J.D. and the Great Barber Battle

by J. Dillard

  “But I’ll tell you a secret,” Mom said. “Back when I ran track, I sometimes used to feel like throwing up before a big race! But then I’d envision myself crossing the finish line first and everyone cheering, and that helped me keep calm.”

  That’s how I felt now. Like throwing up!

  “Even worse,” Mom continued, “when I was training to be a nurse, the first time I had to draw blood from someone’s arm, I was so afraid that I would hit the wrong vein and the patient would die! Is there any chance someone’s going to die while you cut their hair today?”

  “No, Mom, there isn’t,” I said, laughing. I could tell she was joking.

  Mom could be really funny sometimes.

  “Then don’t be nervous. Just look out at the crowd and imagine everyone clapping for YOU!”

  * * *

  »»««

  The plan was for me and Henry Jr. to select our own hair models. We’d each gotten three different kids to grow their hair out to the same length.

  But when I arrived, Mrs. Holiday threw us a curveball.

  “Hello Henry Jr. and J.D.!” she greeted us outside the shop.

  “I had the best idea last night! Wouldn’t it be more fun and exciting if I picked one of the models?!” She seemed so pleased with her idea, but I didn’t like it one bit.

  “That way it will be fairer,” she continued. “Every now and then my beauty school students practice on local kids, and I called two of them in.”

  Then she directed her attention to me.

  “If you want to be a great barber one day, J.D., you’re going to have to know how to cut ALL types of hair!”

  All types of hair? The only hair I had cut that was not like mine was my friend Xavier’s. What did Mrs. Holiday have in mind? Was I supposed to know how to cut girl hair, too? Or straight hair? I had planned on using Xavier, Eddie, and Jordan as my models. I already knew how to cut their hair.

  I couldn’t tell what Henry Jr. thought of the new rule. His face looked kind of blank. He probably wasn’t worried because, at the end of the day, he had years of experience.

  Was there a chance I could lose in front of all my family and friends?

  CHAPTER 19

  The Barber Competition

  As worried as I felt on the inside, on the outside, I looked as clean as a star at his movie premiere. At least as clean as I could with my best church shirt and shoes. I brought a jar of candy for the audience and made sure that Jordan, with all of his gadgets, was able to play music and set up a microphone for Mr. and Mrs. Holiday.

  Hart and Son only had two barber chairs and one small bench for the people who were waiting. I got permission from my gym teacher to bring a bunch of folding chairs, but there still weren’t enough seats for everyone.

  The only time I had performed in front of a crowd by myself was during the school Christmas play in second grade when I played Joseph. I dropped the fake baby Jesus when I was handing the doll to the girl who played Mary and everyone laughed. Being on stage in front of people was nothing like being on the football team when no one could even tell who you were!

  People gathered outside the barbershop with some pressing their noses against the glass. Jordan quickly hooked up his sound system so folks could hear the announcements outside.

  It felt like a tailgate party at Tuskegee University.

  My entire family sat in the front row like a line of ducks dressed in their Sunday finest. They were next to Henry Sr. and Henry Jr.’s wife and two little kids. I noticed all of my friends, especially Jessyka sitting by her mom. She waved, flashing her bright blue fingernails, and walked up to me.

  “You’ll crush it, J.D. Just like I did in football last game.” Before she went back to her seat, she added, “And when my mom sees you cut hair, I know she’ll let you cut my bangs.”

  That’s just what I needed to hear!

  I saw Justin fussing on my mom’s lap and decided to go calm him. Vanessa was there, too, and she had this weird look in her eyes. I couldn’t tell if she was happy for me, jealous, or nervous. But then she grabbed my arm.

  “You got this, J.D.,” she said.

  Next to her, Grandma and Granddad matched for the occasion, with Grandma in a powder-blue church hat and Granddad in a powder-blue tie. They both smiled at me.

  Everyone I cared about had come out to cheer me on.

