"A Baldy Will Build Character Son" by Ethan Fox

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(Please leave any feedback you can think of! I’m really trying to elevate my skill and find the motivation I need to become a regular writer here. I appreciate everyone who takes the time from their day to read my story.)

Most sixteen year old boys wouldn’t be biking into town at a quarter after five, but after looking at my watch, seeing the time, and realizing that my usual chain salon was closed, I didn’t find myself having another choice. I looked back up from my watch just to be greeted by my overgrown bangs blowing into my face and covering my eyes courtesy of the mid-April breeze. I took my Dodgers baseball cap off and ran a hand through my hair to push it back, putting the cap back on to keep my hair from obscuring my vision.

My hair… That's what had me biking into town in the first place, hoping that I could find a salon or barber shop open in the evening. When I got home from school just a few hours ago, I was met by my father in the living room. He took one look at my hair before yelling above the sound of the television, "Bradley, don’t you think it's time you go out and get it cut?"

I tried to hold back a sigh as I walked around past the living room to put down my backpack on a kitchen chair. I returned and nodded at my Dad, knowing very well that it wasn’t a question for me to answer, "I’ll go this weekend," I smiled, thinking that would be the end of it. I turned to go upstairs, seeing that my Dad returned his attention to the television, and made my way to my room.

When I got into my room, I looked in the mirror. I didn’t want to admit it, but my Dad did have a point. My blonde hair was bordering on unruly. My bangs were starting to cover my eyes, my ears were halfway gone, and if I shifted my head slightly I could see for myself that my hair was all the way to the collar. ‘Wow it got long,’ I thought, chuckling. When was the last time I even had a cut? Maybe sometime around Christmas when my Dad made me get a modest trim to appease my visiting relatives. I ended up just getting a taper and trimming the front. I liked the cut, it felt better than having all the hair on my head.

But despite thinking my hair was a little long, I smiled at my reflection. This was the style that everyone had at school, and I was rocking it. In fact even as long as I grew my hair, it's still a bit short when compared to the boys at my school. Boys like Luke and Jacob whose jet black and brown hair respectively both had their fringe layered and further down into their eyes. The back of their hair though was nicely tapered, and I liked that look. I thought about asking for that style this weekend.

The work I was putting in at the gym was paying off, as even through my gray hoodie, you could see the slight definition of my biceps. I wasn’t football player jacked or anything, but the toned look did suit me. I was never immensely popular, but as a pitcher for the baseball team people did know who I was. The popular look on the baseball team was of course, the classic baseball mullet with the hair coming out underneath the cap. Maybe I’d grow out my hair to achieve that look.

I turned my head looking in the mirror, trying to imagine my blonde hair in the mullet. I would look like all the other boys on the team. Maybe the girls would like me more if I had that long flowing hair. I started daydreaming about having a blonde mullet, hitting the gym more and getting even more ripped. I could become quite the dream guy huh? Yeah- that would be the plan, I could make up an excuse to get out of a haircut this weekend.

About half an hour later, I went back downstairs for an afternoon snack. When I slid past the living room into the kitchen, I saw my Dad out of the corner of my eye shaking his head while he looked at the top of my head. That wasn’t good. I knew I was in trouble now. I could feel his eyes follow me as I walked past him. I got an apple off the kitchen island and started eating quietly. Maybe if I took my time in the kitchen, he would forget about my hair by the time I passed back upstairs? The plan was as good as any, so I finished my apple in the kitchen, and ten minutes later I tried to sneak back up the stairs.

"Bradley…" I heard my Dad call out from the couch

Welp… The plan didn’t work out as well as I was hoping it would.

"Yes Dad?" I said, turning around. I was hoping that maybe there was a chance that this would just be about dinner or something?

"Get my wallet from the mantel and take out a twenty," He said firmly, continuing to talk while I followed his direction, "Why don’t you go out now and get a haircut, you should be able to find a barber shop open if you hurry."

Oh no… That was a huge complication to my plans, "But Dad… I don’t really wanna get a haircut," I started, holding the money in my hand as I put the wallet back on the mantel.

