The kids at school make fun of my dress. And my no-shoes. I told Jeremiah on the playground. “Don’tcha ever wish we looked more like the other kids? Like, shoes, an my hair goes down to my butt!”
“Nah,” he said. “Shoes just cramp up your feet. But if you don’ like your hair, I guess we could cut it!”

I ran my fingers through my hair. It’s a lightish brown color, like dirt. Lillyann says, like caramel, but it’s dirt. “Okay. You got scissors or something?”

Opal, who’s from New Hope too, and Jeremiah’s age, came out with her purple-handled scissors. “I’ll do it,” she said. “Seeing as I’m a girl, and Jeremiah hasn’t the first idea how to cut hair.”

“Do too!” He yelled, but secretly, I was glad Opal was doin’ it. Snip, snip. My dirt-brown hair fell to the dirt. I reached up to touch it. “Not yet!” Opal screeched. “There’s still one more piece!”

Snnnnnip. “Done?” My fingers brushed my chin-length hair. “Awesome! Freakin’ awesome!”

“You like it?” Opal smiled huge.
“Yeah I like it!”
“Serious?”
”’s awesome!”