The Evil Hairdo (2 page)

C
lutching the money, I ran down the street and across the main road to the new salon. I took a long, long look at the poster in the window, buzzing with excitement, and then I pushed the door open.

The place was like something out of Mum’s magazines. It wasn’t that big, but it was really stylish, with huge mirrors, and everything was in wood and metal and curved plastic. There was one chair, which looked like it belonged on television. It 
had black leather and steel handles for raising and lowering and turning it. There were bottles of
WitchCraft
shampoo and conditioner and other stuff laid neatly on shelves. And in frames on the walls there were posters of the girls from the band, looking like goddesses in the hippest gear. 

‘What a beautiful little girl!’ a voice purred, making me look towards the back of the shop.

There by a door stood a woman who seemed made of wood and plastic and leather herself. She was lovely, but very thin, and very, very pale. She had white skin, light blonde hair and pale green eyes. The leather trousers, the black silk shirt with very big cuffs and the fabulously pointy shoes (also black) made her look even paler and thinner. I fingered the coins in my pocket and looked around me, suddenly feeling a bit awkward.

‘And what can I do for you, young miss?’ she asked, gazing right into my eyes.

‘I … I’d like the, y’know … the …’ I couldn’t seem to get the words out.

‘You’d like the
WitchCraft
hair,’ she finished for
me.

‘Yes,’ I hung my head, feeling a bit silly about being shy. I’m not normally a shy person.

‘Take a seat.’ The pale lady waved towards the chair. ‘My name is Gail …and I am your stylist.’

A shiver ran down my back as she said that. I’d never had a
stylist
before. Mum always took me to the hairdressers. And now I was in an Official
WitchCraft
Salon! This was just
so
cool! I climbed up on the chair and Gail tied up that smock they use to keep the hair off your clothes. She raised the chair so I could see myself in the mirror.

‘Let us begin,’ she cried, as she spun the chair around and gently tilted my head back over the sink.

I closed my eyes while she washed my hair, but it didn’t feel like a normal hair wash. First it fizzed, then it itched, then she rinsed it off and washed it again. This time it felt a bit like there were worms in my hair and I was starting to get a bit scared. But just before I started to cry, she rubbed my hair in a towel and moved me so I faced the mirror. My hair
was a tangled mess, but even though it was wet, I could see that instead of my usual brown, it was black with a green tinge to it. My heart gave a little flutter.

‘I shouldn’t really tell you this,’ Gail whispered, as she leaned close to my ear. ‘But before they became big and famous,
WitchCraft
were just cool, good-looking girls like you. They were smart though. They knew that when you’ve got all the
right gear, and you’ve got the right look, you’re already on your way to being a superstar! So let’s see if we can make a star out of
you
!’

I giggled like a little kid and nodded excitedly.

She carefully combed my hair out and parted it. Then she took her scissors from a plastic jar on the counter. Once the scissors started moving, they did not stop. Even when she held them away from my head, they kept clicking as if they had a life of their own. Then they would swoop back in again like an attacking bird and I would hear them close to my ears, nipping hair and tapping against the comb. This went on for some time before the clicking suddenly stopped. She washed my hair again and then she picked up the hairdryer. When she had finished drying and had brushed away the stray hairs, Gail stepped back.

‘Well, what do you think?’ she said, holding up a mirror and showing me the back.

‘Wow,’ was all I could manage.

She had done it. I had
WitchCraft
hair.

‘Wow,’ I said again. I touched it just to be sure it
was mine. It was.

‘Your hair was perfect for the style,’ she smiled. ‘I was really able to give some
life
to this one. I think you look gorgeous. You should be on MTV.’

I grinned giddily. Handing her the money, I thanked her and ran out of the salon. I was just
dying
to show my friends.

As I hurried away, I glanced back once and saw Gail watching me. She had a funny look on her face – as if she had won a game or something. And she was staring at me. I didn’t give it much thought at
the time. I was too happy to notice anything was wrong.

After the salon, I went straight to Kelly’s house, smiling like a complete ninny the whole way. Kelly was my best friend. We’d known each other since we were babies. We were always around at each other’s houses, talking about our favourite bands, like
WitchCraft
, or what we were going to be when we were older, or having a good moan about the
boys
in our class. She was like a friend, a sister and a fashion guru all rolled into one, and she was my favourite person in the whole world.

I rang the bell, and Kelly opened the door. Her eyes went really wide and she put her hands to her cheeks and screamed. She does the same thing when she’s watching horror films, but this time she was just excited – and jealous, of course.

