Act like a LADY, Think like a BOSS

Chapter 3: Boys are stupid

Picture of the gorgeous Savannah Callum (Dianna Agron) on the side! :)

“Erin, baby, you sure you want to go through with this?”

My mom warily brushed the hair out of my eyes and grimly smiled. “Trevor’s proud of you either way Erin.”

I avoided her intense gaze and looked straight into the mirror, “A boy cut please.”

My stylist and close family friend, Anna, did a double take, gawking her head in confusion. She lifted my long brown locks above my head and sighed, letting them slowly fall down like a waterfall.

“Erin, my dear,” she stressed in her thick English accent, “You have nice, soft, hair; one of the nicest I’ve ever styled. Are you positive you want to cut it all off.”

I raised my chin in defiance, “Anna, I appreciate your concern but I’m doing this for Trevor, please, just cut it all off.”

“I can do a pixie cut,” she persuaded, the delicate features on her faced looked pinched in worry. “You would look nice in a pixie cut or bob.”

I shook my head. “A boy cut please, short in the front and back. I want this to look as real as possible.”

Anna sighed while my mom choked back a sob, rubbing her fingers against her temples. “I’ll be outside,” she mumbled, walking out the door.

I turned back to the mirror as Anna took my soft locks and twisted them on top of my head, purposely letting some strands straggle down, framing my face. “Ah,” she stated wistfully, picking up the spray bottle. “I really wish you’d reconsider. Many many girls would die to have hair as nice as yours, its a shame you’re cutting it all off.”

“Its just hair, it’ll grow back,” I muttered scornfully, trying to convince myself.

Anna muttered something under her breath that I didn’t catch and lifted up the heavy metal scissors to the tips of my hair. 

“You know, a wig can work Erin. Your hair is thankfully not too thick. I can give you one that will match your skin tone. Please reconsider Erin, I’ve been cutting your hair since you were three, don’t make me do this.”

I stared down the girl in the glass, my eyes never once leaving the image. An image suddenly flashed by. Trevor sticking gum in my hair when we were seven. My hair getting caught in the ticket machine at Chuckie Cheese’s when I was ten. Tying it up for cross country races with my lucky ribbon. Curling it for school dances. My hair was special to me. Trevor’s words lingered in my head. ‘Don’t change Erin, don’t change.’ I suddenly remembered what I vowed as well, to never become a guy as stupid as it sounds.

“WAIT!” I bit my lip as the metal shears came dangerously close to my head. “On second thought, I’ll take the wig.”

I couldn’t bear cutting my hair, not one bit.

“Voila!” Anna whispered, pulling off the cloak and lowering my seat. “You look fierce Erin.”

Indeed I did. I looked in to the mirror, my shaking hands reaching up to run my now short hair in between my fingers. The wig made me look smaller, shorter. And ironically, stronger and fiercer. Without the long hair to obscure my dark eyes, I looked untouchable, someone you wouldn’t want to mess with. My face was more solemn looking and the grim expression I bared looked slightly masculine. I almost looked like a dude.

“Erin.” I turned around to find my mom, her eyes rimmed with red, with Savannah and Riley trailing in behind her. “Ready to go?” Her voice violently cracked.