The Town That Hunts Hair

Harristown had one rule that every kid knew by heart: keep your hair neat, or the hairdressers would find you.

They always did.

Jackie kicked a pebble down the cracked footpath, her long black hair swinging behind her, red streaks catching the afternoon sun. Her skull earrings clinked. Her shark-tooth necklace bounced against her striped shirt. She squinted through her bangs — which she absolutely refused to trim — and grinned her gap-toothed grin.

"Oi, Ollie!" she called. "You've got a bird's nest on your head, mate."

Ollie spun around, yanking his enormous poof of tangled hair down like a hat. "Don't SAY that! Someone might hear you!"

Remi, Mike, Jacob, and Carson all flinched — every single one of them glancing nervously down the street.

The barbershop on the corner had its lights on.

"Just keep walking," Remi whispered. "Don't make eye contact with the sign."

Nobody argued.

The Parrot Knows Everything

Nobody breathed until the barbershop sign was four whole blocks behind them.

"We're safe," Carson announced.

"We're never safe," Ollie muttered, pulling his giant hair-cloud down over his ears again.

They ducked into the Harristown Weekend Market — a wide, loud, cheerful place packed with vegetable stalls and someone selling wind chimes made out of spoons. The plan was simple: hide in the crowd.

It was a terrible plan.

A large green parrot sitting on a perch outside one of the stalls suddenly screamed, "HAIRCUT! HAIRCUT! PRETTY BIRDS NEED TRIMS!"

Every head in the market turned.

And there — standing right behind the parrot's owner, holding proper black scissors and a bright yellow clipper — were four hairdressers. Three girls and one boy, all wearing matching striped aprons, all grinning like they'd won something.

"Oh wow," one of the girls said sweetly, tilting her head. "You lot look like you lost a fight with a lawnmower."

Ollie grabbed Jackie's sleeve.

The clipper buzzed once — just once — and all six kids went absolutely rigid.