The Scholarship Student: Chapter 5 by ckbald

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The Scholarship Student: Chapter 5

If you’re still interested in reading this story thank you! This is the fifth chapter of a multi-chapter story. It will make more sense if you’ve read the first four chapters. It is an homage to, in honor of, an extension and an appreciation of stories written by two of the best, most talented storytellers on this site, Manny and CleanCut.


The parking lot of the East Side Plaza Shopping Center was pretty empty at 7:45 on a Friday morning. Marshall steered his truck into a spot right in front of the barber shop, and next to a Ford F-150 the same year as his, but black, not silver like his.

"Sweet," murmured Marshall, noticing the just-washed-shine of the black truck, and appreciating the obvious pride the owner took in having such a fine ride. Marshall had his hand-me-down truck washed every other week, maintaining the same upkeep that his late brother Fred had shown the truck when it was his.

Pulling down the sun visor, Marshall looked in the mirror and gave his lush, chestnut locks a final raking with his fingers, brushing the floppy forelock out of his eyes one last time. It felt great to have made a decision about a haircut, but it had been murder waiting until this morning, just over a week after Mr. Carson had told Marshall that he was the recipient of his high school’s Majewski Scholarship, to hook up with Mr. Carson’s barber at the East Side Plaza Barber Shop. The high school’s spring awards and scholarship assembly was this morning, and Marshall had decided last week to wait until the assembly to debut his new look. He had breathed a sigh of relief when he saw online that the barbershop opened at 7:30 each morning, and Marshall’s first class on Fridays wasn’t until 9:50. When he had told Mr. Carson his plan, his chemistry teacher had grinned from ear to ear and said, "You can’t go wrong with that haircut." He had also promised to take care of securing the necessary permission Marshall needed to arrive at school late, since he was still only a junior. "I’ll tell them the newest recipient of the Majewski Scholarship has to tighten some things up before the awards ceremony," he said solemnly as he glanced at Marshall’s floppy chestnut mane.

Marshall straightened the knot on his tie, pushed the sun visor up, and jumped down from the cab of his truck. He could see through the large plate glass window that there was just one barber cutting hair this morning, and that his chair was occupied. Knowing that he’d be next in the chair, Marshall eagerly pushed open the door and strode into the shop.
"Mornin’," Marshall said, taking off his corduroy blazer and hanging it on a hook next to a classic blue blazer that was already hanging on the coat rack to the side of the door. He settled into one of the chairs that looked like it had once been in a ball stadium, and which was one in a row that faced the barber chairs across the checkered linoleum floor.
"Hey, good morning! You’ll be right up after I get rid of Hank the hippie, and bring back Hank the tank," the barber replied. "I’m Jerry, by the way. Welcome to the East Side. No school today? Or has the high school also banned hippies?" Jerry laughed, giving Marshall a classic sh*t-eating grin. Marshall grinned back, pushing his floppy chestnut-colored forelock off his forehead. He was curious why Jerry had referred to the guy in the chair, Hank, as a hippy. As best as Marshall could tell, this Hank guy was probably in his thirties, and his hair didn't look too much longer than Mr. Carson’s flattop, like maybe how long it’d be if his teacher skipped a couple of his weekly cuts.
On the other hand, Jerry, the barber, late-forties, and sporting a royal blue tunic that snugly enveloped his big biceps, had a perfectly smooth shaved head that shone cleanly in the classic neon lighting that framed the mirrors behind each barber chair. His salt and pepper beard was well-trimmed and close cut.
"No sir, it’s a school day. I’m just goin’ in later for an assembly," answered Marshall.
"Oh, hey, buddy, are you Jeff Carson’s student, the one who’s winnin’ the scholarship, and like a whole year earlier than the other winners? Ya gotta be, right, cause I don’t get much business from guys your age, with hair as pretty as yours, interested in makin’ such a drastic change, " Jerry said, a broad smile on his face.
"Yes, sir, I’m Marshall Krusinski, good to meet ya. That’s right, I’m the only junior recipient of the Majewski Scholarship," Marshall said, with a deserved tinge of pride in his voice. "So, Mr. Carson, he, uh, told ya yesterday that I’d be in this mornin’, huh?" As excited as he was about committing to his new image, getting rid of all of his "cool soccer boy" hair, Marshall had also been a little nervous about the whole barber shop experience, trying to fit in and all. He was stoked now, knowing that Mr. Carson had kinda smoothed the way for him.
"He did, my man, and he’s real proud of ya, too!"
"Well, sir, Mr. Carson, he’s like a teacher, and a mentor and an older brother rolled up into one. And Mr. Maxwell, and their son, Mikey couldn’t be more awesome and make me feel like part of the family. And, ya know, I’ve been plannin’ on gettin’ rid of all this hair for a long time. And now I’ve got the right reason to. I’m really pumped about this scholarship, and I take it seriously, ya know"