"Nonsense," He said, sitting up on the coach, "How can you not want a haircut when you have that mop on your head? You’re telling me it doesn’t bother you at all?" He raised an eyebrow, "I see you constantly flipping your bangs out of your eyes."

I swallowed, not being able to think of a defense. He made a good point. I was tired of having to flip my hair out of my face. But I had my caps to keep it under control for me, "This is the style now," I said, hoping that the plea of being fashionable would save my locks. I should’ve known better as my Dad just laughed in response.

"I raised you to be your own man Bradley. And being a man means being able to stand out. Isn’t that why you started hitting the gym? You aren’t telling me you want to have a nice manly body with that rat's nest on your head?"

"I don’t wanna look like a dork, or one of those JROTC kids," I said, feeling my heartbeat faster. I was quickly talking myself into a hole, I was smart enough to realize that though. I swallowed, turning my gaze to the ground, unable to look at my dad. I could tell by where this was going that it would soon dissolve into our classic arguments about the length of a boy’s hair. I had won in high school with the ‘I’m old enough to make my own decisions’ but it seemed that my dad had finally grown tired of my decisions.

"Bradley," My dad sighed, "having a real haircut does not make you look like a dork. You have to wear the haircut, not let the haircut wear you. Now, either you take that twenty and go right now, or I can get up and take you myself."

"Fine… I’ll go," I was sixteen, I didn’t want my Dad taking me for a cut. I couldn’t handle that embarrassment. Fine, I’d get a haircut. I’ll just go down to my chain salon and take a few inches off to satisfy him.

Well I could’ve just gone to my usual chain salon if I actually did hurry, but I instead spent upwards of thirty minutes just biking around, annoyed at having to get a haircut. I had made it into the center of historic downtown. If I was going to find a place open, it would have to be in historic downtown, anywhere else I’d just be aimlessly wandering. The buildings were laid out on a grid, with one main street down the middle with a bunch of side streets intersecting it. It was in the town square where I found a map of historic downtown.

‘Main Street Barbers’, it was just further down Main Street which I was on. I had never heard of it before, but it would beat coming home and getting yelled at by my dad. I started biking off again towards it and only a minute later I was outside of the shop, locking my bike to the bike rack. I started into the shop. I hope this wasn’t going to be a mistake. The red, blue, and white pole on the side didn’t inspire confidence in me. I opened the door and shut it behind me, taking a deep breath. This was it, there was no turning back now that I was in the shop.

"Welcome son, take a seat, I’ll be with you next," The barber said as he wrapped the cape around a boy who was facing away from the mirror. He looked like he was about twelve. From my perspective, he didn’t need a haircut. The back and sides weren’t covering anything, it looked like an overgrown pelt and in the front, his fringe barely covered half of his forehead.

I mumbled a thank you as I looked around the barbershop. It wasn’t too big, just one decent sized rectangular room. The walls were white, the floors were this baby blue and white checkerboard pattern. The only lights were on the half of the shop populated by the barber’s chairs which there were three of despite only one barber working today. It was a Tuesday after all, not the busiest day of the week. The chairs were red leather, decked out with feet and armrests. The opposite side of the shop was where the waiting chairs were, directly facing the barber’s chairs and the mirror. It looked completely different than the chain salon, and I immediately felt out of place, but it was too late now.

I settled into a waiting chair next to a boy who looked a few years younger than me, maybe fourteen. Sitting next to him made my anxiety spike. I knew there was no way that he was here for a cut as his back and sides were shorn, only a dense stubble was left and the top had a small bit of hair spiked up in the front. It was a cut that I didn’t even know to describe. He was probably a victim in the chair before, and even though the boy in the chair’s hair is a little lighter, they must be brothers. I felt bad for them, it was obvious that their fathers had sent them out to be sheared like this. I was transfixed, glancing sideways at the brother and the stubble that was left. No way I would end up like him. I debated getting up and leaving, it's not like I would come here again. But on the off chance I did, I didn’t want to be the boy who was remembered for running. I looked at the cut again, I wondered what it’d be like to have such short hair. Not to feel any weight on my forehead or neck, and the smooth pelt- but no, I couldn’t. I couldn’t have the shortest hair on the baseball team, there was no way.

