“Mhmm . . . .”

Giving a skeptical look through the mirror that I faced, the hair stylist ruffled the jagged ends of my hair and proceeded to spray water over it all. Obviously she didn’t believe my story of my three-year-old cousin attacking me with her craft scissors while I was napping. It wasn’t a total lie: I did have a three-year-old cousin, but I hadn’t seen her since she was a couple of months old.

I simply smiled at the lady and waited for her to work some kind of miracle on my jacked-up hairdo. After finally leaving school (humiliatingly attending the rest of my classes twenty minutes after lunch ended), I had called several places asking for an emergency haircut. Laughing into the speaker, they all told me sorry and hung up. Fed up, I rode the bus to Apgujeong and stepped into the first shop I saw. Going to front desk, I ripped my hat off and stared the girl in the face. I thought she was going to faint before she ushered me into a chair and insisted a co-worker deal with her current appointment.

“The back is so chopped I’m going to have to take another inch or so off to even it all out,” the young women said, brushing her own bleached-blonde hair out of her face. I looked away from the long locks and at myself in the mirror. The only hairs left intact were my bangs that had long ago needed t. There was no salvaging my hair whatsoever.

My phone buzzing in my lap attracted my attention for a while. It was Jaeeun wanting to know where I was and why I was not home yet. A simple “I’m shopping” threw her off and I didn’t bother replying to her “okay.”

“Alright, I’ve done all I can,” the stylist announced, setting aside everything and picking at one strand that didn’t want to stay.

Looking up from my lap, my fingers tingled and heat rushed in my veins. I was glad I hadn’t eaten anything that day or else I very well might’ve laid back out all over the salon floor in pure hatred. The rational part of me told me to stay calm and thank the lady because nothing more could’ve been done, but the angry and embarrassed side of me wanted to cry and throw a fit because of the boyish haircut I now had, courtesy of Oh Sehun. Instead of t my bangs, she barely managed to push them to the side as they were still quite short and layered the hair around my face. The rest was short, to put it simply. I could barely feel it graze the nape of my neck and, reaching up, I habitually grabbed the ends. Only now they didn’t touch my shoulders.

I stood and gave a slight bow. Despite my foul mood, I knew that she had done all she could and left the shop after giving her my thanks. And I proceeded to travel and arrive home with my hat covering my hair.

“Your grandma called this morning. I was going to tell you to stop by after school but you practically flew out the door,” Mom said, hearing me close the door.

My eyes scanned the room, suddenly wondering if Grandma had hidden cameras set up and a bugging device attached to me. Chances were that she was only calling because it had been a while since I had last visited, but she had a heck of a timing.

I stepped into the utility room where my mom was sorting clothes into a cardboard box and the washer. Watching her for a few moments, I went and climbed onto the dryer and planted myself there.

“Sorry. I’ll go see her sometime next week,” I said, knowing I would not be in a mood any time soon to chat with that stubborn old lady. “What are you doing?” I asked as I noticed exactly what the one in front of me was doing.

Throwing a pair of folded grey sweatpants into the cardboard box, she turned and chucked a white t-shirt into the washer.

“Your dad gained weight so some of his clothes aren’t fitting anymore. Get down from there,” she said, throwing a few more pairs of pants into the box. I grumpily slid off the machine, adjusting the hat on my head as it was becoming itchy.

With a grunt, I left the room and sauntered up the stairs to my bedroom. Though having fallen asleep quite early the night before, I immensely felt the need to just lie down and rest. And once I did, it was hours of only staring at the ceiling before I fell asleep: the next thing I knew was waking with a start the next morning, nursing a pounding headache, and realizing I had only ten minutes to get dressed and to the bus stop.

Instead of simply putting my bag away when I first arrived, I stuffed all of my books into it and slung it back over my shoulder, nearly knocking the air entirely out of my lungs. It may have been a bit drastic, but it meant fewer trips to my locker and therefore successfully avoiding run-ins with the makeup crew. And that was how I ended up getting through Thursday by only facing them a tiny moment of the day, stalking off any time one of them opened their mouths, avoiding the hallways until lunch, spending lunch in the third floor bathroom, and hiding there after classes for a good twenty minutes until I was sure everyone was gone.

But I just missed the luck bucket on Friday. A text came through as I left my last class, my mother insisting that I come home as soon as school ended and no questions asked. Knowing my mother’s temper, I sprinted for the back entrance, somewhat glad I didn’t have to walk home again, but that bit of gladness departed from me when I rounded the corner and faced Oh Sehun and his busted locker.

“. . . I’m just saying. We have it at my place every year. Why not go out and try something new for a change? It’s my birthday, anyway,” Luhan said, tossing a soccer ball between his hands as he waited for Sehun to get his things.

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