Me, My Hair, and I Shawneda (top 10 non fiction books of all time TXT) 📖

3

I’d avoided Uncle Corey for two days. This morning I almost missed the bus trying to wait for him to leave so I can eat breakfast. Almost eggs and toast don’t taste good semi-warm. Some vegetarian food must be chewed piping hot from the pan. The text message I received on the bus let me know I’d stalled as long as possible. I recorded my first vlog for the Ask Tanya B bloggers today.

My hands felt sweaty as I unlocked the backdoor to the salon and snuck up past the empty chairs. Talking to a bunch of invisible strangers through a camera about my hair seemed silly. Yet, here I am, thanks to my inability to tell Aunt Tanya the truth.

Ms. Brielle waved hello as I made my way past the client waiting area to the stairwell. Aunt Tanya bought this place for a steal back when they were renovating Macon. Now she owned one of the hottest natural shops in the best districts in the city. People and realtors stopped by offering to buy the place at least once a month.

My legs carried me to my room faster than I planned to make the trip. Ms. Brielle told me she’d stay to do my makeup and hair for the vlog. Like this is a real television production or something. Not like I’m Ms. Maya Hatton, one of Aunt Tanya’s clients, who does the local news. She’s a celebrity. Even interviewed Chadwick Boseman from Black Panther for her special interview segments. I’m just a high school senior trying to win tickets to an ATeez concert and earn a scholarship for college so I can move out before I’m forty years old.

I changed out of my volleyball practice clothes to take a shower before changing into the outfit Ms. Brielle helped me pick out. Aunt Tanya has continued her silent protest. When I’m older and someone hurts my feelings, I’m going to talk to them. Silent treatment is stupid.

Showered, moisturized, and clothed, I took my time going back down to the salon. Ms. Brielle waved as she pushed the heavy duty dry sweeper cloth across the floor.

“Look who’s ready for her vlogging debut.” Ms. Brielle waved. “Give me a few moments. I’ll be right there.”

I nodded since the lump in my throat refused to budge. Did she see this frog squatting beneath my tonsils? No.

“Alright, you look great in the fit we selected.” Ms. Brielle patted the back of her stylist chair. “Let’s do this, Corey told me you’ve been avoiding him so I know you’re stalling, ma’am.”

My feet drug me across the floor. I felt my butt ease into the chair. I don’t remember how they moved against my will. The nerves jumbled together in my stomach matured to full-fledge knots of worry. Who cared how I wore my hair? “Thank you for helping me with my outfit.”

“You look, very pretty. I can still tell you’re nervous. And the camera will see as well.” Ms. Brielle motioned for me to close my eyes and tilt my head back. “Tell me what you plan to talk about today.”

Just when I wanted to rejoice for its existence, the frog betrayed me and slid down my throat to wherever tongue tying frogs reside. “Nothing too heavy or even interesting, in my opinion. Why I want to explore texturizers and protein treatments instead of natural hair. This is going to bore her readers so much we’re going to cancel doing it for next week.”

“Not a chance.” Ms. Brielle tilted my head less than an eighth of an inch and began applying something to my face. “You’re going to have to come off it. Tell the truth. You unleashed a world of hurt on Tanya in your IG comment. This is an opportunity to explain why you felt so trapped you didn’t ask her about this before offline.”

My nervousness subsided as anger began to dance around the bottom of my stomach. Hope miss throat frog survives blood boiling temperatures. “Not true. This is an attempt to make the best out of a bad situation. I’m not doing anything radical. I just want to consider a change for my hair.”

“Answer this question, JeShaun,” Ms. Brielle dusted something on the top of my eyelid. “What made you feel like you had to tell her that on social media instead of here in the salon? Over breakfast? Lunch? After dinner? She is very reasonable with a full stomach.”

My heart ached for the way things used to be between Aunt Tanya and I. “Not going to debate you on the full stomach. I don’t know. You make it seem like I planned this whole thing to sabotage her new product line. When the truth is, she pissed me off with her post as if I hadn’t told her I wanted to talk to her before the next photo shoot.”

“Oh, yeah. You did. I remember now.” Ms. Brielle changed the degree of my head tilt. I heard her open a jar. “Open your eyes so I can see please.”

I squinted as my eyes took a moment to adjust to the brightness from the window and overhead lights. “She acts as if I never made the request, too. Maybe she forgot. I just wanted to talk about my options for my hair since I’m going away to school next year. No college athlete has time to go to the salon for hours every week, keep grades up, practice, and learn something.”

“Stop stalling.” Ms. Brielle stood up away from my face. Her empty hand found its way to her hip. “Tell me what happened. You’ll feel better if you practice before your first vlog. Practice with me.”

I sighed. “Fine. I’d rather write a post, but whatever.”

“Stalling,” Ms. Brielle said in a sing-song voice.

I took a deep breath. “Keylisa and I have a good life here, Ms. Brielle. Our mother died. My Dad is in the wind, her Dad is a check with a pulse. No text messages. No