When I looked back at the chair I heard the barber tell the boy to put his head down as he brought out the clippers. I swallowed. It had been a long time since I had last seen the clippers, not since I was a little boy being dragged to the barber’s by my father. My eyes trailed to the door, but I knew it was too late now to dart. I mean, I was already in a waiting chair. There was no way out of here.

My thoughts were interrupted by a click and the loud hum of the clippers starting up. The barber took the clippers and pushed them across the back of the boy’s hair. My eyes must’ve opened wide. I wanted to look away but I couldn’t. I thought his hair was short before, but I saw the pelt fall off the back of his head as the barber clipped away. It took about a minute for the barber to finish in the back and work on tackling the sides. As he clipped the sides, I finally got a good look at the boy’s hair, or what was left of it. Because the brother’s hair was lighter, you could kind of see his scalp underneath the fuzz underneath the shop’s lights. He was being scalped right in front of my eyes. I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have the clippers go up the back of my head- but no I couldn’t be the only one with a clipper cut in my grade. I wasn't in JROTC. There was no way I could actually get one.

I could feel a lump in my throat as I continued to stare straight at the carnage. After a few more unrelenting minutes the barber had finished on the back and sides and gotten out his thinning shears to clean up the front. He snipped away for a bit, meticulously making sure each bit in the front was correct. Once that process was complete, he spiked up the front and the boy in the chair looked just like his brother. I tried my hardest not to laugh, mostly I just felt pity for these brothers. I couldn’t imagine the teasing they must endure each day after their scalpings.

The barber dusted off the boy’s back and sides and took the cape off.

"Thank you Mr. Joe," The boy said quietly as he hopped out of the chair and walked over his brother.

His brother stood up with a smile plastered on his face and rubbed the back of the boy’s head, "Looks good as always," he chuckled, walking up to the barber, whose name must be Joe, and handing him a twenty, "Thank you sir," the brother said.

"Always a pleasure with you two," Joe said taking the bill, "I’ll see you next time for your summer cuts. Maybe we’ll go a little shorter, it's gonna be a hot one I hear."

The brother chuckled and nodded his head, "Yessir, then we should," He said, wrapping an arm around his brother and walking out of the shop.

I couldn’t help but stare out after them. Shorter? How could they possibly be okay with going shorter? It even seemed like the brother liked the cut? It wasn’t possible, there’s no way any boy would like that cut. This must've just been an act they played. I was impressed, they endured the scalping and were able to keep a smile on their faces. They had to be strong to do that when they looked the way they did

"Son, you’re here for a haircut right? Well come on, I don’t bite?" Joe’s voice snapped me out of my pondering.

My mouth instantly dried out hearing his deep gruff voice directly address me, I peered back up at him and finally took a good look at him. He was tan, a bit stocky, and already starting to bald. He had a gray mustache to match the color of what was left on the top of his head.

He looked down at me and cleared his throat. I blinked, once again getting lost in my head. I quickly stood up and started slowly to the chair. I ignored how I could hear my heartbeat in my left ear, this was it. I was getting in his chair and Joe would be cutting my hair. My only hope was that he’d let me off easily.

"Ain’t you gonna take your hat off first son?" Joe asked, looking bemused at me.

My face flushed red in embarrassment as I nodded, turned around and took my cap off to place it in the waiting chair. As I took my cap off, I heard Joe behind me chuckle slightly. I turned back around and he smiled widely at me, looking as if he had just won the lottery. That look didn’t reassure me, I was really in for a battle.

"You came to the right place son," He said, patting the back of the barber’s chair, "Let me fix that mop you got there."

My face must’ve gone even redder. There was no way out of it now, he wanted to butcher me… There was no way I was going to let that happen. I would be walking out with a trim. My hair might be a little shorter than everyone else’s tomorrow but I’d work right away at growing it out to match my teammate’s mullets.

"Hair blocking your ears or what son? Take a seat," He chuckled, shaking his head.

I let out a sigh. Joe had jokes, he could take the hair off my ears, but I wouldn’t let him have anymore. I stepped over what little hair on the floor the boy before me left. I could feel my heartbeat even louder as I stepped on the footrest and turned to sit down.

