Westchester, New York
Jakkob's Salon
Saturday, February 28th
4:49 P.M.
"I refuse to go through this." Alicia said in her usual diva-like attitude.
Alicia was the only member of the Pretty Committee who wasn't tearing up at the moment. In the past three days, the Pretty Committee had been officially expelled from OCD and enrolled in Wallowa Boarding Academy for Girls. TPC had never felt so second-class in their life. At Wallowa, they would have to wear a uniform and they had a Dress Code for their hair. In fact, that was the reason they were at Jakkob's today. Every girl (with the exception of Kristen) would have to give in to Wallowa's insane Dress Code and cut their hair to above the shoulders (at least). That alone was enough to make Massie (and everyone else) run and hide in Wyoming for the rest of their lives.
Jakkob took each girl one by one, and the rest of the girls would stand by the salon chair, squeezing each other's hands and praying they weren't next. Dylan was first and probably the most emotional of the group. She started to sob the moment she was called over. The only comforting words anyone could think of were from Alicia: "It's okay, Dylan. People change their hair all the time. Plus, we're all doing it, too."
Dylan's hysterical sobs started to subside, and then Jakkob gathered Dylan's hair in a ponytail and started to snip. Dylan squeezed her eyes shut for the next twenty minutes, until Jakkob was done. Then she opened her eyes and actually began to smile. Soft ringlets framed her face and her usually dry hair was soft, shiny, and bouncy.
"I'll go next!" Claire piped up as she sat in the chair occupied by Dylan seconds ago.
Claire's hair took longer than expected. Jakkob added extensions to her super short bangs and cut her hair in a style similar to Massie's bob at the beginning of the year. When Claire got up from the chair, her slick-straight hair gleamed. An hour later, Massie left with an impossibly glossy chin-length bob and Alicia with a blunt-cut style that just hit her shoulders. Kristen had made a visit to Svetlana and left with (gasp) waxed eyebrows.
What the Pretty Committee perceived as disaster and torture turned out to be one of the best things that ever happened to them. As they loaded up in the Range Rover, a familiar voice shouted, "Claire? Massie? Dylan? Is that you?" Massie turned around so fast that her new short hair whipped her cheeks. It was Derrington. And the rest of the guys from Briarwood.