CHAPTER SIX

Spoiler alert: my hair does not, in fact, look better in the morning.

I’m up at eight for practice, and after I stumble into the bathroom and wash the eye crusties away, I look at myself in the mirror.

“Oh no,” I murmur.

This is bad.

Really bad.

My hair looks like a bowl cut and a broom had a baby on top of my head. The shorter parts stick out at all different lengths, even after I comb them down, even though I made sure to dry my hair completely before I went to sleep last night. And the cool, long, effortless swoop on top? It’s a shapeless mass that poofs above my horrified face.

“Hayley!” Ella pounds on the door.

I grit my teeth and open it.

“Holy shit!” Her eyebrows fly up. “What did you do?”

“What does it look like?” I brush past her, as if it’s fine, nothing’s wrong, I totally meant to look like this.

She just laughs and shuts the bathroom door behind her.

I toss my pride aside and run back to my room, scrabbling through my tangled bedding until I find my phone.

“Talia!” I screech as soon as she picks up my FaceTime. I put my face close to the screen so she can’t see my hair.

“Ow! Too loud.”

“Sorry, sorry.” I lower my voice to a whisper. “Talia. I fucked up.”

“What did you do?”

“I cut my hair.”

“You got a haircut?”

“No.”

She’s silent, looking at my face.

“I did it,” I say. “I cut it. Last night. With scissors. In the bathroom.”

She nods, mouth twitching, but she keeps her face serious. “I understand the gravity of the situation, so I am resisting the urge to make a Clue joke right now.”

“I appreciate your restraint,” I say. The Clue board game and movie was one of Talia’s special interests as a kid. For a while, whenever anyone asked a question that sounded even remotely like “Who did this?” she’d answer, “Colonel Mustard, in the ballroom, with the revolver.” I know how much effort it must take for her to hold back right now.

“How can I help?” she asks.

“I need to go to a salon. Or barbershop. Or wherever they cut hair. After practice. Fuck, Sherika is going to see my awful hair.”

“Rudy’s,” she says immediately. “On Capitol Hill. That’s where my mom takes me. I always see gay people there.”

“Perfect.”

“I’ll meet you there after your practice,” she says. “Don’t worry, we’ll fix this.”

I hide my hair under a baseball cap before I leave the house and keep it on when I get to the gym. I do not feel cute, and I do not want Sherika—or anyone else on the team—to see me like this. I’m hoping I can get away with the cap, and as the first few girls arrive, no one says anything.

“Hayley!” Mariah’s voice echoes across the gym floor just as I go up for a shot.

My arms jerk and the ball clanks off the backboard. Big miss. I turn around and her head is tilted, eyes scanning my face. “Where’s your hair?”

“In the trashcan at my house,” I say.

She cackles. “I could have figured that out.”

“Oh my gosh!” Anh’s made her way over, eyes wide. “Your hair!”

“All gone!” I force a smile.

“Are you OK? Is this a cry for help?” She narrows her eyes.

“No, no! I’m fine. Don’t joke about that.”

“Sorry. You’ve just had long hair for, like, forever.” Anh and I weren’t really friends in middle school, but we got put together for group projects a few times. She was always kind to me, even when other kids weren’t.

I shrug. “I just wanted a change.”

“Then why are you wearing a hat?” Mariah arches an eyebrow.

I glance around. No one is looking at us, so I sweep it off my head and strike a pose. Mariah and Anh both flinch.

“I’m getting it fixed after practice,” I say, my grin feeling more like a grimace.

“I’d hope so.” Mariah shakes her head, smirking. “Sherika see you yet?”

“Mariah!” I reach out and swat her arm. “She’ll hear you.”

We both glance over. Sherika is stretching on the sidelines, her long legs gleaming under the lights. She looks up, notices us, and waves, smiling that wide, gorgeous smile. I wave back and hear Mariah snicker behind me.

“You’re such a simp for that girl,” she murmurs.

“Shut up.” I hiss, glaring at her. She bats at me, I bat at her, and then we’re in a slap fight.