"What cut you thinking of?" Joe asked me as he wrapped the cape around me. I shifted upwards, uncomfortably choked by the cape. Joe spun the chair around to face the mirror as he brushed out my hair. Now there really was no escape. I leaned back slightly, trying to gather up enough courage to speak.

"Uhhh… Just a trim," I managed to stammer out while he brushed my bangs into my eyes, "Please…"

Joe shook his head, "You need more than a trim boy."

"I'm sure that I… I just want a trim," I reaffirmed. It didn’t look like he was going to let me off easy. Why didn’t I just hurry off to my chain salon. I could’ve avoided all this. He wasn’t going to win, there was no way I’d let him.

"What’s your name son?"

"Bradley."

"I saw the way you were staring during that boy’s haircut. Are you sure you don’t want a cut like his?" Joe said.

I quickly shook my head. I looked back at Joe like he was crazy. I was too shocked to put my resistance into words. I couldn’t believe he had noticed? Was he watching me while cutting that boy’s hair? Yeah, I did think about how the clippers felt, but I was thinking more about them cleaning up the neck or something, surely he didn’t mean me being scalped like them! Me? Never! Never in a million years would I do that. I would be that laughing stock tomorrow at school!

"How old are you son?" He asked me.

"Sixteen…"

"Ah I see," Joe chuckled while nodding to himself, "You’re in that teenage period… You think you’ve outgrown short hair. You think that it's too childish. You know what's not childish? Being and looking respectful. You see those two boys: well raised children. They always come in once every two weeks to get their hair looking right. They always say ‘yes sir’ and ‘no ma’am’ unlike you. You could use the reminder to be respectful. If you look the part, you’ll carry yourself differently lemme tell you. Now, what cut are you thinking of?" He repeated, looking at me through the mirror.

"A trim…" I repeated, refusing to give in to the barber. I could already see the problem. Joe looked at me as a representation of everything that was wrong with my generation. My laid back attitude, my long hair, but that wasn’t our fault. It was Joe who needed to let up and get with the times. I didn’t care what those boys were like, it was clear in my mind that their father must’ve been strict and put them up to it. I didn’t want to be demeaned like that while I was in the chair. ‘Respectful’ maybe I wanted to look respectful, maybe I didn’t. What did it matter to Joe?

Joe’s face dropped into an expression of mild annoyance, "Now son, you know what I think you should get?" He asked, waiting for an answer.

"No…" I shook my head slightly, looking down at my lap. How was I supposed to know what possibly this crazy old man wants to do to my head? He probably wanted me to look like some dork from the 1950s with the back and the sides of my hair shaved off and the top with some horrid gel to make it stand up.

"No sir," He corrected, putting a firm hand on my caped shoulder.

"No sir," I immediately repeated. I felt like swallowing, but there was no saliva in my mouth for me to. I could play his game just like those two boys, but I wouldn’t subject myself to getting sheared like them.

"I would take you right down to the wood. A #0," Joe said.

My jaw dropped as I looked back up at him, "What do you mean by… down to the wood?" There was no way he could mean that… To the wood?

Joe let out another one of his deep chuckles, "I think you know what I mean by down to the wood. I mean that if it was up to me, I’d shave this mess right off your head."

I instantly froze hearing those words leave his lips. My head slowly descended back down as I couldn’t look at Joe after that. I started to feel a little queasy sitting in the chair. There was no way he would shave me. Well no- it was very clear that that was his intention, but there was no way I’d go through with it. I would be mocked so hard tomorrow, there was no way. I tried to think of anyone at my school who had their hair that short. I could only think of a few JROTC kids and maybe one kid on the football team. And yeah- they pulled it off, but I wasn’t like them. I was a little on the scrawny side still, and I wasn’t that tall. There was no way I could look like them… But sure- maybe with more time in the gym I could possibly achieve that look and be as manly as they were. What was I thinking? There was no way I was going to let him shave my head.

"A baldy will build character son," Joe said as he turned the chair away from the mirror, "After we get rid of that mop, everything’s gonna come together for you. You’ll have to hold your head higher. A lot of confidence comes from one, you’d be surprised. It’s really a cut that transforms you."