From across the barbershop, Jerry looked Marshall over and told him that, except for the hair, he was already looking like a serious scholarship winner. Marshall shot Frank a thumbs up, replying, " I appreciate it, sir!" Marshall had chosen his outfit for the assembly with great care, and with the knowledge that this would most likely be his new look from now on. He wanted a more streamlined look that would focus attention on his haircut, that showed he was reaching higher, earning, as well as showing, respect. He had decided on a pair of navy Hagar chinos, a no-iron short-sleeved white shirt, a striped tie, his brown corduroy blazer, and his late brother Fred’s still-like-new Red Wing 6" dark brown work boots. They were a little big, so, in a nod to Mr. Carson’s awesome style, Marshall was wearing a pair of thick white cotton socks. His contacts were replaced by metal-framed aviators that he had to dig out of his desk drawer, and Marshall was relieved when he could still see just fine out of them. He had also ordered on Amazon a package of plastic pocket protectors and was wearing one filled with pens and a couple of pencils. Since he was going to be visiting the East Side Barber Shop regularly from now on, Marshall needed to expand his after school chemistry tutoring business, so he told himself he needed to have pens and pencils at all times. He chuckled to himself as he pictured Mr. Carson, the king of the plastic pocket protector, seeing this tribute to him.
" He’ll be okay with it, I bet, " Marshall thought, shifting around in his seat, trying to look all calm and cool with one leg propped up on the other, hoping that neither Jerry nor Hank, in the barber chair which Jerry had turned so that it faced the waiting area, noticed how excited he had become watching Hank’s haircut. Jerry had taken his Oster 76 clippers and decimated the hair on the sides and back of Hank’s head.
"Congratulations on this scholarship, Marshall. What are you winning it for?" asked Hank, glancing over towards Marshall and keeping his head completely still while Jerry moved his clippers across the top of his head, mowing the dark brown hair left on top down to no more than an inch in length.
Marshall sat up straighter in his chair and shared the story of Mr. Majewski and the scholarship started in his honor by Mr. Carson. Marshall’s enthusiasm and his passion for chemistry brought a big smile to Hank’s face, who was eagerly nodding along as the story went on.
"Gotta keep the head still, buddy, or ya gonna be bald," Jerry said with all seriousness, lifting the purring clippers and placing a steadying hand on the top of Hank’s head. "I guess this is what happens when ya let almost a month go by instead of comin’ in for your bi-weekly clean up, forgettin’ how to sit still in the chair, huh." This last comment was said with a wink directed at Marshall, as if delivering secret knowledge that a proper haircut needed to be faithfully maintained. Marshall gave a thumbs up in agreement, signalling that he understood the advice being given, and also, he suddenly realized, that this was the haircut he was going to get, rather than the cut he had told Mr. Carson that he was planning on sporting for his new look. The haircut that Jerry expected to give him when he finished up with Hank.
Hank chuckled and apologized for moving around so much, the talk tapered off, Jerry got back to business, and Marshall relaxed into his chair, now keeping a closer eye on the haircut taking shape in front of him. He smiled when he thought about Jerry warning Hank he’d be bald if he didn’t hold still. Some folks would argue that Hank was in effect already bald now. Jerry had taken the clippers and carved a path down the center of Hank’s head, extending it all the way out so that it blended into the stubble on the back of his head. This had left a horseshoe shaped ring of hair which Jerry then used his clipper and a comb to flatten to no more than three-quarters of an inch long, if Marshall had to guess. But Marshall didn’t really care how short or long it was, the cut was tight! Jerry had wrapped Hank’s head in a warm towel for a few minutes, removed the towel, and spread shaving cream across the back and sides of his stubbled head, as well as down the path he’d carved out on top. He was just now finishing up straight-razor shaving all of that shaving cream off. Hank’s eyes were closed, and Marshall heard him breathe a sigh of peaceful satisfaction.
Marshall couldn’t wait for his turn in the chair. Hank looked confident, sharp, and professional. It was how Marshall wanted to look as the recipient of the Majewski Scholarship. This haircut was gonna make that possible. He’d always admired Mr. Carson’s flattop, but Hank’s cut was one that Marshall knew he could own, something bold and unique to him. Marshall was thinking it was the best of both Mikey’s recon and Mr. Carson’s flattop. Marshall also approved of Hank’s neatly trimmed, precise military style mustache

