The Haircut Incident

Maya's brother Jay decided he was a stylist now. "I've been watching YouTube tutorials," he said, wielding kitchen scissors like a weapon.

Maya sat on a stool in their bathroom, staring at her reflection. Her hair — waist-length, two years of growing — draped over the chair like a dark curtain. Sophomore year started next week. Maybe new hair would match the new Maya she wanted to be. The one who didn't sit alone at lunch.

"Just a trim," Jay promised. "You'll look fresh."

Fresh. Maya hated that word. But she nodded. "Okay. Don't mess it up."

The first snip echoed weirdly loud. Then a second, third one that made Maya's stomach drop.

"Jay?"

"Whoops."

He held up a chunk of hair like evidence at a crime scene. "I may have gotten... carried away."

Maya twisted around. A jagged, uneven line hovered above her shoulder on the left side. The right side was still long. She looked like she'd lost a fight with a lawnmower.

"OH MY GOD."

"It's fine! We can fix it!"

"You're not a stylist, Jay! You're a menace!"

She stormed to her room, slammed the door, and flopped onto her bed. Her phone buzzed. Sasha, her lab partner, was having people over Friday. "u should come! btw cute boys will be there ;)"

Maya buried her face in her pillow. Cute boys. With this haircut?

She grabbed her laptop to look up damage-control tutorials. Nothing loaded. The Wi-Fi symbol showed that sad little exclamation mark.

She traced the cable from her laptop to the wall, then followed it behind her desk to where the main cable snaked through the floorboards. She crawled under the desk, cobwebs in her face, and found the problem: the cable had pulled halfway out of the router. She shoved it back in.

"Maya?" Jay's voice from the hallway. "I'm really sorry. I called Mom. She said she can take you to a salon tomorrow. They can fix it."

Maya sat up, bonking her head on the desk. "Ow."

"I just wanted to help you get ready for school. You've been so stressed about making friends this year."

"It's okay," Maya said slowly. Her phone screen still glowed with Sasha's message.

Cute boys. Whatever. Bull. Not the boys — the anxiety about them. The fear that one bad thing would ruin everything. Her hair would get fixed. She'd go to Sasha's thing. If people didn't like her because of a haircut, they weren't worth it anyway.

"Jay?"

"Yeah?"

"Wanna help me pick out what to wear Friday?"

The door cracked open. Jay looked relieved. "Yes. Absolutely. I have thoughts."

"Great. But stay away from me with scissors."

"Deal."

Maya touched the jagged ends of her hair. It was just hair. It would grow back. And she would too.