Fifteen Love Read Online Free PDF Page B

hair looks okay. Shorter than I wanted, but okay. Good enough. Ricki trims the hairs on the back of my neck. He’s finishing up. I’m almost in the clear. He neatens the sides, but then, before I know it, he’s shaving up and around my ears! I feel the buzz of the shears against my skull. Ricki is giving me a mohawk!
    . . . Just a trim, thanks . . . Just a trim, thanks . . .
    In desperation, I try tilting my head away, but Ricki simply pushes it back up again.
    â€˜What do you think?’ he asks when he’s done.
    I nod, and in the mirror the guy with the brain-surgery haircut nods grimly back at me.
    MIA
    â€˜I hate my hair!’
    â€˜Mia! You don’t mean that.’
    â€˜Yes I do. It’s driving me crazy. I feel like getting it all cut off.’
    Vanessa looks horrified. ‘Don’t even joke about it. You have gorgeous hair!’
    Renata agrees. ‘I wish I had your hair, Mia.’
    â€˜It’s all dry and frizzy. This morning when I woke up, there were at least five strands on my pillow! I swear, I’m going bald!’
    â€˜Mushrooms,’ says Vanessa. ‘You have to eat more mushrooms.’
    â€˜I don’t like mushrooms. Do you know where those things are grown?’
    â€˜How about wheatgerm and honey, as a conditioner?’
    â€˜Sure. So I wake up screaming in the night, being attacked by a swarm of ants.’
    â€˜Eggs.’
    â€˜Too stinky.’
    â€˜Tofu.’
    â€˜Tofu?’
    â€˜Yeah. I’m not sure what you’re meant to do with it, though.’
    I am kneeling beside the ironing board while Renata combs my hair into place. Vanessa licks her index finger and it sizzles as she touches the hot iron.
    â€˜Ready?’ she says.
    â€˜Do I really need this?’
    â€˜Mia! Ironing your hair is like ironing your clothes. No one likes wrinkles.’
    Vanessa presses the iron down on my hair and a shot of hot steam scorches my scalp. I scream out in pain and Renata shrieks in sympathy. When I look up at Vanessa, she’s smiling her most sheepish smile.
    â€˜Woops,’ she says, switching the iron from steam back to wool .
    WILL
    When my little brother Dave sees my haircut, he laughs himself stupid.
    â€˜What happened, Will? Did you have a fight with a lawnmower?’
    â€˜Good one, Dave.’
    â€˜And the lawnmower won, Will!’
    â€˜Looks like it, Dave.’
    â€˜The lawnmower won, Will! The lawnmower won!’
    Dave doesn’t mean any harm by it. It’s just his crazy sense of humour. Four years ago, when he was nine years old, Dave dived into a swimming pool and hit his head on the bottom. He’s a paraplegic now, so he’s stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. It’s good that he still has a sense of humour. Laughing is probably what keeps him sane.
    A lot of people who meet Dave think there must be something wrong with him – more than just his legs, I mean. There were doctors who said the damage to his spine had affected him mentally and others who said his brain was still okay. The way Dave thinks and acts is pretty different from other kids his age. But there’s nothing wrong with him. Since his accident, a part of Dave has stayed the same. He’s thirteen now, but it’s like a part of him is still nine years old. When some people meet Dave they feel really sorry for him, which is pretty stupid. The truth is, he’s happier than most people I know.
    Dave is reading The Encyclopedia of Tennis from cover to cover. I don’t know how much of it he actually reads, but he certainly enjoys talking about it.
    â€˜Will! Will! I’m up to Bjorn Borg! I read Boris Becker and now I’m up to Bjorn Borg! It’s got all about him! He was the best, Will! He was heaps better than you!’
    â€˜No way, Dave! I could beat Bjorn Borg blindfolded. I could beat him in straight sets: 6-0, 6-0, 6-0.’
    â€˜You COULD NOT , Will! You’re a liar,