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I offer a comforting smile, and rub my hand down her arm, feeling settled in my decision.
“Mine is.”
She gasps, as do the others crowding around us.
Am I that obvious about my hair?
“I’m going to cut mine. You only need to enjoy the party, okay?”
I give her a quick hug before standing and walking to the salon chair to sit. I refuse to look at anyone because they’ll see my nerves making me tremble. My eyes are wide, and my chest is burning.
It’s ridiculous, I know, but I can’t help it.
I wipe my clammy hands against my thighs, sit back, and force a smile as I glance at the hairstylist through the mirror.
“Let’s do this.”
Her brows turn down, and her hesitation is making me nauseous.
“Honey, this is a lot of hair you’ve got. Are you sure about this? Most girls with hair this long have it this way for a reason.
I guess women really treat their hairstylists like therapists.
I press my lips together before reaching my hand back to Jake. “Drink, please.” My voice is too quiet because my throat feels like sandpaper, and I lick my dry tongue over my lips.
Without meeting his gaze, he hands me the plastic cup and squeezes my shoulder. I roll my eyes because I don’t have to look at him to know he has that ridiculous smug smirk plastered on his lips. The women going to mush around me tell me as much.
“She won’t do it,” Nora speaks up, tapping her pointed heel against the floor.
“I almost forgot you were here,” I fight back.
“Doesn’t matter. You still won’t do it.”
She’s goading me.
I know it.
She’s not smiling, but her eyes are. I shouldn’t fall for it. I should keep my mouth shut, but my nerves have gotten the better of me.
“Will too,” I retort childishly before gulping on the fruity liquid and wishing there was something stronger in there.
“You can do it, Claire,” the children chant.
Great.
No pressure.
“Hey, Hannah,” I call, noticing her tears have dried. “I need someone to hold my hand.”
Her face lights up, and she skips to my side.
There are far too many eyes on me, and my cheeks are burning. Even when Natalie wraps a black cape around my neck, she is constantly eyeing me like I’m about to run for the hills.
I swear my leg twitches a few times because my body is screaming at me not to do it.
After Natalie measures the amount of hair she needs, she glances back at me and smiles. “It won’t be that short.”
I’m going to be sick.
