“I can’t stop thinking about this,” I said, standing behind her.
She squeaked. “What?” I laid the towel around her shoulders, and she flinched before relaxing. “What are you doing?”
“I can’t let you go back to town looking like this. It would make an impression, but not what you’re going for, I don’t think.” I scratched my nails up her scalp and tugged on all the various lengths of roughly cut hair, trying to see what I was working with.
She shivered but didn’t comment. Goose bumps prickled up the back of her exposed neck. “Is it that bad?”
“It’s not great. Unless you’re feeling the mullet look.”
She snorted. “I could rock it.”
“Can I give you a little trim?” I asked her. “Not that you haven’t done a great job.” I held up two pieces with very different lengths.
She snorted. “In my defense, I only meant to give myself bangs.”
My eyebrows raised.
“Things got out of hand quickly. We don’t need to talk about it.”
Without thinking, I bent and kissed the top of her head. “It’s not that bad. I’m just going to even things out.”
She nodded, mouth slightly parted, eyes wide as she watched me in the small mirror. I combed through her hair as best I could. The wind and hat had done a number on it. She leaned forward, pulled a brush out of her bag, and handed it to me. Carefully, I ran the brush through her hair. When she moaned and closed her eyes, I ground my molars. I began to section off her hair and twist it out of the way as best as I could.
“Where did you learn to do this?” she asked once it was quiet for too long.
“I cut Ivy’s hair sometimes.”
“And who is Ivy again?” She tilted her head in confusion, and I almost cut her ear.
“Be still.”
“Sorry. That’s like telling the wind not to blow.”
“Ivy is my friend at Golden Sunset,” I explained. “She used to be my teacher.”
“Oh, Mrs. Flores!” She turned to look at me.
“Bee,” I growled. “You’re two seconds from losing more than hair.”
“Sorry. I usually just cut my own ends at home. When your hair is that long, it’s less noticeable if you have no idea what you’re doing. And less risk of serious bodily harm.”
“This is a big change for you.” Bee had always had hair down to her lower back as long as I’d known her. “All this because of a statue?”
“Yep. That and the realization that nobody in this town knows I exist,” she said in that same joking manner that didn’t feel like a joke at all. Hurt was hidden in her self-effacing jokes all night. “Like sixty-forty. Do you often cut Mrs. Flores’s hair?”
“Just when she asks.” I wasn’t thrilled the focus was back on me.
“You’ve kept in touch since school?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re going to make me drag this out of you, aren’t you?” When I didn’t answer, she sighed and went on. “Tell me about how you got to cutting Mrs. Flores’s hair. Seems like a big change from student-teacher.”
The scissors from the cabin weren’t meant for cutting hair, but they were much better than the pair she’d been using when I found her. I focused on cutting as I shared without giving too much away.
“She was my favorite teacher. She was there for me a lot in school, and we kept in contact. I like being around her. She sees me.” I cleared my throat. Bee was so open it was hard to guard against that. “I like being around there too. Older people have great stories and advice to share. When they’re behaving themselves, at least. Ned Fled is awfully surly.”
“At that age, can you blame him?” she asked.
