The look the barber gave me was not one to inspire confidence.

Forty-seven with a thick Russian accent and burly arms wrapped in what I could only refer to as sweaters made of hair, Misha took one glance at my hair and spat out a single word.

"Girl."

Behind me, April snorted into her palm.

I spared her a glare in the mirror before returning my attention to Misha.

"I know, I let it run long–"

"Like tiny, infant girl," he said, going so far as to yank my hair to test its length. "Your hair very durable."

"Thank you..." I trailed off as Misha procured a pair of scissors out of nowhere and suddenly sliced a large portion of my hair off. April let out a small gasp as the strands fell to the shop floor. I watched them go with a frown.

"I make you like boy. Very neat, very durable." Misha announced, not awaiting my response before cutting my hair. "You will look like Misha."

The guy did have nice hair. Clean, not too short, but he also had bangs which was definitely not what I wanted.

"No bangs."

"You want bangs?"

"No, I– Jesus, no bangs, Misha. Just... make it short, please."

"You sure you don't want bangs? Might make Mom nostalgic if you came home with a bowl cut again," April piped up, wide grin on her lips.

"Don't you have boys to stalk and Billie Eilish songs to listen to while pretending to have no self-esteem?"

"Rude, Bow-Bow," she scowled, but shoved her headphones in nonetheless until it was time for us to go a half-hour later.

Misha had done a good job, not that I was an expert in hair, but the sudden coolness against my neck made me tug on the beanie I had brought along with me as April and I walked home. It was when we reached the corner store that April started to complain she was hungry.

"You can wait until we get home, April," I told her and she groaned, hugging her stomach as though any minute now her spleen would burst through.

"I'm starting to realize why you hate pasta so much. It's all we have in the fridge at home and I don't think I can make myself eat it. Plus this place looks good," she said, nodding to a storefront a few feet away.

It was only when I read the sign that I realized we had ended up outside Spencer's work.

"Beau," April called, already heading through the door. "I forgot my wallet so you're buying."

"Is there one person in this family with their own money?" I huffed, shouldering my way inside and dragging April to the counter. A girl at the till smiled up at me, though it dimmed when she caught my confused look. She wore the deli's signature white shirt, pulled taut across her chest, and her silver dyed hair was pulled away from her face, showing off wide eyes and bright teeth.

Where was Spencer?

"Hi, can I help you?" she asked and I honed in the name tag.

Debbie.

I vaguely remembered the name being mentioned before but I couldn't remember why.

"We'll take two turkey on wholewheat. No mustard on one of them and extra mayo on the other. Also half a pound of sliced beef to go," I ordered before turning to my sister. "Trust me, April, you'll love this stuff."

"I'm guessing you come here a lot?" she said as I slid my card to Debbie who cheerfully wrung me up.

"Spencer normally works here."

That perked April up.

Preening, she sent me a wide-eyed smile. "Spencer works here?"

"Yeah, I just said that," I replied, pushing her shoulder and pointing to a booth in the back. "Go grab a seat and wait for the food. I'll be right back."

Taking my card back I stepped outside the store, pushing my hands into the pocket of my jacket to fight against the wind. The weather had been so temperamental the past few days, finally settling back on cold and somewhat miserable. Unsurprisingly I found Spencer squatted on an old crate, smoking, scrolling animately on his phone.

"Working hard I see," I called out, bumping the crate with the toe of my foot.

Spencer took a second to glance up, offering a smile before he took a long pull of his cigarette and tucked his phone back into his pocket.

"I'll have you know I've been an incredibly productive employee this past week. Some lunatic came in a few days ago and basically bought out the store," he smirked, kicking over another empty crate my way for me to sit on.

"I'm sure he had his reasons," I smirked back and Spencer rolled his eyes.

"Definitely, the guy couldn't live without me. Sandwiches were just a ploy to stay in my presence." Spencer winked, tapping the ash onto his crates edge as I sat down. I shifted a little, trying to get comfortable, before sitting on my hands when the fidgeting became too much.

"I can't stay long, April's waiting inside and will pitch a fit if I make her eat alone. It's some weird issue, I wouldn't get into it," I said.

