Chapter 1

1 My mom always used to say, “A shaved head is the best hairstyle for a girl.”

Clean, simple, easy to manage.

And it keeps you from, you know, attracting the wrong kind of attention from boys.

Growing up, I always sported a bald head.

Yeah, I was used to the stares.

The summer after high school graduation, I threw a major fit.

I only just barely managed to convince her to let me grow my hair out.

Then, the night before I left for college, she snuck in while I was asleep and shaved my head again.

...

A bloodcurdling scream echoed from the bathroom that morning.

I stood there, clutching my newly-shaved scalp, feeling like I was gonna explode.

My mom, brandishing a spatula, stormed in from the kitchen.

"What in the Sam Hill are you yelling about? Do you want to wake up the whole neighborhood?"

She shoved me hard.

I stumbled forward, catching my stomach on the edge of the sink.

I didn't even feel the pain.

I spun around, screaming at her, "Why can't I have hair? Is it a crime to want hair? Do I have to die for you to be happy?"

She just snorted.

"Go ahead and die, drama queen! I've never seen a kid threaten her mom with suicide so much."

Her tone was so casual.

It felt like hitting a brick wall.

I remembered the last time I tried this.

I had a razor blade to my wrist.

I was close to hitting an artery.

That's when she finally caved, promising to leave my hair alone.

I thought I'd finally won.

All summer, I watched the stubble grow, fighting the itchiness.

I was excited about college.

I thought my parents loved me.

Maybe they just didn't realize how much this mattered to me.

I thought that maybe they would compromise.

But she didn’t care if I lived or died.

She just wanted to give me hope, then crush it.

Just to remind me that she was in control.

All the yelling woke up my dad.

He took one look at my head and frowned at Mom. "Didn't we say she could grow it out? What happened?"

"So what if I shaved it? It's for her own good!" Mom shot back.

"She's gonna be in ROTC! All that hair would be hot and sweaty! And she's never been the cleanest! It'll get gross."

Dad rubbed sleep out of his eyes, and as usual, tried to smooth things over.

"Okay, okay, settle down. Your mom's just looking out for you."

"Get ready to go, the flight leaves soon, you don’t want to miss it."

"Looking out for me? What do you call this?"

Dad's wishy-washy attitude hit me like a bucket of ice water.

I pointed at Mom's carefully styled hair.

"I'm eighteen years old! Can't I even decide what to do with my own hair? If bald is so great, why doesn't she shave hers?"

Smack!

Mom slapped me hard across the face.

"Chelsea, you're pushing it! I've worked my butt off for you, putting a roof over your head, feeding you, and you're gonna talk to me like that?"

"I've always told you, successful women make it on their skills, not their hair! It’s not a beauty contest!"

"Now you're suddenly obsessed with your hair? You just want to go off and find a boyfriend! Land a rich husband, that's what you want!"

Mom got even more worked up, grabbing my acceptance letter and threatening to rip it.

"Maybe you shouldn't go to college at all! Stay home and stop thinking of ways to attract boys!"

See, Mom had stolen my dad from her best friend back in the day.

Mom was fixated on money.

So, in her mind, all women were scheming.

Even her own daughter.

She always did this.

Whenever I stepped out of line, she'd zero in on what I cared about most and use it against me.

When I was six.

I didn’t want scrambled eggs because it made it hard to breath.

She tore up the math homework I'd spent all night on.

She even called my teacher and lied.

For six years, I stood beside the teacher’s desk, head shaved.

In eighth grade.

I refused to let her shave my head.

She cut up all the sanitary pads in the house.

I cried and begged, but she forced me to wear bloody pants to school.

Senior year.

I refused to use the used textbooks she bought.

She cut off my allowance.

If it wasn't for the free soup at school and handouts from teachers.

I would’ve starved.

And now this.

She knew how much college meant to me.

The day I got my acceptance letter, I didn't sleep a wink.

To go to college.

I had to beg for forgiveness.

"Mom, I'm sorry! It was a mistake! I was just being stupid!"

"Please, don't rip up the letter! I won't talk back! I get it!"

I don't know how many times I hit my head on the floor.

Finally, she tossed the letter at me.

"Fine, go pack."

Still shaking, I tried to stand, needing someone to help me.

Dad was at the table, eating breakfast.

To punish me.

Mom took all the money I’d earned from tutoring.

She cut my allowance to almost nothing.

And she took all my hats and scarves.

She wanted me to start college with a bald head.

She wanted me to be a joke.