He was really trying to sell it. It seemed everyone that day was trying to sell me on it. Thoughts of the talk with my Dad earlier that day came flooding back into my mind. ‘Wear the haircut’ he said, and now Joe was saying similar things about the baldy haircut. Those boys like the football player sure did wear the haircut. They stood up perfectly straight, somehow looking even a little taller without their hair. No, there was no way I was actually considering it! I couldn’t be bald, no. Yet, they were everything that I wanted to be.

"You haven’t said no yet," Joe remarked, almost teasingly as he walked over to grab a pair of big black clippers.

"I don’t think I’m gonna like the look," I mumbled out, my voice barely audible. I was running out of excuses. I didn’t have the courage to go through with it, that was the real reason. I didn’t want to endure the remarks tomorrow about it at school. Still- the people I thought of were more buff, more tall, and ultimately more manly than I was. I wouldn't look the same. Maybe the baldy was something I could do later down the line?

"Nonsense," Joe shook his head, not even attempting to hide the smile on his face, "It's just a little haircut son. If you don’t like the look, it’ll grow back."

That sealed my fate. I couldn’t think of another objection, so I simply nodded my head. Joe had won, I would be getting a baldy. There was nothing more I could think of to stop what I guess was inevitable since I walked into Main Street Barbers. I tried to get my breathing back to normal, no way was I going to be sixteen and fearing a haircut.

"Don’t worry, just sit back and relax. I promise, this is only gonna do you some good," Joe said as he took his position behind me and raised his clippers up with his right hand.

Joe slid his left hand underneath my fringe and pulled it back as he pressed the clippers to my forehead. I stopped breathing. My eyes shut closed and I grimaced, this was the moment, the last time I’d be able to feel hair on my head. I was seconds away from losing it all. Except, that second never came.

Instead, I heard Joe laughing from behind me as the clippers turned off, "C’mon now- I ain’t pulling teeth, relax kid," he said, stabilizing the clippers on top of my forehead. My eyes rolled up as I stared at the clippers that were hovering over my hairline.

"Alright, three… two…"

Two was all Joe gave me before he ran the bare clippers over the middle of my head. My eyes shut and my whole body tensed up as I felt the cold steel graze my skull, up and down the apex of the top of my head. The most jarring sensation was the immediate lightness I felt as the clippers completed their first swipe. My exhale was rough as all the build up came to its climax, I would be walking out with baldy, there was no changing that now.

I leaned forward, trying to survey the damage. I started to turn my head before Joe cleared his throat, "I have to finish the cut now son, unless you wanna go out looking like that. So sit still," he barked out.

I nodded my head slowly, realizing that there was a strip of fringe missing when I shook my head out. After a small sigh, I leaned back into the chair, relinquishing control once again to Joe to continue his path of carnage. He raised the clippers back up, and immediately made two more swipes very quickly on either side of the initial swipe. This time, the discarded hair fell down onto my lap. I could feel the vibrations of the clippers in my skull, making thinking about anything hard. My head was only filled with the sound of the whirring clippers as swipe after swipe left the top of my head bald.

A large hand then gripped the top of my head and forced it into a downwards position, and I was left staring at the blonde hair scattered on my lap, falling off onto the floor. Joe repositioned the clipper and ran it across the back of my head just like I had seen him do the boy before. I let out a small exhale as I felt the clippers run up past my occipital bone. As the clippers made more runs up the back of my head, I began to feel more and more relaxed. The feel of the clippers running against my skull was blissful. How it ran against every inch, leaving nothing behind.

I closed my eyes as I felt Joe’s hand tilt my head to the right and left as he started shearing up my sideburns, folding my ears and taking down the rest of my hair. It wasn’t much longer until I heard Joe turn the clippers off and put them up. I opened my eyes again and as the first thing I felt was the cool breeze of the AC on my scalp, I was met with the severity of what I had done.

I had gotten a baldy…

"Are you ready to see the new you?" Joe cheered as he started to dust me off.

The feel of the brush against my bare scalp sent tingles throughout my body. I bit my lip as I tried to stifle the chuckle at the tickling sensation. I was bald, there was no way I was going to let Joe hear me laugh after his brutal discarding of my blonde locks.

