A girl going to an all boy's school? Alexa, "Alex" Abotts has few options when it comes to getting a decent education. She lives in a town so poor and tiny, it's often forgotten on maps. With a run down school and no teachers who care, Alex's only w...
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Jeffrey.
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Rachell
After the whole airport fiasco, I got the rest of my bags and headed into the city with a new appreciation for Greenville. At least everyone there cared for your physical wellbeing.
Strangely while that whole situation was going on, not one person passing by did anything! It was like everyone was in their own bubble. I walked by locals engrossed in their phones, ear buds on full blast as they tried their best to tune out the tourists, who all had cameras and selfie sticks out, strolling along causally at about the speed of a sloth.
I found a small spot beside a building to escape the continuous wave of people, pulling out my phone, praying I had service for once.
Congratulations, they weren't lying about you Verizon, you do work! The address of the hair salon I found was saved in my maps, and I followed the directions until I reached a grafitti caked brick building with a sign reading 'CUT' in sharp jet black letters. How creative. Apparently I had arrived at my destination. Unfazed, I pulled open the translucent door, stepping curiously inside.
"Good morning my dear!" A women with an electric blue bob at the counter greeted me with a wide toothy grin. Her long white manicured nails were typing furiously into her keyboard, "You're here for an appointment right?"
"Good morning, yup, Alexa Abbotts," I replied, smiling back at her. She seemed nice, plus her style was cool; really edgy and bold. It made me want to be more adventurous— oh who was I kidding? I'm already adventurous, I'm here to chop off most of my hair for goodness sake.
"Great, Jeffrey will be ready for you in a moment, so go ahead and take a seat!" I was slightly disappointed that she wouldn't be the one cutting my hair, it needed to be believable, but still decent looking. If I was going to look like a guy, I wanted to do it with style. My long hair had taken a while to grow, and my heart broke to think it would all be gone in a few minutes.
At least the color would be the same. Outside, under the sun, it was a light golden ash blonde, but inside it was dark chocolate brown infused with muted caramel highlights. People always ask if I dyed my hair in both settings. It made me feel like Tonks from Harry Potter. I loved it.
"Alexa Abbotts," a voice called from the back of the room. I walked down the small aisle and into the styling area. There were about ten spots, all occupied except for the one in the back left with a young black haired man standing next to it. I made my way over and greeted him.
"Hi, nice to meet you, I'm Alexa," I said as I sat down.
"Jeffrey, now what kind of style do you want?" His tone was cool and to the point. That made me nervous. What if he didn't do a good job?
"Um... well actually, here's the thing, I want it styled like a guy's. No, I want a guy hair cut— you know what, just cut it really short please," I choked out, suddenly nervous.
He stared at me as awkward silence ensured. "Please tell me you're not a lesbian, you're too pretty of a girl to be a lesbian," he said, huffing in annoyance, "These days everyone thinks they can just choose what gender they are. That's not how it works."
My mouth hung open. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Sir, I'm not a lesbian. And I think you're mixing up your terms. A lesbian is a woman who is attracted towards other women. Someone who is transgender is someone whose gender they were born with doesn't correspond with their personal gender identity. They are not the same things, please get your facts right. And this is America, people have the right to be who they want to be!"
He shrugged, "So? It doesn't matter, they're all sinners. They're gonna burn in hell."
Why do I even bother dealing with people who obviously didn't care? I clenched my fist, forcing myself to stay calm and not punch him in his ignorant face. Greenville wasn't known for it's diversity or tolerance, but at least people kept their offensive opinions to themselves!
"Excuse me, miss, is he bothering you?" the stylist next to us asked. The girl had long, beautiful curly black hair. She looked young, like she was still in college. She was frowning at Jeffrey, her eyes telling him give it a rest, "My name's Rachell, If you want, I can take you right here, I just finished."
"Hey you can't just take my client—" Jeffrey started to argue, but I cut him off, "I'd love to, thank you! Bye Jeffrey."
I hopped onto Rachell's seat, abandoning the sputtering Jeffrey who still thought he had done nothing wrong.
"So I overheard you talking, you said you wanted a guy hair style right?" She asked sweetly as Jeffrey gave her the evil eye.
I nodded, "Yes please, could you cut it so that I'll look like a guy when its done? But not too short, I don't think I could pull of a buzz cut."
"Totally. I'm thinking about a number 6 on the sides, scissors on top, and taper in the back."
Chucking at the confused look on my face, she explained, "Basically that means a side part where one side is cut shorter but still blends into the cut, and you can choose to which side to part it on to change it up. You can also put a little gel in it and slick it back. You have such strong, beautiful features, this cut would really bring them out. How does that sound?"
I grinned, "Bring it on!"
Thirty minutes later I walked out of CUT, hair fourteen inches shorter, feeling ten pounds lighter. For the first time, I could feel the light autumn breeze on the back of my neck. Rachell had done an incredible job. After taking off my makeup in the bathroom and changing into a grey lenin shirt, faded hunter shorts, tan boat shoes, and switching my backpack out for a navy blue duffel bag, I really did look like a boy. Not to toot my own horn, but if this was what Uriah was going to look like when he got older, I needed to start teaching him how to treat girls with respect. I did not want a repeat of douchebag.
I stopped by the side of the road, holding my hand out, feeling kind of stupid. This was how you hailed a taxi right? Thankfully, a cab did stop in front of me and I didn't make a fool out of myself.
I dropped off my bag and suitcase in the trunk and got into the passenger's side. It was time. "St. James Academy please."
A/N: I feel bad cause this chapter still isn't her at the school but I promise it will be next chapter (Also Rachell will be back wink wink she's important). I was going to gloss through her haircut, but one of my friends recently transitioned and many people (parents, friends, STRANGERS) are giving him so much hate and treating him with ignorance. I wanted to include this chapter to give people a glimpse of how quick others can be to judge and unleash their rude biases. A lot of times one must try to understand and get their facts right before forming these conceptions. Please keep your hearts open. <3
Dedication: @teraCANread because she's amazing and her comments make me smile! I'm so psyched to go read her short stories! Please go check out her wonderful work with me and let's just all have a ball!! :P
