The Scholarship Student: Chapter 6 by ckbald

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The Scholarship Student: Chapter 6

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.


Hank, who’d been texting on his phone, interrupted Jerry at this point. "Hey Marshall, my genuine military high and tight horseshoe flatty brother and fellow club member, I’d like to stick around for the transformation, if you don’t mind. And, I’ve got something I want to run by ya that I think will land solidly with a Majewski Scholarship winner!"
"That’d be awesome! I’m pretty sure my new landing strip is gonna be good for solid landings, Mr…? I don’t know your last name," Marshall said.
"Henry Lopez, but I go by Hank."
"Mr. Lopez, good to meet ya! Have a seat, I’m all ears."
"Not all ears yet, Marshall, but ya will be shortly," chuckled Jerry as he plowed the Oster 76 clippers up through the thick chestnut hair on the right side of Marshall’s head.
Marshall let out a laugh and threw his head back slightly. "Hey, what is it with you two guys and all the head waggin’?" Jerry demanded. "You want to end up bald, is that why ya can’t keep your head still?"
"Yes sir, I can keep my head still. No sir, I don’t want to end up bald. No disrespect, but the only bald I ever want is the back, sides and landing strip of my shoe," proudly declared Marshall.
Hank turned to the door of the barbershop and said over his shoulder, "Let me run out to my truck and get some information that I want to share with you, Marshall."


He opened the door and dashed out. The cool morning breeze that wafted in and across the shop caressed both sides of Marshall’s now stubbled head. He shut his eyes for a moment, enjoying the sensation that pretty shortly was going to be a routine one. Jerry had yet to mow his clippers through the mop remaining on top, or his floppy forelock, and Marshall imagined with a smile how awesome any sort of breeze over his head was going to feel with only a horseshoe of perfectly erect chestnut bristles no more than three fourths of inch long and a baby smooth landing strip up top. Hank came back into the shop and settled himself with his briefcase on his lap in a chair directly across from where Marshall’s transformation was taking place.
"That sweet F-150 belongs to you, Mr. Lopez? Looks like we’re members of an even more exclusive club; horseshoe flattop guys with Ford F-150s. I’m parked next to ya out front."
"Nice! I’ve been driving F-150s since my high school days, too. Got my first one from my uncle. Yep, got Uncle Santiago’s truck, and his haircut."
Hank told Marshall that when he was a senior in high school he’d been offered his first job, but it was a couple of towns over from the one he lived in. His uncle was in the market for a new truck and was willing to sell Hank his old truck for a minimal amount of money. He was going to be bringing home a paycheck, and his uncle expected Hank to set aside an amount each pay day to pay for the truck. As a high schooler, Hank had kept his hair styled and gelled, and by senior year his thick brown hair hung down below his shirt collar. Uncle Santiago, a career Marine, had always been on his nephew’s case about his hair, trying to make the point that long hair showed a lack of discipline, as well as laziness. Uncle Santiago seemed to believe that if Hank wore his hair shorter, he’d be number one in his high school class, rather than fourth, and the soccer team he captained would be winning more games; the team was in second place. Hank was excited about working at the sporting goods store, starting as a sales associate, with the possibility of moving into management, as well as being able to stay part-time with the nationwide company while going to college if it all worked out. But he needed a way to get to the mall, and his Uncle’s offer was the only offer on the table, so when Santiago explained that he would need to get a short haircut if he wanted the truck at such a good price, on such good terms, Hank had agreed; besides, his uncle hadn’t specified how short his hair needed to be.
"Speakin’ of short, Marshall, your high and tight horseshoe flatty is shaping up nicely," interrupted Jerry, who had just carved out Marshall’s landing strip, "but we’ve still got some tightin’ up to do."
As Jerry took a dab of butch wax and rubbed it between his palms, Marshall reached up and ran his hand around the stubbled back and sides of his head, and then brushed it across the strip of almost bare skin and the horseshoe of chestnut hair remaining on top.
"You bet, sir! I’m not lookin’ to be confused with a hippie," and he grinned at Hank. Hank gave Marshall a thumbs up, and Jerry applied the butch wax to Marshall’s short hair, ready to use the Osters and a comb to clip the now very erect inch long bristles down to a respectable three-fourths of an inch.