  A photographer from the Meridian City Times took a photo of me and Henry Jr. for the newspaper. The flash was so bright, I felt dizzy!

  Just then, Mrs. Holiday’s voice crackled over the speaker.

  “Welcome, everyone, to Meridian’s first barber battle!” Mrs. Holiday announced. Me and Henry Jr. got into our stations.

  “Give it up for our brave and talented contestants, Mr. Henry Hart Jr. and Little Mr. J. D. Jones!”

  Mrs. Holiday paused for applause. I tried to imagine that all the cheers were for me, just like Mom said.

  “Now, the competition is best two out of three. My husband and I will serve as the professional judges, but everyone is allowed to participate by using the numbers underneath your seats. You can rate the haircuts from one to five, five being the best and one being, well, not so good.”

  She rolled up her sleeves. Mrs. Holiday reminded me of the gymnast Simone Biles in the nylon tracksuit she always wore to keep from getting dirty with hair supplies.

  “Now give it up for our hair models! Let’s hope they all go home happy!”

  Xavier, Eddie, and this kid from church named Steve walked out. Steve’s parents were strict, even stricter than my family, so he was not in football or any extracurricular activities. How was I going to cut all his hair?!

  I did not know Henry Jr.’s models very well either. Maybe they were his relatives from another town over? Two of them had small Afros and Mrs. Holiday’s “wild card” model was another kid with a long, bushy Afro. Mrs. Holiday mentioned that her models grew out their hair for the battle!

  “Okay, let’s begin,” Mrs. Holiday said.

  Our styling tool of choice was a set of clippers with a guard—no shears. We’d have thirty minutes to complete each style before clippers down.

  “My husband, Billy, or Mr. Holiday to all of you, will kick things off by pulling the first style out of the hat.”

  Mr. Holiday, a short and burly man, walked over to the hat and pulled out a piece of paper.

  “The first style is . . . a fade!”

  Our clippers buzzed on. I worked on Eddie’s head and felt less nervous as I concentrated on the haircut. But I could sense that Henry Jr. was working faster than me. How many hundreds of basic fades had he cut over his lifetime?!

  “Clippers down!” I heard Mrs. Holiday say.

  Out the side of my eye, I saw her whispering to Mr. Holiday. Henry Jr. had finished before me and it looked pretty good. Mine was good, too, but the back edge was a little unfinished.

  “We must give this round to Mr. Henry Jr.! What does the crowd think?”

  When Mrs. Holiday asked the crowd to rate Henry Jr.’s fade, he got mostly fours and fives. I got mostly fours. The only fives were from my family!

  Mrs. Holiday pulled the next style out of the hat herself and addressed the crowd.

  “Our next haircut is . . . a pompadour!”

  I heard the crowd shift in their seats. Not everybody seemed to know what that was, but I did! Celebrities like Miguel, Bruno Mars, and Janelle Monáe had all tried their own versions of pompadours.

  Luckily, Xavier was up next in my chair. All I needed to do was add the right styling product and then edge up his sides.

  Henry Jr. was trying to straighten his model’s hair, but he didn’t finish in time to make the edges neat.

  The Holidays whispered to each other again.

  “We think the winner of this round is J.D.!”

  This time the crowd gave me
mostly fives and fours and Henry Jr. got threes, twos, and even a couple ones!

  “For this competition’s last style,” Mrs. Holiday said, “could I please have Henry Sr., the longtime owner of this shop, come to the front to make the selection?”

  Henry Sr. unfolded his long, sticklike legs and reached his wiry hand into the upside-down baseball cap.

  “Hi-top fade!” he yelled out. “Dunno what in the world that is, but good luck, boys.” Henry Sr. shuffled back to his chair.

  I knew exactly what a hi-top fade was. I wasn’t so sure that Henry Jr. did. Either way, we were both cutting the hair of a new client for the first time.

  Henry Jr. calmly buzzed off the bushy ponytail of the kid in his chair. He was already ahead!

