New Hairstyle

"Miss Capulet," faint voices echoed. "Is she alive?"

The gasoline smell twisted his nose. His back was cold, but his lap was warm.

"That Montague dog killed her."

"What are you—" he recognized Benvolio's voice, but it cut off. "Romeo!"

His eyes snapped open. Dozens of students stared at him; the fighting must've stopped. He still cradled Julie's thin frame, unmoving. Except for her subtle chest, which meant she breathed.

Her cinnamon smell overpowered everything else.

She seemed to be sleeping, hair fanned out and sparkling with broken glass. His heart throbbed, and he forgot where he was—and the people around him—but only for a moment.

"I saw him throw her under that truck. The bastard—"

His cousin protested faster than he could. "He jumped in to save her, idiot."

The girl's toned legs stuck out of a rumpled skirt—one in an unnatural angle, bleeding. His first instinct was to pressure the wound, pulling her in. Her skin was firm, her blood warm.

"Where do you think you're touching—"

"Hush, she's bleeding," Benvolio dropped to his knees by his side, smelling of fear and sweat. He pulled his necktie off, looping it around her thigh. "Are you all right, Romeo?"

Was he? The immense pain was a distant memory now. But Julie—

"Call her an ambulance," he barked, pulling the tie tighter. It slowed the bleeding, but there was quite a pool underneath. Sticky and crimson. "How long has it been?"

"Has been what?" the kid was shaking. He behaved braver than expected, and Romeo was grateful. But didn't he pass out? "We heard the crash, and ran here—"

The semi's door opened. "I'm so sorry, I'm calling the hospital—" the driver circled his truck.

"Stop this foolishness at once!" A camo-printed vehicle arrived, wheels screeching.

Everyone froze.

Soldiers with batons and riot shields rushed the street. An armored personnel carrier followed, blocking the already gridlocked traffic. They split the crowd into Capulets and Montagues.

The governor's theatrical entry felt wasted on them. His perfume was strong and sharp.

"They aren't even fighting," he pinched his nose, sighing. "Paris go fetch Friar Laurence."

A boy jumped out, not a minute older than Romeo.

He and the governor were the only ones who didn't wear a uniform. His veins prickled at the sight of his dark hair and sharp face, though he didn't seem special.

Romeo still had this feeling—

"I didn't see them, my Lord, I swear—" the truck's driver dropped to his knees. The strange sensation was gone as soon as Paris left.

"Seen what? Oh, Romeo, are you— You are Romeo, right?" The governor's eyes widened as if realizing why the fighting stopped.

His concern puzzled him. "I'm fine, but Julie—"

"Yes. Medic," the governor snapped his finger. His fancy garbs swished as he turned, and a military doctor rushed in with her handheld scanners. "So anyone saw what happened here?"

The crowd of students who were so loud and eager only moments ago were quiet and humbled by his presence. Nobody dared to talk first now.

If the accident wasn't enough to dampen their spirits, the soldiers around them were.

"That Montague," a Capulet thug finally spoke. "In one moment, he was here, then we heard a crash, and he was there. He tried to throw our Lady Juliett under the truck—"

"Nonsense, he rushed in to save her," Benvolio took his side, clutching his inhaler.

"She broke a leg, but she's fine," the medic noted. A cloud of antiseptic followed her, flashing a wary smile at Romeo. "Nice job with the bleeding, but you should hold still."

Why was everyone so concerned about him?

Even Capulet thugs, while their heir's life was on the line. He felt fine. If anything, he was stronger than ever. And who made his heart race was in his arms, wounded and unconscious.

"Make sure you scan him down from head to toe too," he ordered, crossing his arms as he turned away. "Now, who'll tell me the full story then?"

"Lord Escalus, so sorry for this," the friar arrived at the scene. The air got heavy with incense.

That Paris boy escorted him, and the buzzing in Romeo's temple returned. Who was this guy?

"It's all my fault," the preacher immediately owned the blame. "I was too foolish teaching them about the Uniformity Accords when their families—"

"So your lecture caused this accident then, Friar Laurence?" The governor scoffed.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

His chapped lips formed a capital 'O'. "God have mercy, Mister Montague—"

That's as far as he got, turning pale.

"What? Why's everyone looking at me like that?" Romeo snapped as the medic finished Julie's treatment. The soldiers tried to move her, but he tightened his grip around her on instinct.

"B-Because—" Benvolio puffed his inhaler twice, before finding his words. "You took the full impact of the crash. Are you sure, you're fine?"

How could he—? He was way too far for that. The governor's men exploited Romeo's surprise to carry the Capulet heir away. She was still unconscious, but her leg stabilized.

The sweet cinnamon scent left with her.

"Please, stay put," the medic warned him when he tried to follow her.

"I'm fine," Romeo protested. Paris made his senses buzz, even while his eyes followed Juliet.

"No, you're not," Benvolio pointed at the semi's bumper. It crumpled in the shape of his back, hinting at an enormous impact.

"I—, I'm not feeling anything though," he pushed the scanner away, waving his limbs to show he wasn't harmed. "No scratch or bruise, see?"

"What does the doctor say?" Escalus asked.

"No obvious injuries," she confirmed, "but there is strong Gamma radiation."

The scanner crackled static, a new sound replacing the beeps. It confused and angered Romeo, and the antiseptic made him nauseous. Despite Julie's condition, everyone stared at him.

"I said I'm fine—"

Friar Laurence gripped his rosary. The governor's aide shot him a knowing smirk.

"Romeo—" Benvolio touched his arm. He was careful, and tentative. "Something's wrong."

"What?" He was about to blow, even at his cousin. "No injuries, you heard it. They make those fenders paper thin, and the radiation—"

"What's the cargo?" Governor Escalus interrupted, looking at the still groveling driver.

The question caught the man off guard. Listening to the crackling, his eyes went wide.

"It's food," he yelled. "I deliver imported sweets to the corner shops down the street." He glanced at the friar, sweating. "Regular food, no GMO. No radiation, I swear."

The scanner fell silent near the truck. Returning to Romeo, it crackled up again.

"See, I told you, he's a mutant," a thug mumbled, their spirits returning.

"Shut your foul mouth!" Benvolio jumped at the insult, for the second time today. Romeo didn't get anything, but all eyes remained on him. Friar Laurence's seemed extra wide.

"Wh-what's wrong with me?" he stuttered. "I'm not feeling anything. No injuries—"

"But— Your hair," his cousin pointed at him, confusing Romeo even more.

What about his hair?

He looked at the truck's chrome polish, and his breath hitched.

He expected his usual short black curls that greeted him in the mirror every morning. No, he didn't go bald, but the curls straightened out as if lightning hit him.

What's more, every single strand was pure white.