Page 71 of If You Claim Me
“This is one of my favorite stories!” Essie claps and hugs Rix’s arm.
“Same! So, my older brother Flip, who is Connor’s teammate and Dred’s bestie, decided he wanted a special haircut for grade nine picture day, and despite my lack of hair-cutting experience?—”
“—other than with our Barbies,” Essie chimes in.
“We thought we were so good,” Rix says.
“Bless our idiot selves.” Essie puts her hand over her heart. “We were awful.”
“So awful.” Rix smiles. “But Flip had misplaced faith that I could handle the task.”
“How old were you?” Hammer asks.
“Like, ten, right?” Rix looks to Essie for confirmation.
“About that, yeah.”
“I can’t believe Flip has never told me this story before,” I muse.
“Then you’d want to see his grade nine pictures.” Rix grins.
“Please tell me you have them.”
“Absolutely. I’m saving them for the photo slideshow at his wedding, if he ever gets married.”
“He’ll get married,” Tally pipes up.
Fee hides a smile behind her glass of soda.
Seems like that torch Tally has been carrying since high school is still burning brightly.
“How bad was the haircut?” Portia asks.
“So bad,” Rix replies.
“So, so bad. He looked like he’d gone a round with a weed eater and lost,” Essie adds.
“And then my mom came home.”
“You must have been in so much trouble,” Isabelle whispers.
Rix snorts a laugh. “My mom thought it was hilarious. It was Flip’s fault for encouraging me. After that, she taught me how to use the electric trimmer. He looked like a tennis ball for his photos. Ironically, or probably unsurprisingly, he rocked that buzz cut.”
Essie nods her agreement. “That was the year Flip got cute.”
“The girls were relentless after that.” Rix rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “He kept the buzz cut until winter, and then grew his hair back because Canadian winters aren’t kind.”
“Amen to that,” Hammer agrees.
Connor’s sister jumps in with a story of her own. “Portia and I tried to cut each other’s bangs once, too. Except our hair was dry.”
“Oooh, that’s a rookie mistake,” I say with empathy.
“It was so bad.” Isabelle turns to Portia. “Yours were better than mine.”
She grips her sister’s hand. “True, and I’m still sorry.”
“Remember when we begged Connor to help us fix it?” Isabelle smiles.