  My clippers buzzed as I shaved off Steve’s ponytail, but as soon as his hair hit the floor, my clippers stopped working! I heard a few gasps from the crowd, and my mom covered her mouth with her hand.

  I walked over to my bag and whipped out my uncle’s backup clippers. I’d never used them before, but if I wanted to win, I had to think back to what Mom said on our car ride—we Joneses never give up.

  The good thing about Steve having so much hair was that I could really do something extra special with my hi-top fade, like a slightly uneven look with one side higher.

  I stole a quick glance at Henry Jr. It looked like he was trying to copy me!

  Back on Steve’s head, I was feeling pretty good about what I was doing. I focused on the haircut the way I did when I got sucked into my drawings.

  Even if I lost, I wanted to make sure I did a good job and everyone knew I could cut hair just as good as Henry Jr. That was important to me.

  CHAPTER 20

  The Winner?

  “Clippers down!” Mrs. Holiday said into the microphone.

  Thirty minutes after Henry Sr. announced the style we had to cut, the last competition was over. The clean R&B music Jordan had been playing for us through the sound system stopped. I put my clippers down and looked at my work. I had cut the word “Winner” into the back of Steve’s head and traced the outline of the words with my gold art pencil. I felt so proud.

  I started dusting the extra hair off Steve’s shoulders and spun him around to face the crowd.

  Henry Jr. spun his model around, too . . . but the crowd gasped, and not in a good way.

  Instead of an even hi-top fade, Henry Jr. had somehow cut the top of his model’s hair into a U shape. It looked like someone had bitten the top of the kid’s head, as if it were a hamburger.

  Mrs. Holiday walked over to her husband hesitantly. They started whispering again, and I could tell they were in shock.

  “Well now,” she said. “We think the clear winner is J.D. for this round.”

  Everyone in the crowd gave me fives. Even Henry Sr. held up a score of five, before his daughter-in-law smacked the card out of his hands.

  “And the winner of the entire competition is Mr. James Jones, everybody!”

  I had won. I was the Master Barber of Meridian! Henry Jr. had to leave me alone. He had to keep his promise.

  I looked out at the crowd. My family was clapping loudly, and some people were even chanting “Go, J.D.!”

  I felt amazing.

  But then I saw how sad Henry Jr.’s family looked. His wife was on the verge of tears!

  That didn’t feel so great.

  CHAPTER 21

  A Real Job

  After the competition, I got right back to my regularly scheduled programming of cutting hair in my bedroom.

  Only this time, I had a line and had to take appointments, unlike before when it was first come, first served.

  I started charging five dollars a pop. Shouldn’t an award-winning barber make more than three bucks?

  I was raking in the dough on Saturdays, cutting hair morning, noon, and night. The only problem was that I didn’t even have time to spend it! Instead, Jordan, Eddie, Xavier, and a couple of other guys from the team enjoyed the riches. They’d eat candy and play video games while I cut twenty heads!

  20 clients x $5.00 = $100.00

  With so many kids in my room, it turned into an oven, so we moved the whole operation outside. I cut hair on my porch, and all the extra hair blew into our lawn.

  “J.D.!” my grandmother yelled. “Don’t you know all that hair in the grass attracts birds?!”

  She was mad.

  “Who is going to clean it up and who are all these kids coming in and out the house at all times of day?”

  “I made a hundred dollars cash today, Grandma,” I said.

  The tone of Grandma’s voice changed.

  “Well, good boy, save your money. But try to figure out a way to cut hair without disrupting this house,” she said. “And now you can pay me back for all the toilet paper you took.”

  In bed that night, I thought about my $100. If I could get out of church on Sundays, or at least get out of church EARLY on Sundays, I could get more. How many clients would I need to make $200 a weekend?

  $200 ÷ $5 = 40 clients

  The next day, Mom surprised us after church in the parking lot.

  “Guess what, J.D.?” Mom beamed. “I got an A on my last management exam. That means I can graduate ahead of time!”