Hank continued his story. He was starting his first shift at the sporting goods store on a Friday evening, which left him enough time to swing by his house for a quick dinner before driving to the mall, two towns over. Before school started Friday morning, Uncle Santiago had pulled up in front of Hank’s house in the truck that was soon to be Hank’s so that he and Hank could head to his barber shop together. His uncle had insisted that he was going to take Hank to his barber, since this was the bonding ritual he’d always hoped for with Hank, and he knew Al could cut short hair. Freshly shorn of his long brown locks, uncle and nephew would drive to Santiago’s house, drop him off, and Hank would have the truck for the rest of the day. On the way to the barber shop, Uncle Santiago kept turning to Hank in the passenger seat and saying how happy he was that he could finally say with pride that the young man with SHORT hair was his favorite nephew. He kept saying when Hank looks like him, people will know we’re family, that there is respect between the generations, a connection, too.
"I just turned and looked out the window, rolling my eyes at how serious Uncle Santiago was taking this haircut business. He was only in his thirties, and he was talking about generations. But, I mean, I was just gonna get a short haircut, something like the male teachers at school had, with a little ear showing, and off my collar," laughed Hank.
Marshall chuckled when Mr. Lopez shared this bit of information. He was riveted by Mr. Lopez’s story, and at the same time enjoying all the sensations he was experiencing as Jerry unwrapped the warm towel from around his head and applied shaving cream around the sides and back, as well as down the length of his landing strip. He was eager to find out what being shaved with, and then a second time against, the grain felt like. He was stoked, ready to get his shoe tightened up every two weeks.
As Hank continued his story, he started casually palming the bald back of his head, tracing his fingers gently along the smooth, bare skin, and over the strap holding his glasses snug against his head. He told Marshall that when he and his uncle got to the barber shop they were the first customers, and that his uncle had been pleasantly surprised to see a second, younger barber now working alongside Al. The young barber got the whole story of how Uncle Santiago, after a 20 month-long deployment in the Middle East, had just moved back to town to be closer to his brother and his brother’s family, including his now favorite nephew.
When Al the barber asked Uncle Santiago to explain what he meant by "now favorite", his uncle told them about the deal he had made with Hank, a haircut and truck at a good price. Hank, trying not to laugh, elaborated and told the two barbers that his uncle was especially happy and proud because now everyone would know that they were related, since he was going to have shorter hair, and look more like his uncle. At this point, Al said it was time to stop yakking and start cutting some hair. Uncle Santiago had settled himself in the new barber’s chair after insisting that Al cut Hank’s hair. Hank remembered that Al had said something about how much he loved shearing off long pretty boy hair like Hank’s, and that he would be happy to tighten him up so that everyone knew these two men were related.

"I remember hearing the new barber asked Uncle Santi what they were doing today, and he replied the usual. I hadn’t seen my uncle in almost three years, what with his various deployments in Europe and in the middle east, so I really didn’t know or remember, or care, what the usual was," Hank told Marshall.

Hank hadn’t been able to hear his uncle’s explanation to the new barber of what he meant by "the usual" because Barber Al was standing in between the two chairs and had just turned on a massive pair of clippers and plunged them up the left side of Hank’s head. The unfamiliar buzzing was loud in his ear. Rich brown hair was falling onto the cape. According to Hank, Al then launched into a monologue about how exceptional he thought it was that a young man was willing to honor his uncle in such a bold way, with such a distinguished haircut. It was rare to see one on a civilian, claimed Al. He only had a handful of clients who wore one, and none of the guys were in high school, and all but one of them was military or ex-military. By this point Al’s clippers had stripped away all the hair on both sides and the back of Hank’s head, leaving only a plush brown thatch of hair on top.

"I reached out from under the cape to figure out what Al had done with the clippers, and felt only stubble all around," Hank said, keeping his eyes on Marshall, who had a broad grin on his face as Jerry scraped the straight razor a second time across his bald landing strip. Hank continued, "I was all ‘what the heck, Al’ but it was too late; he’d already plowed the clippers several times across the top of my head."
"It seems to me ya could have just let Al give ya a buzz, or an induction cut. Maybe even shave your head. Why’d ya let him go ahead with the high and tight flatty?" Jerry asked.
"Well, when Al explained that he had taken us literally, Uncle Santiago and me, about shorter hair and looking like we were family, I figured it was kinda my fault since Al didn’t know I was being sarcastic, mocking the whole thing a little bit," Hank confessed.
From the barber chair Marshall gave Hank another thumbs up and said, "Respect!"
"Yeah, that’s kinda where my head was at at this point; let’s show my uncle some respect. Besides, when he saw how far Al had progressed with mowing off all my hair, Santi just assumed I had asked Al for something super short, and he was so pumped," Hank said, his face lighting up with the memory. "At this point I was able to glance over at my uncle and the new barber and see where this cut was heading. Now I understood what Al had been talking about when he said severe, and that only military guys wore this haircut. My uncle was almost bald, it seemed to me. My stomach was a little queasy when I asked if the haircut had a name, other than "the usual", but I had to laugh when Santi piped up, pointing at himself and me, and said ‘Hank, my favorite nephew, it’s called our usual.’"

