CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED and EIGHTY-THREE
(part one)

Saturday afternoon — 4:15 P.M.

“You seem happy today,” Sandy said.

Standing behind Sissy at a station in her salon, Sandy ran a comb through Sissy’s long hair. Noelle was sitting behind them with aluminum foils in her hair. Charlie sat at the station next to them with a cloud of warm, eucalyptus-drenched towels over his face. Teddy and Nash were playing video games while they waited their turn. Rachel was sound asleep in her crib in the back.

“I had a good day,” Sissy said. “Don’t tell anyone but it’s actually kind of nice not to be dancing all the time.”

Sandy smiled.

“You won’t tell will you? I don’t want them to think I’m not committed,” Sissy said. “It’s just nice to take a break.”

“Everyone needs a break now and then,” Sandy said. “What are we doing with your hair? A trim, for sure.”

Sandy held up an inch of the end of Sissy’s hair.

“How long has it been?” Sandy asked.

“Since the beginning of the summer,” Sissy said.

“What have you been doing to your hair?” Sandy asked.

“It’s the heat. Blow drying. Curling,” Sissy said. “That’s what you used to say.”

“The life of a ballerina is fraught with split ends,” Sandy said.

Sissy laughed.

“Anything else? Sandy asked. “Something pretty for school?”

“What did Noelle get?” Sissy asked.

“Pink,” Sandy said. “Along the back. But you’re going to high school.”

“I want pink too,” Sissy said. “But not all of it.”

“Just underneath?” Sandy asked.

“So you can see it like a peppermint candy when I put it up in a bun,” Sissy said.

“What will Ivan say?” Sandy asked.

“I don’t know,” Sissy said. “Mrs. Anjelika is mad at Ivan. She doesn’t want me to dance with him anymore.”

“She told me,” Sandy said. “I wanted to ask you about it.”

“Why me?”

“Because it’s really up to you,” Sandy said. “It’s your career, your time, your dancing.”

“Oh,” Sissy said.

“Why don’t you think about it while we get your hair washed?” Sandy asked. She nodded to her assistant. “Can you give her the deep conditioning treatment? Her hair is pretty dry.”

Sandy’s assistant took Sissy to the back to wash her hair and Sandy moved over to Charlie.

“How’s the soak going?” Sandy asked.

“Why does my face hurt?” Charlie asked.

“Dad was pretty hairy,” Sandy said. “I don’t know about Patty’s Dad but I bet he was too. You’re going to have a full beard in a few years.”

“But why does it hurt?”

“Just the hair going through the skin,” Sandy said. “The heat helps. Shaving helps. You’ll get through it.”

“Gives me pimples,” Charlie said. “I hate that.”

“You’re doing great,” Sandy said. “The products we’re using are helping. The treatments are helping. You can barely tell. What do we want to do with your hair?”

Charlie didn’t say anything.

“If you don’t say anything I’ll cut it all off.” Sandy flipped through his mop of shoulder length hair. Charlie didn’t say anything. “Ok, but don’t be mad later.”

Denver Cereal continues tomorrow…

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