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Chapter 1:- It Began With a Hairdo
The head hairstylist walks away, and her apprenticing son begins unraveling the foil in my hair. He is no older than me, entering his teenage years.

My initial apprehensiveness about his ability to handle my hair does not fade as he works.

His hands are not clumsy, but neither are they experienced. I sit in silence, watching the mother in this family-operated shop trim a man's hair.

I don't pick up a magazine. It feels rude to read while someone is working. Nor would I want to be absorbed in a story while someone ran the risk of messing up my first highlights.

They are my treasured Christmas gift from Mother: she rarely made such indulgent offers, so the ones she did make were to be greatly appreciated.

"Jason!" calls the stylist.

The boy Jason finishes the foil he had been painting and tucks it into my hair, accidentally dripping hair dye into my bangs and onto my forehead.
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