Flattop High by Ben Aldy

---

My father opened the door, and I stepped into Jackson’s Barbershop. And into my new life.

—-

My mother died when I was two, hit by a drunk driver. And for as long as I can remember, it’s only ever been my father and me. We’ve moved every few years, as most military families must.

Now that I am 14 and about to begin high school, my dad decided we should put down roots for awhile. That is what has brought us here, and to civilian life.

My grandfather had been a barber, and he had taught my dad to cut hair when he was in high school. So when my dad finished high school and enlisted, it made sense that he would become a military barber.

In Plano, he had found Jackson’s Barbershop, for sale by owner, and bought it. On this Friday morning, I stepped into the shop for the first time.

A bell on the door rang as it closed behind us. The old barber, sitting in the shop’s only barber chair, looked up from his newspaper and smiled.

I could see why my father had fallen in love with this place. It was perfect, like the barbershop from a movie, but better. It smelled authentic.

"Norwood, how are you?" the old barber said, as he rose slowly from the chair and took down something from a hook on the wall behind him. "I’ve got the shop key right here for you." He reached to shake my dad’s hand and then gave him the key. "I’ll just lock the door behind me when I leave today, and then tomorrow the shop will be all yours."

Mr. Jackson, in his white barber’s coat, looked down at me and smiled. "And who is this that you’ve got with you?"

My dad turned to me and said, "This is my boy Josh." I smiled back at Mr. Jackson, as he studied me.

"Well, Josh, it’s nice to meet you. I see it’s been a while since you’ve had a good haircut. My chair is open if you want to hop up and be one of my last customers."

It had been a month since my dad last cut my hair, which now hung over my ears and touched my collar. I cleared my bangs from sight with a quick flip of my head.

Mr. Jackson continued, "With a good head of hair like that you’re going to look great in a flattop. What do you say?"

I shuttered at how quickly the conversation turned to my needing a haircut, a flattop! My dad is an expert at military cuts, but he has never tried to force such on me—maybe because he lost most of his hair to male pattern baldness in his twenties. (Since I was about ten, he has let me buzz the little hair remaining he has on the sides and back of his head with the 1-1/2 blade of his trusty Oster 76s, which I still really enjoy doing. I think he looks really cool.)

My dad kindly interrupts and says, "We’re actually on the way to meet the guidance counselor at Plano High to get Josh signed up for classes. He does need a haircut, but it will have to wait."

With that we exchange our goodbyes and head to the high school.

—

"And that about wraps it up," says my new guidance counselor, Ms. Rette. "Any questions about your schedule, Josh?"

"I don’t think so."

"Well there probably is one more thing I should tell you." She pauses, clears her throat, and continues in a lower voice. "The boys at Plano High School... they all wear flattop haircuts."

What?! My head shakes in confusion I had what I had just heard. I look up at my dad. He looks back at me without saying a word. But I can tell from his look that he already knows.

"About 10 years ago," she continues, "the former principal’s son Billy, who was very popular, wore a flattop. At the beginning of his senior year, he was tragically killed in a car accident by a drunk driver. The boys in the senior class got together and decided that as a tribute to Billy they would all come to the funeral in flattops. I’m sure they probably got them cut at the shop your dad has just bought. Anyway, when they started to grow out their hair it was time for school photos. So rather than look sloppy, they got them cut again. Then again for Thanksgiving, and then for Christmas. By this time, the boys in the 9th-11th grades had decided to join in, and it became a school spirit thing: The Plano Flattops. To this day, every boy at the school has worn a classic flattop."

This is crazy. I must be dreaming. This is a nightmare. Wake up, Josh.

"Now you don’t have to get your haircut. You won’t find any school rule requiring it. But I just wanted you to know, so when you show up on Monday and meet your new friends that you wouldn’t be too surprised. It’s a shock for most new students, but you will quickly get used to it."

To be continued...

---