"Say, you're rich," Sandy suggested.
Celeste paused. "Me?"
"Yeah, you've a job. You've money. Compared to penniless me, you're rich."
A smile grew on Celeste's face. "I guess I am." Snip, snip.
"You're my rich big sister."
Celeste chuckled. "That's an interesting thought." Snip, snip.
"My rich big sister can afford to buy gifts for me, the little sister she loves very much," Sandy suggested hopefully.
"What?" At the same time, there was the sound of a snip. That was followed by, "Oops."
(It was the one word no one wanted to hear from the person cutting her hair.)
"What? What?" Sandy asked anxiously.
"Ah... you like your hair short, don't you?" Celeste asked, "Easier to shampoo, you say."
"Yeah, but... how short?"
Celeste winced. "Um... barely long enough to reach your neck?" She poked Sandy in the back of the head to indicate the length of her roommate's hair.
"What?" Sandy turned to Celeste. "I'm going to look like a boy! And I already wear shorts to school!"
"I can leave the sides a little longer so you won't look too tomboyish," Celeste suggested.
"Do your best, please," Sandy pleaded.
Celeste brought her scissors up again. "Okay, but stay still and keep quiet or your hair may get even shorter."
(One should never argue with someone holding her hair hostage.)
Sandy obeyed and kept still while her roommate concentrated on fixing her hair. Since the bathroom mirror was mounted too high, she could not see how her haircut was progressing from her seated position. She was anxious about her look but she did not dare disturb Celeste, lest she ended up with a boy's hairstyle.
If that should happen, Juneida would probably tease her endlessly when she returned the next weekend. Sandy would probably have to wear a hat to school for the next few weeks.
"There, all done," Celeste announced finally.
Sandy immediately went to the mirror to have a look at her amateur hairstylist's handiwork. As Celeste said it would be, the sides were longer than the back. At first glance, it reminded her of the dangling straps of the leather cap an old-fashioned airplane pilot would wear. The straps -oops, no- the hair from her sides gradually shortened along her jawline to the short hair at the back so it looked presentable.
At least she appeared feminine.
Sandy shivered. She turned to Celeste. "Isn't it cold in here?"
Celeste too felt the chill. "Yeah, it is." She squeezed past Sandy to the radiator and touched it with the back of her hand. "Cold."
"Heater's not on?"
"Doesn't seem to be." Celeste put down the scissors and gripped her arms. "I'll go get it on. You clean up."
"Aw, you're leaving me all the work," Sandy grumbled.
"Sandy, it's your hair, and I was doing it for you," Celeste pointed out, "And if you'd rather talk to Momma Lois about the heater, be my guest."
"Well..." Sandy would rather not approach Momma Lois. She might be asked to do her homework or some chore, something much more tiresome than sweeping her hair off the bathroom floor. "Okay, I'll do it."
Sandy brushed the hair off the newspaper on her and took off the newspaper. Then she got herself a dustpan and a hand brush and started sweeping up the hair. Since she had noticed it, the room felt really cold. Her fingers were beginning to get numb. Her ears were covered by her hair but the back of her neck was not. She felt a gentle chill on the back of her neck.
It was Celeste's fault for cutting her hair that short!
As she was wrapping up the hair in the newspaper, Celeste appeared at the bathroom door. "Heater's broken," the ebony-skinned girl reported.
Sandy gasped. "What!?"
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