The Buzz in the Alley

In Harristown, the safest place for messy hair was the alley behind the corner shop.

Jackie—Jack—sat on a milk crate, bangs in her eyes, shark teeth tapping her collarbone. Her long black hair hung down her back like a cape. She scrolled her phone with one thumb.

Ollie paced. His sandy hair bounced like a scared puppy.

“No, no, we like our hair!” he squeaked.

Remi shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s just trimming.”

Mike pointed across the street at the girls’ salon window. “That’s not trimming. That’s clippers.”

Jacob swallowed. “If those devils get near my head, I’m gonna die from the baldness.”

Carson peeked around the brick wall. “Door’s open.”

Jack turned her screen.

On the salon page: a photo of shiny clippers. Text: CLIP‑CLACK DARES. TOMORROW.

From inside, a buzz started up—brrrzzzt—like an angry bee coming closer

The Puddle Rule

The buzz grew louder—brrrzzzt—then the salon door banged.

“Move!” Jack hissed.

Ollie bolted first, hoodie strings flapping. Remi, Mike, Jacob, and Carson sprinted after her, sneakers slapping the sidewalk.

Jack yanked open the laundromat door across the street. Warm air and detergent smell hit her face.

A smart woman with short hair looked up from folding towels.

“No running,” she said, planting a basket in front of the door like a goalie. “You kids trying to break your necks or your hair?”

Ollie panted. “We’re fine. We’re… exercising.”

The woman squinted at his shaggy head. “Uh-huh. The salon girls dropped off a ‘tomorrow list’ for school. Clip‑Clack Dares. Your names are on it.”

Mike squeaked, “They have a list?”

The door chimed again.

A girl in a black smock stepped in, holding cordless clippers like a TV remote.

“Hey, monkeys,” she said sweetly. “Off first. Just a tiny test.”

Ollie backed into a rolling laundry cart. It slammed a mop bucket. Soapy water whooshed out, spreading fast.

“Feet!” Jack snapped.

The clippers clicked on—bzzzt—right as Ollie’s shoe slid