"Nobody's asking you to stay, Beau," Spencer grinned then bumped my foot. "Quit pouting, I was only messing with you. I should head inside, though, make sure Debbie hasn't burned the place down."

"Debbie seemed rather competent when taking my order."

"Oh god, why didn't you wait for me to come out?" He said, taking another drag before stubbing out the cigarette. I watched him exhale slowly, the way the muscles in his neck relaxed, slow to respond.

"I didn't know if you were working. I don't have your schedule memorised. A lunatic would do that."

"Like the guy I mentioned earlier, the one who bought all those sandwiches."

"Exactly, he would've known your schedule to the letter."

"He probably knows where I take my breaks too, would probably interrupt my one chance at having a smoke in peace."

"You have a pretty extensive profile on the guy. Why haven't you reported him to your mother yet?" I said, standing up as Spencer pushed his own crate back against the wall.

"Can't remember what he looks like, almost as if the guy got a hair cut or something." Spencer mused, handing darting out to shove my beanie off my head.

"Hey!" I yelled, ducking to grab the fabric from the ground as Spencer laughed. "Asshole."

"What, no! I'm not laughing at you. I was wondering if you actually cut it or had it all hidden inside the hat." he explained, stepping forward enough to push a hand along my newly cut hair. "Looks nice."

"Thanks," I managed to say back as Spencer stepped away. "Russian hairdresser."

"Fun," he laughed, punching my shoulder playfully. "Okay, let's head inside and see if I can fix any damages Debbie has inflicted on your order. Run it by me."

"What, the order?"

"No, your history assignment. Yes, your sandwich order." Spencer teased, leading the way back to the store's front.

"I got us both turkey,"

"Okay good, easier to carve. Smart choice. Lean, so even if she fucks up it shouldn't be too bad."

"No mustard for April and extra mayo for me,"

"Damn, see, now you've made it complicated. What bread?"

"Wholewheat."

"Worse kind of bread, that's just personal preference."

"Okay then, what's the best kind of bread then?" I asked, holding the door open for him.

"Oh that's a second date kind of question, pace yourself, Beau," he teased. "Anything else? No weird salad choices?"

"I asked for some beef to take home, since I remembered that this wasn't just a sandwich shop."

"Which means she probably overcharged you. Alright come with me to the counter and I'll fix everything," he sighed, beckoning as he slipped to Debbie's side just as she finished wrapping a sandwich. "What're these Deb?"

"Beef and mayo, extra mustard," she said, pointing at one. To the other she announced, "Beef and mustard, no mayo."

Offering me a wink she hefted a plastic-wrapped bag onto the counter. "Pound of turkey."

"I think it's time for your break now, Deb. Don't worry, I can take over," Spencer said, smiling at her as she removed her apron and walked out, throwing me a wave as she did.

"How does she have a job here?" I asked, eyes following her as she disappeared around the corner into the back.

"Boss's niece."

"Oh right, Soda girl!" I exclaimed, finally remembering why her name sounded so familiar. Spencer looked at me like I was crazy but chose not to comment.

"I'll start on the new sandwiches. Though feel free to take home those train wrecks," he said, nodding at the lumps on his workbench.

"I'm good." I smiled, taking a seat on a stool as Spencer went to pull open the bag of turkey. At the last second he paused, breaking into a wry smile.

"Good news, Debbie likes you. New haircut seems to be working," Spencer laughed, turning the bag of meat towards me to show Debbie had in fact written what appeared to be her number on the printed label.

"Oh," I said, glancing toward the back room as if she would suddenly appear again. "Not sure what gave her the impression I was interested."

"Everyone's interested in Debbie." Spencer snorted and I fixed him a look.

"Even you?"

"Not falling into that trap, let me backpedal a bit," he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Everyone, who is single, likes Debbie. As much as I hate her at work, she's a nice girl. Pretty too. You should take her to the Decades Dance."

Shit, I had totally forgotten about the dance at the end of the month. Every year to raise money for the gyms renovations the school held a Decades Dance. It was tacky, incredibly low budget, with the most awful soundtrack but Clark and some of the other guys on the baseball team always sold alcohol in the bathrooms and partook in the yearly tradition of streaking across the back field until the Vice Principal was sent to reprimand them. So far none of them had gotten caught, as athletic teens and an overweight woman in heels did not make for an even playing field.

