Owen part 4. by Chovanec

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Excuse my weak English, it's not my mother tongue. I'm describing a story I've heard.
My name is Zaan and in 1975 I was 14 years old. I've been going to lower school last year. My best friend's name is Owen, 16 years old, and a year ago he stepped up to a state weekly boarding school for poor and abandoned children.
My mother was taken to the hospital for about 2-3 weeks, my father is still on the road and I was temporarily placed by the authorities in a year-round boarding school at a lower level. Before I started, I got a prescribed hairstyle at Pablo's barber shop. There were 45 of us in the room and we were divided into 3 groups. All inmates had the same short haircut. My mother is still in the hospital and my father will come on Sunday and I will go home with him for a pass and see my mother in the hospital. I've been in boarding school for 10 days. On Saturday morning, I learned that at 16:00 we would all go to Pablo's barber shop. My roommates have really short hairstyles on the top of my head about 1/2 inch long and only 1/4 inch on the back. Then I learned that those of us in the year-round boarding school, according to the order of the new school principal, visit the barber shop every kind of Saturday.
We entered 3 groups of 15 students. I was last in the middle group. One of the students warned me that if I got a haircut, I would have to sweep the barber shop before I could leave. We walked to the barber shop for about an hour. The first group entered the barber shop and we had to stay still without moving. At short intervals, one trimmed student came out, taking their place in the shape. After about half an hour, our group entered the barber shop. The first student took his place without a word. After 2 minutes, the haircut went out in front of the barber shop and was replaced by another student. I thought for a moment but I was overheard when I heard a clap as if someone had been slapped on the cheek. The student thanked the barber for his haircut, jumped out of his chair and ran out into the street. I watched another student chased by a barber. When the barber finished his work and stripped the boy of the sail, he put his head forward. The barber slapped his shaved neck with his palm and said you were done. The student thanked him and ran to the barber shop. We all handed the white cards to the barber, only one student handed the black one. His white skin lit up as the barber put the scissors on his forehead and crossed the top of his head. When the barber turned off the scissors the student was hairless. He applied foam to his whole head and scraped it. His head was completely bare. I later learned that he had received a black card for delayed entry. I moved closer and closer to the barber's chair. The last slap on the neck and I sit obediently in the chair. The barber remembered me being with him with my father. When editing, I thought about when I would finally go home from this school. When the barber shaved my back and the sides of my head, I took reality and waited for him to take me off the sail. I put my head forward and the barber slapped my neck. Oops, thank you and I went to jump out of my chair, but the barber grabbed my shoulder and ordered me to lean back. I gritted my teeth hard so as not to scream. After the clap, I just thanked. I took a broom and began sweeping about 1/4 inch of bristles of hair of various colors. When I ran out in front of the barber shop and joined the shape of the barber shop, the last group entered. I noticed red fingerprints on the necks of my classmates.
We went back on the way back and the educators followed us in the car. We were at school in about 20 minutes. On Sunday, my father came for me and my mother and I went to the hospital. Her health was still serious. I knew I would have to stay in boarding school for even longer.

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