Snip, Snip Revenge
by
Medeia
Sharif
Contemporary
Young Adult Romance ~ Evernight Teen
With all her pretty hair gone, Tabby doesn’t believe she fits
the feminine role she’s auditioning for. Michael is still interested in her,
but he’s playing it cool. Heather has taken to bullying her online, which is
easier to do with Tabby’s ugly haircut. Tabby spearheads Operation Revenge,
which proves satisfying until all of her problems deepen. After messing up, she
sets to make things right.
Find Snip,
Snip Revenge here:
Excerpt:
A huge lump grows in my throat and I
swallow it with difficulty. Obviously, these men have nothing to do all day but
sit here and read their newspapers, so I’m up next. I’m frozen. My limbs won’t move.
“Come on now!” Dad says impatiently.
I don’t feel like fighting with him in
front of others. In snail-like fashion I glide to the salon chair. There’s a
large oval mirror in front of me and I stare at my reflection. I feel outside
myself, as if this is happening to someone else. Some other teenage girl with
long, pretty hair is getting her hair cut, not me. Raul asks me to lift my hair
and he places an apron around me. The black plastic unsettles me. Ever since
Dad parked his car, the whole atmosphere has been ominous.
Raul doesn’t even ask me what I want.
Dad is giving all the orders. He whispers something into Raul’s ear—I hear the
word lice loud and clear, though—and then he says, “Do the
fine job that you do on my hair.”
That fills me with dread. Dad’s hair is
short. I don’t want to look like him. Raul’s hands caress my hair, and then he
grabs all of it at the base, using his fingers as a ponytail holder, and cuts
it off in one swoop. My hair is at my shoulders and I surreally watch the rest
of my hair clutched in Raul’s hand as if it were the pelt of a dead animal.
Raul takes the hair to the back of the shop and throws it in a garbage can. My
long, beautiful curls are gone forever.
I stare at the mirror. My hair doesn’t
really look that bad. I look cute. It just needs to be evened out. Now that my
hair is shorter, Raul wets it with a spray bottle. I don’t think he shampoos
hair, furthering my suspicions that this is a men’s only place.
“Raul was voted fastest haircutter in
Miami-Dade,” Dad says. The local newspapers have these silly polls about
businesses, but I don’t recall reading about Raul among the articles about most
authentic Chinese restaurants and best diners for breakfast.
“Cut shorter,” Dad says.
“But not too short,” I say. “Just even
it out a little.”
“Shorter,” Dad says, louder than me,
letting Raul know he’s the paying customer, not me. Big deal, I could easily
pay for this haircut. I should’ve said so before we got in, because now Dad is
on one of his power trips, acting like he’s in charge.
Dad wasn’t kidding when he said Raul
cuts hair fast. Snip, snip, snip the scissors go, and my hair’s about four
inches long. “Stop!” I say.
“Go on,” Dad says. I see him at the edge
of the mirror, looking at his phone instead of paying attention to me. “Cut it
shorter.”
“You sure?” Raul asks. Raul, a complete
stranger, has sympathy in his eyes. My eyes meet his in the mirror. I also see
that I’m shaking with fury, fright, and sadness. Dad doesn’t know shit about
what I want. He makes this about him. He wants me to have short hair. But I’m a
girl, not a boy. And I belong in a salon, not a barbershop. Raul hesitates,
arms limp at his sides.
“Go on,” Dad urges. “You’re doing a
great job, Raul.”
I’m breathless. Will Raul choose Dad or
my sad, tear-filled self? He chooses Dad, raises his hands, and continues to
cut in his Speedy Gonzales manner.
“I need to get this call,” Dad says.
“No, wait for me…I’ll deal with the client…I’m almost done with a personal
matter...” In between talking to one his employees, Dad lifts his head to give
Raul more directions. “A little shorter.” My reflection becomes hazy…because
I’m crying. I can’t believe this is happening to me. This guy’s fingers are
relentless. The gleam of the scissors shimmer right and left, top and bottom.
“You’re shaking too much,” Raul says.
“Stop it, Tabby!” Dad orders. “You don’t
want to get cut. There’s no need to struggle. Just let’s get this out of the
way already. I don’t want to be late for a meeting.”
I want to jump out of the seat and run
out of here screaming. My hair looks ugly. I look like a boy.
Raul cuts some more. “Daddy!” I say, reverting to a little girl. I’m
remembering those times as a child when Dad hit my hand with a ruler or slapped
me across the face. I feel trapped by his cruelty and Raul’s quick hands.
Raul takes an electric razor and I feel
it graze the back of my neck. “No!” I say. “No, no, no.” I’m afraid that if I
move Raul will cut me, but maybe blood will be good for a time like this. I
want to die. My hair is grotesque.
I’m stunned by the way I look. My hair
is about two inches long, shaggy on top and much shorter on the bottom. What
the hell? The razor, comb, and scissors disappear to the side table where Raul
keeps his supplies. He takes a neck brush and glides it over my neck to brush
away stray hairs. Tears are dripping like bullets down my face. With my fugly
haircut and red face, I look monstrous. I’ve lost myself in a few short
minutes. I’m no longer me. Where is the pretty face and pretty hair?
Author Bio:
I’m a Kurdish-American
author who was born in New York City, and I presently call Miami my home. I
received my master’s degree in psychology from Florida Atlantic University.
After becoming a voracious reader in high school and a relentless writer
dabbling in many genres in college, I found my niche writing for young people.
Today I'm a MG and YA writer published through various presses. In addition to
being a writer, I'm a middle school English teacher. My memberships
include Mensa, ALAN, and SCBWI.
Giveaway:
$25 Amazon Gift Card
Wishing Medeia the best of luck! Snip Snip Revenge sounds SO good! Thanks for sharing. :)
ReplyDelete~Jess
Thank you for hosting me.
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