  I gave my mom a BIG hug.

  “Whoa, Mom! Does this mean you can apply for that job now?”

  “Yes, I think so,” she said.

  The Joneses were doing great things.

  To celebrate, Grandma and Granddad took us to the new buffet restaurant in town. I was so excited! I loved my mom’s and grandma’s cooking, but we NEVER, EVER ate out! This was something special.

  Mom even said we could bring a friend, her treat.

  “I want to bring Xavier!” I said.

  “I’m taking Jessyka!” Vanessa added.

  “Miles Morales!” Justin shouted. Mom didn’t say the friend had to be real!

  The New Meridian Buffet had only been open a few weeks. It still had a Grand Opening sign outside lined with colorful flags.

  Whenever anything new came to Meridian, everyone went. Black, white, rich, poor—it was always an event.

  My family each got their plates, and Xavier handed us kids ours. When he got to Jessyka, I heard him say something to her softly.

  “Say, Jess, can I ask you a question?”

  “Only my dad calls me Jess, Xavier, but you can ask me a question,” Jessyka responded.

  “Do you think I could practice running routes with you and your dad before school?” he asked.

  Jessyka gave a side smile.

  “We get up at six in the morning to play catch in my backyard. Are you sure you want to come over that early?”

  Xavier seemed to nod with his whole body, not just his head. I was glad to see my friends on the same team for once.

  We loaded our plates with delicious food and made our way to our table.

  The New Meridian Buffet was crowded, so it wasn’t that surprising to see Henry Jr. there. What was surprising was when he walked over to us.

  Suddenly, my macaroni and cheese felt like a wet, floppy fish—the kind I caught when I went fishing with Xavier and his dad.

  CHAPTER 22

  Let’s Make a Deal

  * * *

  “Oh, hi there, Mr. Henry,” my mom said. “It’s nice to see you again. We’re just here celebrating that I’m almost done with school.”

  “More school, Ms. Jones? I see where your son gets his smarts.” Henry Jr. nodded slightly at me and crouched by my seat.

  “Hey, James,” he said. “I have a proposal for you. Business is down, and I can’t lose my shop. It’s been a part of this town forever!”

  I looked at Henry Jr. intently.

  “I’m asking right here, in front of your whole family, to get your
mom’s and grandparents’ permission. I know you have peewee football practice in the fall during the week and church on Sundays. Why don’t you consider coming to work for me on Saturdays?”

  He had tried to shut me down before with the health inspector. He had tried to take away something that means so much to me.

  Even so, I couldn’t help feeling sorry for Henry Jr. Between my grandparents, church, weekly Bible study, and my mom, I knew I had to always TRY to be nice, even if someone had been unkind to me first.

  “Well, we’ll see Mr. Hart,” I told him.

  I decided I’d sleep on it. But first, I was going to enjoy the night with my family, celebrating my mom. I couldn’t wait to watch her walk across the stage and graduate again.

  * * *

  »»««

  Monday was my only night free from choir practice, peewee football, and Bible study, so that’s when I went down to Hart and Son.

  Henry didn’t close shop until eight o’clock at night. I sat on his waiting bench, watching and watching and watching. No one came in after Henry Jr.’s last customer, so he decided to close early, at six o’clock. I guess business really was slow.

  Henry Jr. looked into his tip jar to take inventory.

  A tip jar. Why hadn’t I thought of that?

  “Thanks for coming, J.D.,” Henry Jr. said.

  He sat down in his barber chair looking like a squashed tomato.

  “Now, look, I can’t let my dad’s legacy close on my watch,” he said. “I want to propose something that lets us both win.”

  I had my own ideas of how we could both “win,” but I let Henry Jr. go first.

  “How much do you charge for cuts at your house, J.D.?” Henry Jr. asked.

  “Three dollars before I won the competition. Five dollars after,” I said.

  Henry Jr. smirked. I think he was impressed by my business sense.