"I'm probably not going to that," I told him, then corrected myself, "Actually I don't think I'm even allowed to attend, given all the shit that happened with Barkers."

"Sucks, you're like the only person at school I talk to, bar Tommo and Izzy of course."

"I'm sure you have other friends," I said, stopping myself from asking who Izzy was. I hadn't heard about her before and cautioned on that basis she wasn't a part of the Snowed White crew. "Obviously, they're nowhere near as interesting as me, but they'll make do for one night."

"I was going to take Gillian but her exams start early so she can't risk losing hours to study," Spencer explained, dropping the new sandwiches onto the counter and turning to carve the beef. "How much?"

"Half a pound, need something in the house that isn't pasta," I said, jumping when someone kicked the back of my stool and nearly sent my ass sprawling to the floor. I barely had a chance to grip the counter, craning my head to make out my attacker.

"What part of I'm starving did you not understand. I've been sat in that booth for ages watching the pair of you make moon eyes at each other," April hissed, slumping down beside me with a thunderous glare.

"Jesus, sorry. Next time text me, don't give me a heart attack."

"I'll tune down the moon eyes in your presence, April. Can't promise the same for your brother. His haircut has garnered lots of attention," Spencer smirked, showing my sister Debbie's message.

"Cute, she thinks she has a chance," April cooed, pinching my cheek and ignoring my attempts to bat her way.

"That she does," Spencer said, catching a new customer approaching the till. "Here's the beef, enjoy the food guys."

April grabbed the sandwiches, leaving me to carry the beef as we walked out of the store.

"So, I know you said you don't want to do anything for it... but have you given any thought to what you want to do for your birthday tomorrow?" April asked, tone casual as she handed me my sandwich.

Sighing, I unwrapped the thing slowly, casting her an unimpressed look.

"The point of me never mentioning it is so we don't talk about it, April," I reminded her.

"So... you have no plans tomorrow then. You'll be coming straight home after school..." April trailed off at the suspicious look I gave her.

"Han refuses to let me do any work tomorrow," I explained, coming to a stop at April's relieved expression. "Mom hasn't planned anything, has she?"

April sputtered a bit, waving her hand wildly enough to fling a piece of meat halfway down the sidewalk. Instantly a flock of birds swarmed in on it. Momentarily distracted I took a bite of my sandwich only to choke at April's next words.

"She may or may not have organised a teeny tiny surprise party for you." She said, clapping my back when I failed to catch my breath.

"What? Why would she do that?" I groaned, rubbing my throat then looking down at the sandwich in betrayal. "I thought she learned after I turned thirteen that birthdays were things only you and Thomas enjoyed."

"You're going to be eighteen, Beau," April said, as though my own age had alluded me. "Last night she was crying about how you weren't her baby anymore."

"You know that means she's gonna start coddling you when I move out after graduation."

"Move out," April snorted at that, picking at the edges of her bread. "Sure, the day you move out is the day Dad buys me a Ferrari."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

April sent me a look before rolling her eyes with a huff. "Whatever. Pick up the pace though because we've been hanging out all day and I need some space since tomorrow's going to be a Bow-Bow festival."

I shuddered at that, shoving her shoulder. "Shut up, you love me."

"Debatable." She said coyly before attempting to sling an arm across my shoulders. "Though the haircut helps."

Ruffing a hand against the grain of my hair I barely had time to catch my beanie as it fell onto the concrete for the second time that day.

"My hair wasn't that bad," I muttered and April threw her hair back, laughing.

"Okay, Shaggy, sure it wasn't."

**A/N: Side-note, if anyone cares about casting, I just realized that Conan Gray HIGHKEY is what I pictured Jeremy Clark to look like. I typically like to keep character descriptions vague enough for people to imagine what they want, but if you like to have a point-blank visual then... there you go.

A photo of him is posted below, though bear in mind Clark has a shaved head lmao. Let me know if you do want to see what the rest of the characters look like. If you wanna keep the image of Clark you have in your mind and remain untainted, stop scrolling.

On that note though, until next time. Stay safe, social distance, but do check in on loved ones and friends through text/calls and all that jazz to make sure they're doing alright!**