The Good Hair Family Sitcom

S2 E8.2: The Shady Side of Shadyside

Brayden's POV

The typical routine occurs around me as the last bell of the day rings. Students flood the halls like a tsunami, their chatter rippling through in sound waves. After getting my coat on my backpack packed, I stand in front of my closed locker, waiting for one of the faces walking by to be the right one. Minutes pass on, and although it's not the one I need, I am delighted to see Kelsey's face emerge beside me.

"Where's the jerk?" she asks.

"Somewhere," I respond dully. "Hopefully."

"I can't believe how mature you're being about this," she says. "If I were partnered with that guy, I would've punched his face in already."

I laugh at that. Kelsey's the kind of person who makes common threats of violence but would never actually act on them. She avoids stepping on worms when it rains. She would never lay a hand on a human being.

"I have to catch my bus," she says. "Tell me how it goes."

I nod, and she heads off, leaving me in the hallway. The bodies begin to drain out, and still there's no sign of Deion. He could've forgotten, but I don't have his phone number, so I can't message him to find out.

From the left end of the hallway, I spot Wyatt with his cluster of friends, all of them running down the corridor excitedly.

"How long do you think he'll last?" one of the boys shouts.

"I don't know, but we gotta take photos before he's down!" another replies.

I have no idea what that's about, but I don't care, and I don't have time. My bus is going to leave. And Deion's not here. I suppose it was credulous of me to think he would show up. I push myself off my locker and join the rest of the students exiting the building.

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Amber's POV

Andi and I are in the middle of binging Queer Eye when Hazel walks up to us with her little brown teddy bear.

"Hey," she says, "so I hear Uncle TJ is maybe donating some books, so that gave me the genius idea to donate this finally."

Andi's eyes immediately go sad. "You want to donate Snuggles? That bear was your favorite when you were little."

"It's creepy," Hazel states. "It's missing an eye, and the voice box is degrading."

She gives the bear's matted fur a squeeze in the stomach, and what comes out is not the sweet voice it used to have. Rather, it sounds like it's both underwater and in a blender as the voice cuts in and out, wavering in pitch, saying, "Let's be friends forever." It dips in pitch on the last word, only elevating how disturbing it sounds.

"Yeah, that's messed up," I say.

"So you agree," Hazel concludes.

Andi shakes her head. "I don't agree. This bear has so many memories. Don't you want to keep it to give to your kids one day?"

"If I hate my kids so much that I want to give them night terrors, I will do that."

"It can't be that bad," Andi responds.

"Sometimes the bear gets knocked, making it talk in the middle of the night without anyone going near it," Hazel says.

"You're being dramatic."

"I don't know," I join in. "I'd want to get rid of it."

"It has sentimental value!" Andi argues. She lets out a huff, saying, "I've got a sculpture to work on now, so goodbye."