"Yessir…" I said in the trance-like state I was in as Joe turned chair back to face the mirror.

Shock! That was the only way to describe how I felt as I looked in the mirror. I was looking directly at a boy who had my eyes, my face, but not my hair. My jaw dropped as I blinked, ending the staring contest with my reflection. I hated to admit it but Joe was right. Without the hair, all my features looked more defined. My cheekbones and my jaw line appeared more sharp. My forehead was the perfect size, it didn’t look too big or too small with the absence of hair. My entire facial structure suited the cut, as much as it killed me to say. My shoulders looked more broad without hair dripping on it, but still, my chest and arms weren’t big enough to suit it. I didn’t know what to feel. I turned my head to the left and so did the boy in the mirror. So he must be me? My scalp was glowing white under the overhead lights of the barbershop. If it looked this white here, I was scared to see how it’d look under the sun. It contrasted against my mildly tanned face. Even the top half of my forehead was pale white now that it didn’t have the bangs to cover it.

"What do you think?" Joe asked with a smirk as he took the cape off me.

I just swallowed, not feeling strong enough to get out of the chair. I was bald! I didn’t know what to think.

"Come on son, you were enjoying it so much during the cut," Joe said, putting the cape back up. He walked back over to me, "That’s a handsome young man right there," He said, pointing at me in the mirror before using that hand to give my head a strong rub.

My face went red with embarrassment at my bald head being rubbed by the man who had just inflicted it upon me, but the feeling of someone’s hand on my bare scalp was strange but electric. Finally, I got the courage to stand up. Slowly, I reached my hand up to feel the top of my head.

Sandpaper, grainy little tiny stubble. That’s all I felt. I shook my head, it was real. I was shorn all the way down to the wood, there was no mistake about it. I smiled slightly, I couldn’t help it. The feeling of it felt so much better than my thick rough hair… Oh no- I was enjoying this too much, there was no way I was thinking this felt better than my hair- or what was my hair.

"How much..?" I asked, finally getting my bearings back enough to remember that I needed to pay Joe, even though I felt like he was the one who enjoyed the cut more than me. I hoped the topic change would allow me to not have to answer how I felt about the cut.

"Oh there’s no need to. This first one will be on the house," Joe smiled, "I’ll see you back here in two to four weeks to clean you up," he said as he started on sweeping up my hair.

Back? Me? For another Baldy? Oh there was no way Joe thought I’d be back. I didn’t know about that. I guess now that I did it, there wouldn’t be any problem with getting another one? It's not like I’d be mocked for keeping my hair short after they’d get it out of their system the first time.

I walked back over to the waiting chair, my hands not leaving my hair until they reached down to pick my hat back up. I was really starting to fall in love with the feeling as I put my Dodger’s cap back on before making my way to the door of the shop before I heard Joe chuckle. I turned around, wondering what was making him laugh.

"That hat is a little big on you now, ain’t it son?" Joe said with that teasing look on his face.

My face turned red again as I looked down, "Thank you… for the cut sir," I said before quickly exiting out through the door.

I went over and started to take my bike out of my rack when it hit me: what was my Dad going to say when I got home? He said to make sure I got a short haircut, but there was no way he meant for me to end up completely scalped! Oh- who am I kidding, he’s going to be very happy when I walk back in. After all, he wanted me to have a man’s cut, and I don’t think there was any cut that fit that bill more.

Wait… it was Tuesday, that meant tomorrow was Wednesday! I was going to have to go to school completely bald! What would my friends say- Everyone’s going to make fun of me, there’s no way I can actually go to school like this. I couldn’t let my teammates see this.

Joe did say a baldy builds character and forces you to hold your head high, I’ll see about that tomorrow. I’ll see what the baldy makes me, and I’ll make sure to wear the haircut, not let the haircut wear me. The only thing I was sure of though is that tomorrow was going to be a very long day.

(Please leave any feedback you can think of! I’m really trying to elevate my skill and find the motivation I need to become a regular writer here. I appreciate everyone who takes the time from their day to read my story.)

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