Chapter 24

The next morning doesn’t go exactly as I’d planned. Turns out that Mom had made a haircut appointment for me.

I wish she would’ve reminded me. Sure, she put a reminder on my phone, marked it on the family calendar, and wrote a note on the fridge. But she didn’t remind me today until I woke up.

I text Billy, Everley, and Sarah to cancel the tree house plans.

“Going to get your ears lowered, AB?” Sarah jokes.

I’m in no mood for jokes. Getting a haircut is no laughing matter. Or, at least, it shouldn’t be.

Unfortunately, the place we go to doesn’t agree. It’s called Shearlock Combs. And yes, they’re trying to be funny with the name. Heavy on the trying part. They call the row of chairs where the stylists work “the hairport.”

And if that doesn’t make you groan, the hairstyles you can choose from have names like “Jack of all Fades,” “The Grateful Dreads,” and “You’re Unbeweavable.”

I usually choose the “Snip, Snip, Hooray” cut because it’s described as being just a trim. However, I always leave with a “Hair Jordan.” It’s a haircut so short you can actually see your brain thinking.

“I don’t think I really need a haircut,” I say to Dad when we get in the car.

“Bob, look me in the eyes and say that again,” Dad replies.

I pull the hair away from my eyes to look at him. But I don’t bother saying anything. He made his point.

Shearlock Combs has two main stylists—Anita Kurl and Julius Scissors. I don’t think those are their real names, but I’ve learned not to question it. Never make a person who works with scissors angry.

Dad is rather quiet on the drive over. He usually likes to talk with me in the car, but I can tell he’s thinking. He loves making puns about hair with Anita and Julius.

“We’re hair for our appointment, because you know what they say—hair today, gone tomorrow!” Dad jokes as we walk in. “Bob needs the haircut. I’m just here as the hair-a-parent.”

The silence gives me a chance to climb into the main chair. They call it “Hair Force One.” My dad chuckles every time he reads the sign.

“What are we going for today, Bob?” Anita asks.

“Make it like the time I tried out for the basketball team,” I say.

Anita looks confused.

“He didn’t make the cut,” Dad chimes in. “Hair-larious! But summer’s almost over and school’s going to start. It’s like I always say, all good things must comb to an end.”

As we all embrace the silence, Anita pulls out her scissors and comb. She sprays my hair with a water bottle that I’m pretty sure just came out of the freezer. After doing a full-body shiver, I brace myself for the combing.

Anita uses a combing technique that can only be described as ear-itating. (Now there’s a good pun!) Basically, she combs my hair straight down until she hits my ear. I think she’s hoping my ears will eventually fall off so she doesn’t have to cut around them anymore.

The haircut goes well after the combing part, and now I won’t need another one until high school.

Anita never asks if I like the haircut. I assume it’s because she can now see what I’m thinking.

The best part, though, is that I get to invite twenty-eight more people to church! Five of them come in for haircuts, while the other twenty-three stop me as I walk to the car to rub my fuzzy head. Not one of them says anything about the flagpole incident, so I count that as a double win!

On the drive home I text Billy, Everley, and Sarah and tell them to meet me at the big tree. As soon as we pull into the garage, I jump out of the car, grab a baseball hat, and head for the woods behind my house. I don’t think my friends will make fun of my new haircut, but better safe than sorry.

“Wow! I guess you won the race,” Everley says as soon as she sees me. “It looks like you took a major shortcut.”

Sarah laughs and adds, “Take off the hat, AB. We want to see that bee hairstyle.”

“Haha,” I say, taking off my hat. “I get it—a buzz cut.”

Everyone has a good laugh, including me. It’ll grow back, so I don’t mind a little joking. However, the laughs quickly stop when we reach the tree.

Hiissssssssssssss!

We all look up to see Triple-H in the middle of my tree house! I mean, Billy’s and my tree house.

“Throw your hat at him,” Sarah suggests.

“He’ll just put it on,” I say. “If it fits him, that is. I think his head is bigger than mine!”

“Everyone’s head is bigger than yours—now,” Everley jokes.

I don’t have a chance to reply because HHH starts climbing down the tree. We bolt back toward my house. The girls are obviously more scared than Billy and me because they beat us there by about two minutes.

“What are we going to do?” Billy asks, gasping for air.

“Maybe we should call Animal Control,” Everley suggests.

“What if we get all our friends to help?” I ask. “Maybe we can scare it away if there’s enough of us.”

We all pause to think. Then we do what kids do best—get on our phones. We text all our friends and tell them about the fearsome forest fiend. We also ask all of them to come to my house this evening after dinner. It’s time to get serious!

We should have been more clear in our texts. Several kids show up for dinner at my house. Mom quickly makes some sandwiches, then we’re ready for battle.

I start us off with a motivational speech like in the movies. “Okay, everyone. This beast is huge. It has teeth the size of steak knives. Its claws are fierce and fast. But if we stay together, there’s a better than fifty-fifty chance we’ll leave the woods victorious! Does anyone have any questions?”

“How much sunscreen does it take to cover your head now?” Jenny asks. “That haircut is so short!”

It’s probably good my friends are getting the jokes out of the way first. Because once we walk into those woods, I know it won’t be a laughing matter.