“Ladies!” All three of us jump, turning in unison at a voice we know too well. Coach Kay is standing there, arms crossed, but her eyes are crinkled in amusement. She’s tall and broad, a former center. She’s wearing her usual track pants and T-shirt, her white skin sunburned. “I’m glad to see practice is going well.”

“Yes. Yeah. It’s going great, Coach,” I say. “We were just getting started.”

“Wonderful.” She holds up a sheaf of paperwork. “I had these to do, and it felt like a good reason to get out of the house and see how y’all are doing down here. Hayley, are you in charge this summer?”

I nod. “Sherika’s been leading the practices with me.”

“Good. She knows a lot. She’ll be a good mentor.” Coach smiles at me. Am I imagining things or do her eyes pause on my hair? “OK, don’t let me distract you. Have fun.”

“Thanks!”

She heads across the gym to her office, exchanging high fives with some of the players along the way. I pull the baseball cap back on.

“She’ll be a good mentor?” Mariah murmurs. “Sherika’s varsity captain. You know what that means?”

“No, what?” I check to make sure my hair is completely hidden. Nobody else can see this disaster.

“I bet Coach has her eye on you to move up this year.”

“No way.” I wave her off.

“Don’t make me slap you again.” Mariah heads off to the sidelines to drop her bag. “Are we getting this thing started or what?”

Anh follows after her, walking backward, giving me a meaningful look.

I widen my eyes back and turn to the gym, calling out for everyone to circle up. As I do, a tingle of excitement runs through me. If Mariah’s right, I don’t want to give Coach any reason to doubt me. I’m going to make these practices the best they can possibly be.

When I get to Rudy’s after practice, baseball cap firmly in place, Talia is already there. She hugs me.

“Everything’s going to be OK,” she says solemnly.

I nod, and we head inside.

Rudy’s is cool—in both temperature and aesthetic. The floor is concrete with a row of leather swivel chairs in front of a mirror that runs the length of one of the walls. Concert posters are plastered all over the other black walls. It’s quiet. One man is getting his hair faded in the far chair by a hairstylist with a bright red mullet, and a girl our age is reading in one of the lobby chairs by the window.

The receptionist smiles as we walk up. They’re wearing a denim vest with a giant pronoun pin on the collar. “Hello! What can I do for you today?”

Talia looks at me.

I reach up and slowly pull off my cap. “I cut my own hair and I need someone to . . .” I gesture at my head, my face heating up.

The receptionist must see this all the time because they don’t laugh; they don’t even raise an eyebrow. “Of course! Have a seat over there and we’ll get you in as soon as he’s done. Shouldn’t take long.”

I pull the hat back on. “Thanks.”

We sit a few seats down from the girl, and Talia glances at her. “That’s such a good book.”

The girl lifts her head. “Hmm?” She’s got a heart-shaped face, bright teal eyeshadow, and short hair that looks professionally done. I pull my cap down a little tighter.

“Your book.” Talia gestures at it. “Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda? It’s one of my faves.”

“Oh! Yeah!” The girl looks at the book and then smiles at Talia. “I’ve never read it before. But I really like it so far.”

“You’ve never read it?”

“I know.” The girl grimaces. “It came out forever ago. I’ve always heard about it but never got around to it.”

“Oh no, I’m not judging!” Talia waves her hands. “I’m just excited you get to experience it for the first time.”

Talia’s face is definitely redder than a few seconds ago. Is she . . . blushing?

The girl puts the book down and tilts her head, smiling back. “That’s a really cool thing to say. People usually just make fun of me for living under a rock.”

“I mean, I think rocks are pretty cool.”

They smile at each other and just sit like that for a moment, looking at each other. Is Talia . . . flirting?

Is that girl flirting back?

“I’m Rose. They/them.” OK, not a girl.

We introduce ourselves and our pronouns and chat as we wait for my stylist to be free. Rose goes to the alternative school downtown, and they have the style to match: ripped black jeans, platform Doc Martens, and a cool denim vest covered in pins. Talia comments on the pins, and Rose stands up and twirls around, showing the vest off more. I spot various nerdy references as well as a nonbinary pride flag, and on the back is a big patch of a constellation.

