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head.
    Aha! Just as I had always suspected! She was a dead ringer for Tino Martinez!
    Grandma wasn’t a very good sport about it. She yanked my cap off her head and threw it on the floor.
    Man, was her blue hair ever a mess! Now she looked like Don King, that boxing promoter guy. I tried to help her smooth it, but she swatted my hand away. Not before I noticed the bald spot, though. Right at the top of her head, Grandma had a little bald spot.
    I offered to let her put my cap on to hide it, but she left the table in a huff. I knew exactly how shefelt. My barber, Mr. Peoples, has given me more bald spots than I can even count.
    I’ll never forget the time he made my head look like a cue ball. Looking back, it was probably my own fault, though. As soon as I walked in his shop that day, it was obvious that Mr. Peoples was not in a good mood. And it’s a well-known fact that when barbers are feeling down, they give kids funny haircuts to cheer themselves up.
    That’s why I always try to find out how Mr. Peoples is feeling before I sit down in the chair. But on this particular day, it didn’t do me any good at all.
    “Hello, Mr. Peoples,” I said pleasantly. “How are you feeling today? Arthritis acting up? Problems with the wife?”
    Mr. Peoples frowned. “Get in the chair, Alex. I’m tired. My feet hurt. And I’m not in the mood for your jokes.”
    Right away, I started backing out of his shop.
    “Okie-doke. Well, nice chatting with you, Mr. P. I think I hear my mother calling me from the parking lot. I’ll come back another day when your feet are feeling better.”
    Mr. Peoples pointed to the chair. “Sit!” he ordered.
    Mr. Peoples has known me since I was two, so he feels comfortable bossing me around like that.
    I hesitated. “I don’t know, Mr. Peoples. Are you sure? I mean, are you positive you want me to sit down? Because if you’re upset about something, I would be happy to leave you alone to gather your thoughts.”
    This time, his face got totally red. “I said
sit!”
he blustered.
    Nervously, I climbed into the big vinyl seat. A man holding scissors is not a man to mess with.
    “Well, okay then, Mr. Peoples. But I really don’t need a big haircut today. Mostly all I need is a little trim. Just a little bit off the sides and that’s all.”
    Mr. Peoples didn’t hear a word I said. He was too busy plugging in his electric clippers.
    “No, wait, Mr. Peoples,” I said quickly. “I really don’t think you’ll be needing the clippers today. I just need a trim, remember?”
    His mood wasn’t getting better. “Who’s the barber here, Alex, you or me?”
    That’s when I decided to be quiet. If there was one thing I didn’t want to do, it was to make the guy any grouchier than he already was.
    Mr. Peoples took his scissors and began snipping at my hair. No, wait … snipping is the wrong word. The word is
hacking
. Mr. Peoples started
hacking
at my hair.
    “Whoa, you’re really going to town there, aren’t you, Mr. P.? It’s getting kinda short, don’t you think?” I asked.
    That’s when Mr. Peoples picked up the clippers and began buzzing all around the back of my head. Before I had a chance to protest, he was already heading up toward my left ear.
    Then all of a sudden, he stopped cold.
    “Whoopsie!” he said.
    My stomach turned over inside of me. Of all the words you don’t ever want to hear your barber say,
whoopsie
is right at the top of the list.
    “Whoopsie?
Did you say
‘whoopsie,’
Mr. Peoples?
Whoopsie
, as in a mistake has just occurred up there?”
    I looked in the mirror and turned my head. That’s when I saw the “whoopsie.” It was a large round bald spot right over my left ear.
    Mr. Peoples brushed the area lightly with his fingers. “Looks like this haircut might be a little bit shorter than you wanted it, Alex. But at least it will be nice and cool for the summer.”
    My eyes opened wide. “The summer?” I said. “The summer? This is March, Mr. Peoples.