As Jerry was wrapping a cold towel around Marshall’s head to close his pores, Hank finished up his tale. He and his uncle had left the shop looking more alike than Hank had imagined, both of them sporting high and tight military style horseshoe flattops with straight razor-shaved sides, back and landing strips. Hank had felt a mixture of pride and confidence, thinking he actually looked pretty sharp and more mature than he had with his overly styled longer hair, along with some anxiety about what his boss and co-workers at the sporting goods shop would say, not to mention his friends at the high school. At first he made sure to tell everyone who even looked at him funny all about the truck his uncle sold him, and the misunderstanding at the barber shop, and that he liked short hair, but wasn’t going to keep it this short, no way! But soon all anxiety melted away, and Hank began to notice that he was also getting a lot of admiring looks, thumbs up, and smiles, mostly from guys with tight cuts of their own, and occasionally from guys with his same haircut, in and out of uniform. And at the same time he began thinking of it, and talking about it, as his haircut, Uncle Santiago texted him one Thursday afternoon: "Pick me up in your ride tomorrow morning 7:15. Our usual needs a two week tune-up." Hank texted back immediately: " See you 6:30! Breakfast at the diner, my treat, then the barber’s for maintenance on our usual." He liked being able to take his uncle to breakfast, now that he had a job, and a truck. Hank felt responsible; he was a guy with a purpose, a guy with a "usual haircut."

As he slowly spun the barber chair around so Marshall could see his new look in the shop mirrors, Jerry said, "Marshall, my man, I want to introduce you to the newest Majewski Scholar!"

As he put his metal-framed aviator glasses back on, Marshall broke into a broad, teeth-showing smile. He tilted his head downward so he could admire the wide, bald landing strip blending into the smooth bald back of his head. He slowly turned his head from side to side, approving the way the metal of his glasses gripped the smooth sides of his head. He nodded with satisfaction as he checked out the vast expanse of skin on the back of his head using the smaller mirror Jerry handed him. Brushing his hand slowly back and forth across the tight horseshoe of chestnut bristles that ringed the top of his head produced a small sigh of pleasure.

"I think I can tell what ya think of the cut, but..let me hear ya say what ya think of the cut," teased Jerry.

"I think the ‘usual’ looks freakin’ awesome, thank you!" Marshall answered, looking at both Jerry and Hank with a wink.
"Music to my ears, young man, music to my ears. Hank the Tank comes every other Friday, same time. I think it’s only appropriate that the two members of the ‘flattop-ers who drive an F-150 club’ get tightened up together, right men," Jerry said, giving Marshall a nudge in his shoulder.

"Yes sir! It’ll be cool to have a horseshoe flattop buddy to keep me on a maintenance schedule. I’m pretty sure none of my buddies at school are gonna be lining up for that job. Okay with you Mr. Lopez?" asked Marshall with an eager smile.
"It’s a deal, Marshall. And now I want to offer the winner of the Majewski Scholarship what I consider a pretty sweet gig."

Hank was a scientist for the paper plant in town, and he had a team of chemical engineers who worked with him. They were working on a multi-year project exploring safe, even more environmentally friendly ways to make and process paper. Usually they hired a couple of summer interns from the nearby college to work with the team, but as the scientist in charge, Hank had the authority to offer an internship to any qualified individual. He took some papers out of his briefcase and handed them to Marshall. If he could come by the plant after school that afternoon with the completed paperwork, and hear more about the project, meet the team, get his picture taken for his ID, and fill him in on his background and interest in chemistry, Hank was certain that Marshall would be on board for the summer.

"I should know for certain in a couple of weeks," Hank said, shaking Marshall’s hand. "We can get our flattops tightened up, and I can hand off your ID so you’ll be ready as soon as school ends."
"Man, sir, I don’t know what to say other than thank you so much for being a major part of the best day of my life," Marshall said with seriousness and sincerity, as he gripped Hank’s hand and looked him straight in the eye. "And you too, sir," he continued, turning around to give Jerry an equally firm handshake.
Marshall adjusted his brown corduroy blazer, then took an admiring look in the mirror. He ran his hand over his head again. He wondered if all the guys, even Mr. Lopez, who wore this bold, manly cut, ever got over the feel of the smooth bald skin blending into the short, crisp erect horseshoe of hair on top.
His thoughts were interrupted by Jerry. "Hey, Marshall, ya gotta go, man. Ya got years ahead of ya to admire your ‘usual’ cut, but don’t ya have an awards ceremony to attend, Majewski?"

To be continued…

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