The Town Where Scissors Were the Enemy

Harristown was not like other towns.

Most towns had rules about dogs on leashes, or noise after nine, or parking on the wrong side of the street. Harristown had all of those — but it also had an unspoken rule that every kid somehow knew in their bones: if your hair got too long, the hairdressers would come for you.

And the hairdressers of Harristown were always watching.

Jackie didn't care. Or at least, that's what she told everyone.

She walked down Maple Street with her long black hair flying behind her, red streak catching the afternoon sun, bangs flopping right over her eyes so she had to tilt her head just to see where she was going. Her shark-tooth necklace bounced against her chest.

Beside her, Ollie's hair was something extraordinary. It puffed sideways. It puffed up. Honestly, it puffed in directions that shouldn't have been possible.

"We look great," Ollie announced.

The Parrot Knows Everything

Ollie spotted the flyer first.

It was taped to the window of Curl Up & Slay, the hair salon on the corner of Maple and Sixth — the one with the hot-pink scissors painted on the door that made every kid in the group walk on the opposite side of the street.

"Don't look at it," Jackie said immediately.

Ollie looked at it.

"HARRISTOWN SCHOOL PHOTO DAY — THIS FRIDAY," he read out loud. "ALL STUDENTS MUST ARRIVE NEAT AND TIDY."

The silence was heavy.

Then, from inside the salon, a bright green parrot on a perch near the window screamed, "HAIRCUT TIME! HAIRCUT TIME!"

Everyone jumped three feet backward.

"That bird is working for them," Remi said, pointing accusingly.

The salon door swung open. A tall woman with natural coils piled high on her head leaned out, arms crossed and smiling like she had been waiting for exactly this moment.

"Friday," she said pleasantly. "All six of you."

"We like our hair!!" Carson yelled.

The woman just smiled wider. Behind her, the clippers buzzed on the counter.