“It’s Leo. My sun sign.”

They grin. “What are your signs?” Talia smiles. “We actually have the same birthday. We’re both Cancers.”

“Oh my god! So many feeeeeelings.”

Talia laughs. “I guess so.”

Rose and Talia keep chatting about astrology, and then about constellations in general, and then astronomy. When Talia finds out that Rose loves astronomy too, her whole face lights up.

“That was a major special interest of mine!”

“No way!”

“Yes. I’ve never met another person my age who’s so into it.”

And then they’re off, talking about Stephen Hawking and black holes and a lot of other things I haven’t heard Talia talk about in years. I’m not really part of the conversation anymore, just watching it happen. Meeting someone randomly at a salon after I butcher my hair definitely wasn’t part of the strategy, but Talia’s handling this like a pro.

And they’re really talking now. Talia’s whole body is turned toward them, and Rose is waving their hands about whatever subject they’re on, but my ears are fuzzing out. It feels like I’ve stopped existing to both of them.

I’m being so petty. I should be happy for Talia. The strategy is working. She’s having a meet-cute right in front of me. Her phone is out, and so is Rose’s, and they’re exchanging social media handles.

I take a few deep breaths. This is fine. I’m going to find my person, too. It’s not a bad thing that it’s taking me a little longer.

“You ready, kiddo?” A new voice shakes me out of my anxiety spiral. The man in the chair—Rose’s dad, I guess—is standing there. Rose says goodbye to both of us.

“I’ll DM you later,” they say, giving Talia finger guns.

Talia laughs. “Sounds good!”

“Hayley?”

I look over and the hairstylist smiles at me. “I heard you have a haircut you’d like touched up.”

“Yes! Yeah.” I stand up and follow her to the chair. Talia just got contact info for a cutie. That’s fine. It’s good! The strategy is working.

It’s totally fine.

When the stylist finishes, she spins me around to look in the mirror.

“What do you think?”

My jaw drops. “Wow!”

I don’t know what magic she worked, but the fluffy mess on my head has been transformed into a sleek, short pixie cut, blonder now that everything is properly layered and trimmed. It’s not what I was going for when I picked up the scissors last night—it’s better. My cheekbones pop. I look older, like the cool, confident college girls I’ve seen striding through the University District. I turn my head side to side.

“This is amazing!” I run my hands over the back of it. My hair feels so soft. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re so welcome.” She smiles at me.

As we leave the salon, I skip ahead of Talia. The breeze ruffles my hair, and I can feel every little change in air pressure as it does. There’s no hair lying heavy down my back, sticking to my neck. I feel so light and free.

“You look so good,” Talia says, watching me.

“I know, right?” I twirl around in the middle of the sidewalk, almost bumping into some business dude in a suit who ducks, glaring at me. Talia and I speedwalk away, giggling.

“So, um . . .” Talia pulls out her phone. “Rose DM’d me.”

“Oh!” It all comes back in a rush. I was so caught up in the excitement about my hair that I forgot about Talia’s success. “You got their social?”

Talia looks at me funny. “You saw me do that.”

Yes. Yes, I did. In the middle of my spiral.

“Ugh, sorry. I kinda zoned out.”

“It’s all good.” Talia shows me the DM. “Did I do OK?”

I look at the message from Rose: it was so fun talking to you! what was that book you mentioned?

Talia replied with a link to the book and then said: Same! What are your plans the rest of the week?

“That seems like a good follow-up!” I squeeze her arm. “You did it. You got someone’s social. How does it feel?”

She blushes. “I don’t know. It’s cool? They seem sweet. And we have things in common, which is nice.”

“See?” I nudge her. “I knew you’d find someone cool.” The petty feeling is gone, and it’s a relief. I’m happy for Talia. And maybe with this cool new haircut, I’ll meet someone, too.

“I guess.” She looks down at her phone again, at the DM, and a small smile curls the corners of her lips. “You wanna get food?”

“Always.”