship. Instead, she tried defending Maggie when people would tease her.

“Hey, Maggie! You’ve got seaweed in your hair,” people would say. Amber would step in front of Maggie and think of a snappy retort to respond with. Eventually, she ran out of interesting comebacks and started reusing the old. It wasn’t long afterward that the others came up with sharper jabs at Maggie.

Amber felt sorry that she couldn’t really do anything. Maggie was shy, and she had a hard time expressing herself. The new hair color, Amber surmised, was her way of expression and a way of saying that she was unique.

It was two years, four months and seventeen days since the teasing started that Maggie Williams put a pen to paper and wrote a note that would change what everyone thought of her. It was somewhat brief, but the meaning was very clear. Taped to her locker, she left it and left school knowing that she wouldn’t be coming back for the rest of junior year.

The note was found by a fellow junior that same day. Brett Thompson spotted it on his way to basketball practice, though he wasn’t sure whether he should read it. It could have been personal, or nothing or it could have been very serious.

Brett always heard his friends tease that girl with the green streaks in her hair, Maggie. He didn’t really know her, he only saw her in passing every once in a while. She always had such a nervous look on her face, like everyone around her was out to get her. And every so often, usually on the days where Maggie was around and the teasing was coming from everywhere, he’d go home feeling sorry for the poor girl. He didn’t tell anyone, but he wished he could stop everyone from terrorizing her – she must have had friends among them before.

Thinking on that, and feeling sorry for her again, Brett pulled the note from Maggie’s locker and opened it, finding shaky handwriting - presumably Maggie’s - inside.

For anyone who finds this, it started. That sent alarm bells off in Brett’s mind, though he tried to ignore them.

My name is Maggie Williams, and I used to have friends here. I was that shy, plain girl that everyone told their secrets to because I wouldn’t tell anyone. Maybe you don’t know me, maybe you do, but that doesn’t matter. I just want you to remember me, not for who I was before, but for who I was today and two years ago. I wanted to be different, and I found a way to do that. When I don’t come back tomorrow, tell everyone that they should have had some respect for a girl who wanted to be different.

When he finished reading, Brett found himself feeling guilty that he couldn’t stop whatever was going to happen to that girl. He’d never done anything to her – maybe they could have been friends. But that wasn’t going to happen if Maggie had her way.

“I’m sorry I never knew you, Maggie,” he said softly, tucking the note carefully into a pocket in his sports bag.



Maggie Williams sat in her bedroom, writing a very short note to her parents. She’d stolen a steak knife from the kitchen and placed it on the bed next to her.

She set her pen down, reading her note over one last time.

Mom, Dad, I’m so sorry it has to be like this. I tried so hard to fit in, but nothing worked. I know you never liked the green, but promise me you’ll remember your little girl in green and brown.

She sighed and leaned back onto her pillows for the last time. She took a breath, picked up the knife, and her world dissolved in green, brown and red.



A funeral was held for Maggie two weeks later, in late May. The coroner had ruled Maggie’s death a suicide, and the poor girl’s parents were grief-stricken, as well as Maggie’s few friends.

“She was so quiet and nice!” some would say, almost feeling sorry for their torturous teasings.

“She was my best friend,” others sobbed, but in a carefully fake manner. Only a few were honest in their words.

Members of the junior class were given the chance to say a few words about Maggie, but Amber was crying too much to say anything. Brett Thompson was the first to speak, to the surprise of the juniors who were actually present at the funeral.

“I never got the chance to know, Maggie,” he began. “I know some of you would say, ‘Then why are you talking?’ Here’s why: I think I understand Maggie, from all that I’ve heard. Maggie wanted to be different because she’d always been plain. She wanted to stand apart from everyone. Freshman year, she came to school with green streaks in her hair. Since then, she’d been teased, practically tortured. I never understood why. We may not have always liked it, but Maggie was always one of us, and we shunned her away without the slightest bit of respect. Is that what you want to remember when you think of her? It’s not for me. I want to remember Maggie Williams as the girl with brown and green hair that I never got to know properly. I want to remember her as the girl that should have been accepted with open arms. And I want you to remember her as a girl who just wanted to be different.”

Silence followed Brett’s words, and he could feel the words sinking into everyone. A single tear slid down the side of his face, but he didn’t wipe it away. He just ran his left hand through his moderately long, light brown hair and sighed inwardly. It would take a while, but perhaps Maggie would get her last wish granted and be remembered in green and brown by everyone.