‘OH MY GOD!’ she shrieked. ‘Oh my God. I am
so
jealous!’

I smiled even wider, and gave her a little twirl.

‘You
have
to get yours done now,’ I said to her.

We always wore our hair the same.

We hugged and went straight up to her room, where she made me stand in front of the mirror, so we could see ourselves together. Her blonde hair looked really ordinary next to mine. I couldn’t wait for her to get it done too.

I ran my fingers through my new hair, and I was sure it tingled slightly.

‘It’s beautiful,’ she moaned, touching my hair gently. Her fingers caught in it, and she carefully pulled them free.

‘Tangles easily, doesn’t it?’ she said.

‘No,’ I said, frowning. ‘You just need to be more careful.’

She gave me a sharp look, but then smiled and stroked it again.

‘It’s lovely. But how did you … I mean, I thought your mum wouldn’t let you get it?’

‘She doesn’t know,’ I said. ‘I got it done at this cool new place. You should see it. They’ve loads of
WitchCraft
stuff there! And I paid for the whole thing myself.’

Kelly frowned. She knows me too well.

‘With whose money?’ she asked.

‘Wayne’s,’ I said.

‘You owe Wayne
money
?’ She looked into my eyes, and then she took my hands, shaking her head. ‘Oh, Melanie, what have you done?’

When I got home, I decided to make a big entrance. So I rang the front doorbell instead of going round to the back. Mum opened the door and put her hand to her heart.

‘Melanie, what’s happened to your hair?’

‘It’s, like, the new look, Mum!’

‘It’s new, I’ll give you that. Where did you get this … this look?’ she asked.

‘At the salon down the road. I paid for it out of
my own money.’

‘I haven’t noticed any salon down the road. Wayne, come and look at what your sister’s done to her hair. Did you know she was going to do this? And since when have you been able to save money, young lady? Well, I suppose it’s lovely, dear – it’s just a bit
green
for my taste, that’s all. Your lunch is “like”, on the table. Go in and sit down.’

Dad got home at around six. He took one look at my hair, shook his head and sat down to watch the news. Dad leaves decisions about our hair and clothes up to Mum, because he’s hopeless with stuff like that. All in all, my parents were pretty cool about the whole thing … but then that was before all the trouble started.

I
t was the middle of the summer holidays, so I had no school the next day. I got up early and hurried into the bathroom to comb my new hair. I stopped suddenly when I saw myself in the mirror. My hair was perfect, loose and clean as if it had only just been styled. I had slept through the night and it had not budged. There wasn’t a hair out of place. I frowned, but then shrugged and smiled. I was in the middle of brushing my teeth when Wayne peeked in the door.

‘Hurry up!’ he whispered. ‘We start operations in ten minutes.’

Toothpaste caught in my throat and I coughed, spattering it all over the mirror. I’d forgotten about Wayne and the motorbike.

I got dressed and went and found him in his
room. He was wearing his rollerblade pads, his helmet and a pair of sunglasses. I was going to point out that he looked like an idiot, but I bit my tongue. I still owed him fifteen euros.

Dad had left for work, so he’d be gone all day. Mum was taking a bath, so we had about two hours, and she wouldn’t hear a thing over the whale music she listened to as she soaked. Wayne put his finger to his lips and waved at me to follow him as he sneaked down the stairs. I sighed and walked after him.

Dad kept the motorbike in the garage, and there was a door that went through to the garage from the kitchen. He kept the garage key in the fuse box over the door. It was much higher than Wayne or I could reach, and we were never, ever, ever
supposed to go near the fuse box, because we might get electrocuted, which Dad said would really hurt. And then it would kill us.

That was a good enough reason for me, but nothing was going to stop Wayne. He grabbed a chair and carried it over to the door.

‘Hold the chair steady,’ he whispered and climbed up onto the seat.

That was easy for him to say. While he tried to clamber up onto the back of the chair, I leaned all my weight on it to hold it still. I thought I should remind him about the dangers of messing with electricity.

‘If you get electrocuted,’ I asked him, ‘can I have your CD player?’

‘No,’ he retorted.

Wayne was able to hoist himself just high enough to open up the fuse box, but he couldn’t reach inside. Holding onto the door ledge with one hand, he lifted himself up like a monkey, so that his feet were dangling above the chair. I had to admit, when my little brother wanted something, he really went for it. I wished I could be more like that.

