Becoming Summer
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Summary
When I was five, I asked my mom why I didn’t look like anyone else.
In our small, isolated town deep in the mountains, everyone had dark hair and dark eyes. Mine was the color of straw.
My mother looked at me, her face blank. She didn’t say a word. She just picked up a pair of scissors and shaved my head until it was bare.
From then on, I was the only bald kid in town.
Two weeks later, I found a slip of paper she’d hidden in the woodpile behind our shack. It had a phone number on it. Barefoot, I ran to the payphone at the town’s only gas station and dialed.