"Get yerself over here, Marshall, we need to get ya ready for that big awards ceremony my man," Jerry said as he un-caped Hank and brushed off the barber chair. Eyes sparkling, broad grin spread across his face, Marshall strutted over across the shop towards the chair. He was pleasantly surprised when Hank reached out and shook his hand, again offering his congratulations on the scholarship. Marshall thanked him and watched (he hoped he wasn’t being too obvious) as Hank headed towards the register to pay. Like Marshall, Hank was wearing a short sleeved dress shirt, light blue not white, which tightly contained biceps as sculpted and big as Jerry’s, and his forearms were hairy and thick. His tie was perhaps a bit too wide for today’s style, but the chest it rested on was strong and as muscular as his arms. A solid good sized belly pushed out the rest of the shirt. His grey suede lace up shoes with black crepe soles looked functional and comfortable. He was what Marshall knew guys called a bear, and Marshall thought he looked pretty hot, for an older man. Best of all, Hank also had a nerdy pocket protector filled with pens and pencils, as well as a small ruler. Marshall settled himself in the chair, and when he looked over towards the register, Hank pulled a pair of plastic, black-framed glasses out of his trousers, put them on, and adjusted the completely nerdy strap that wrapped snugly around the bald back of his freshly shorn head and kept his glasses in place. "Alright, Hank the Tank, I better see you in here in two weeks like usual, capeesh!" Jerry shook Hank’s hand.
"Yeah, ya will, two weeks. Like regular. The break up, having to move out, took up my focus, but I’m getting there, moving forward…," Hank said quietly.
"It’s rough, I hear you, man. But ya look sharp, and, as you just said, you’re moving forward," Jerry answered as he headed over to Marshall, waiting in the chair.
"Alright, Marshall! You’re up my man. No need to ask what we’re doing today, since Jeff Carson filled me in when he was in this very chair yesterday," Jerry said as he shook out the cape and draped it around Marshall.
"Yeah, about that sir. Change in plans," Marshall said, grinning and looking up at Jerry.
Hank finished putting his sport coat on and turned around to face Marshall and Jerry, a look of interest and anticipation on his face. Hank couldn’t help himself. "So, what ARE we doing today?" he asked, surprising Marshall and Jerry.
Marshall swiveled his head between Jerry and Hank, and then settled his gaze on Hank, gesturing with his chin, indicating that "we’re doing that today."
Hank grinned his own sh*%t-eating grin and slowly palmed the shiny bald back of his noggin, bringing his hand up top, brushing it back and forth across the short, tight bristles and smooth landing strip.
Jerry, eyes twinkling, said solemnly "Yes sir. One genuine military high and tight horseshoe flattop, beveled edges, razor-shaved-bald back, sides, and landing strip coming right up." He clamped Marshall tightly on his shoulder under the barber cape and turned the chair slightly so they faced each other. "You’ve made the best choice, young man. It’s a severe cut, not for everyone. Hank is only one of three clients I have with the confidence to wear a shoe this bold. And now, the four of you, you’re like this exclusive club. It’s awesome!"

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