The Wildest Heads in Harristown

Harristown was not like other towns.

Sure, it had streets and shops and a bakery that smelled like cinnamon on Tuesdays. But Harristown had one thing most towns didn't — a whole crew of kids whose hair had gone completely, wonderfully, spectacularly wild.

Jackie sat on the bench outside Remi's house, her long black hair blowing into her face. She didn't fix it. She never did. The red streaks in her hair glinted in the sun, and her shark-tooth necklace swung forward as she leaned back with her arms crossed.

"Looking like a mop again, Jack," said Carson, grinning. His own blond hair fizzed out in every direction like something had startled it.

"You look like a dandelion," Jackie shot back, flashing her gap-toothed smile.

Ollie said nothing. He couldn't. His sandy hair had flopped so far over his face he was basically just a hoodie with feet.

Down the street, four people stood watching.

Four Pairs of Eyes on a Wednesday

Down the street, four people stood watching.

There was Greta, who wore her scissors on a lanyard like a medal. Beside her stood Priya, who kept a tiny spray bottle clipped to her belt loop at all times. Then came Dev, the only boy of the four, who had a habit of cracking his knuckles before he said anything important. And finally there was Bea — small, quiet, and carrying a professional-grade clipper that buzzed even when it wasn't on.

Nobody noticed them yet.

Ollie was mid-sentence about a lizard he'd found when Bea stepped forward and switched the clipper on.

BZZZZZZZT.

Every single head snapped around.

The sound hit Ollie first. His face went the color of old chalk. Then Remi grabbed Mike's sleeve. Jacob actually knocked Carson's juice box out of his hand.

"Oh no," Jackie breathed.

She wasn't scared. She definitely wasn't scared.

She just had somewhere to be.

"RUN!" she screamed anyway, and all six of them bolted in six completely different directions like startled pigeons, hair flying wild behind them.