Oh my god, Ieni thought as she sat nearly motionless in the barber’s chair, I ******** hate small talk. Why can’t these people just be quiet?

Screaming inside her heart, she nevertheless managed a light, mechanical laugh in response to the hair stylist’s awful jokes. Even if she wasn’t actively trying to escape because OMGPEOPLE, the girl still found herself wondering why she’d signed herself up for what was effectively mental torture. She hated so much to be touched. And as she felt the gentle vibrations of the clippers, she remembered why she was doing this.

Oh. Yes. Right. Because I wanted to try something different after nearly twenty years of my hair never changing. Because I just had to try looking cute. ******** her eyes, she took a deep breath and reminded herself again that this would be worth it ultimately. And that if she could get through this, tomorrow’s task would be even easier. And really, it was just a haircut, right? Everyone got haircuts!

Well, unless they were naturally bald or someone like Crystal Gale. And what was she even thinking about some old, weird and probably long dead entertainer?!? Oh. Right. Because she’d signed herself up for self torture and she was nearing the end of her ability to cope with people and inane chatter. Okay. What else could she think about to distract herself? Not how the clippers felt, even thought it was nice and weirdly freeing. Her parents’ reaction to the new her? Yeah, all right. THat had some serious distraction potential.

Her dad would probably just smile and shake his head since he liked it whenever she did anything that resembled coming out of her shell. Or he was just a really good actor. Her mom would throw a fit though. She’d enjoyed Ieni’s long hair and getting to style it whenever the girl had been in an amiable enough mood. No, her mother would not enjoy seeing her daughter coming home with a large chunk of hair missing and what was left being styled into a shark-fin like crest.

It could be so much worse though, Mom! She thought. I could be coming home with face tattoos.

Maybe she could use that as an argument. Sure, she had a mohawk, but at least she wasn’t coming home with tattoos! It might work and she was willing enough to tuck the thought away for later.

Ieni let out another brittle laugh and answered the stylist’s question about school. And that presented another set of reactions she’d have to worry about. Not that she really thought anyone in her classes would say anything beyond, “Oh hey, new hair, huh?”

She could deal with that.

She forced herself to keep still as she felt fingers running through what was left of her hair, styling and lifting it. Taking another deep breath, she tensed slightly as the chair began to spin around.

Staring at the reflection in the mirror, Ieni felt herself grinning without any reservation. Yeah, this would be worth any negative reactions she might face.