Reaching in with his other hand, he fumbled around for the key. I watched, amazed, as he held on just long enough to grab the key before he dropped back onto the seat and fell off, tumbling against the pots’ cupboard with a crash. We both froze, listening for any sound upstairs … but only the mewing of whales and the warbling of panpipe music drifted down. Mum did not come out. Wayne picked himself off the floor and I moved the chair away from the door. He unlocked the door and opened it. There, standing in the middle of the garage, was the motorbike.

Wayne looked at me with a big silly smile on his face.

Seizing the bike keys from the drawer in the workbench, he rushed across to it, and climbed onto the saddle. It was up on its stand, leaning on its back wheel, but when he jumped on it, it tilted forwards onto the front wheel. Wayne wanted to start it up and watch the back wheel spin round. This was just the most exciting thing ever for him.
You can see why he’s such an embarrassment. And we go to the
same school
.

‘Right,’ he said. ‘I’m switching it on. I want you to kick-start it.’

‘No way,’ I retorted. ‘That thing’ll take my leg off.’

‘Don’t be stupid!’ he hissed. ‘And you promised, remember?’

He couldn’t kick-start it himself, because he was only eight, and he was short even for an eight-year-old. So his stunted little legs could not
reach the foot-rests. He had to stay up on the saddle to keep the bike leaning forward, so the back wheel stayed off the ground.

‘The sooner you get proper-sized legs, the better,’ I muttered.

Even with fantastic-looking hair there was only so much I could take of Wayne bossing me around. I leaned against the saddle, lifted my foot and stamped down on the kick-start pedal. It gave a grunt and I jumped away in fright.

‘Harder!’ he snapped. ‘Give it some welly!’

I was going to answer him back, but I just put all my anger into my foot instead, and whacked it down on the kick-starter. The engine boomed into life, sounding really loud in our small garage. Wayne gave a whoop, and I winced, hoping Mum wouldn’t hear all the noise. He twisted the handle, revving the engine, looking out the window of the door to the back garden, pretending he was out on the road. Smoke poured out of the exhaust, and I had to go and open the wide back door to let some air in. I walked back to watch the rear wheel whizz around.
Wayne actually made engine sounds himself, while the real one roared beneath him. He’s that stupid.

After about ten seconds of this, I was bored. The adventure was over, and I wanted to go and hang out with Kelly. Over the noise of the engine, I thought I heard someone talking behind me. I looked round, but there was nobody there. The fringe of my hair fell across my eyes, and I brushed it aside.

I was walking around the back of the bike towards the kitchen, when my hair suddenly fell in front of my eyes again. I tripped on a toolbox lying on the floor and fell headlong towards the spinning motorbike wheel. I caught the back of the bike just before I got a zooming tyre full in the face. But as I leaned against the bike, it hopped forward on its stand, the back wheel touched the ground, and the whole thing took off like a bat out of hell – with my little runt of a brother on the back of it.

It tore out the door, wobbled across the garden, before ploughing along a flowerbed and crashing into the bushes against the back wall. I only
discovered all this after I had taken my hands down from my eyes. There was no way I could watch.

I ran out the door, and for a second, I thought Wayne must be dead. My face seemed to twist up all on its own, and I started to ball my eyes out. I mean, he was a pain, and everything, but he was my brother – the only one I had (unless Mum and Dad came up with a new one) and …

He was alive! I stopped and stood there, feeling sick and cold, but really relieved. The bike looked in bad shape, and Wayne looked worse, crawling out of the bushes, trembling in shock. He was scratched all over, and I bet he
was going to be really bruised. But he was alive, and he was walking. Well, crawling anyway.

The garden was totalled. Mum was serious about her garden; she won competitions at the flower show. She wouldn’t be winning anything this year.

‘What was that noise?’ Mum called from the bathroom window.

Wayne and I glanced at each other, knowing that we only had seconds before Mum reached the back door. In a fit of blind panic, I sprinted out to the front garden, and down the street.

I hid in the park for the hour it was going to take Mum to regain her sanity. Wayne was in real trouble … and I would be too if she found out. I hoped he wasn’t badly hurt. Please, I thought, please let him be all right. I’d heard about how people could hit their heads and be fine for days and then they’d suddenly fall over dead. I’d never forgive myself if that happened. I felt really guilty about messing things up – if only my hair hadn’t fallen in front of my eyes like that. I sniffed back some tears as I imagined facing Mum. She’d be angry at the fact that we had crashed the motorbike, but angrier that I hadn’t owned up. I sat and watched the ducks, and waited it out.