“It’s like bangs.” I tried to cheer her up. “Sort of.”
“Except bangs are in your front hair, not the sides,” Margaret reminded me. Then she took a deep sigh, picked up the scissors, and cut off all the hair over her forehead.
Now the front half of her hair was all chopped off and the back half was long and straight and shiny.
“Not so good,” Margaret said, looking in the mirror.
“Not so good,” I agreed.
We looked at her not-so-good hair in the mirror for a really, really long time without saying anything, which is very hard for me. Then Margaret’s bottom lip began to shiver and her eyes filled up with tear-balls again.
She handed the scissors back to me, and then she closed her eyes and turned around.
“All of it?” I asked.
“All of it.”
So I did. Which is not exactly easy with those plastic art scissors, let me tell you. And just as I was finishing, the art teacher came in looking for us.
“Clementine!” she shouted. “What are you doing?”
