A Haircut

**BLANCA**
My arms ache as I continue to stir the five gallon pot of gravy. The uniform that I was provided by *Hilda*, not by Jared, consists of an unflattering white skirt that reaches to my knees and a long sleeved white button down shirt. The uniform Jared supplied me is for serving girls and according to Hilda, having a Shiftless waitress might upset the rest of the pack. It is her expert opinion that they might even refuse to eat the food should it be presented to them by someone as displeasing to look at as myself.
Unfortunately, we are not permitted to alter the uniform in any way. At least, that is what I was told. Never mind that *everyone* else assigned to the kitchen either have their sleeves rolled up or the top three buttons loose on their blouses - or both. I am also the only one being forced to wear an apron over my clothes. It is *hot* next to the stoves and I have been sweating over this pot since this morning.
My face feels red and blistered, yet I turn the spoon around once more, only stopping when Hilda stops next to me to check my work.
Hilda is built like a man. Tall, broad shouldered, and flat chested. Even her face appears somewhat masculine. She has a wide forehead, beady brown eyes, a thick unforgiving chin, and if I'm not mistaken - a shade too dark of a mustache. Her dark brown hair is pulled back in a severe bun, the same as mine has been since the moment I stepped into this treacherous sweat box.
"Spoon," she spits and I hand to her as quickly as I can, taking the tiny moment as a reprieve to catch my breath and rest my muscles. I hold my breath as Hilda brings the spoon to her lips and tastes. When her head snaps back and she sputters, I know there's going to be a problem.
"What is it? Too thin?" I ask nervously as she picks at her large mouth with her bare hands.
"No!" Hilda drops the spoon, pulling what appears to be a long string from her mouth. "'It's hair!" she snaps, glaring at me. "*Your* hair."
*What? No! No way.*
"I'm not the one who mixed the gravy, I've only been stirring it. My hair has been up this entire time," I argue, closing my arms around myself protectively, despite the fact that I'm baking in this place.
Hilda shakes her head. "Oh it's your hair alright, Shiftless. We can't serve this. You'll have to start again."
"What?!" I exclaim, and I want to cry. *I can't possibly be asked to start again. No way. I'll die.*
"Gina!" Hilda shouts. "Jill!"
Gina and Jill stop what they're doing immediately to race to Hilda's side. Neither of them like me very much, in fact, none of the women in this damn place have been kind enough to so much as smile at me while I've been slaving away in here. It's not surprising of course, I didn't exactly expect to make friends, but I didn't anticipate them being needlessly mean to me either. It's my own fault, I should have been prepared for this.
"What has she done now?" Jill snarks, glaring at me with her ice blue gaze. Jill's hair is short and an unflattering shade of ash brown. Her eyebrows are too thick, her nose too long, and her lips too thin. I don't like to think ill of people, but she's *mean* and she is*ugly.*
"Did she ruin the gravy? I knew it!" Gina chuckles humorlessly, shaking her pretty head. Gina is one that I'm surprised hasn't been asked to serve, because despite being a relentless jerk, she's actually quite pretty. I could see her on the arm of one of the generals, or even the Alpha. She’s that lovely.
"Hair!" Hilda screeches, holding up the stringy gravy covered evidence that looks suspiciously dark from where I'm standing. "She'll have to start again, bring the mix."
*I want to cry.*
"Wait," Gina chirps, staring at me as if she's just gotten the cleverest idea. "What if it happens again? We can't just keep restarting the gravy. I can think of a way more permanent fix, can't you?"
Jill and Hilda meet her eyes, confusion etched on their faces, but when Gina brings her hand up to imitate a pair of scissors, there's no mistaking what she means to do to me.
*They're going to cut my hair.*
*No!*
"Right," Hilda nods. "That's an excellent idea." She yells over her shoulder, "Diana!"
Very slowly, I start to back away from them. One tiny step at a time I edge closer to the back door that I've seen a few of the men use when they've passed through the kitchen. I won't let them do it. They can't take my hair. *Max loves my hair. I know he does.*
Diana, a tiny girl about my height, with light brown curls and a smattering of freckles pops out from around the corner to join us by the stove. "Yes Madam Hilda," she says exasperated. Her brown eyes sparkle with intelligence as she takes in the scene around her, her brows furrowing when her gaze lands on me. "What can I do for you?"
"Fetch me a pair of shears please," Hilda commands, turning a sinister smile on me.
"Shears? Whatever for?" Diana asks, but the sympathy in her gaze tells me she knows.
"The Shiftless needs a haircut," Gina quips, checking her nails.
"No!" I cry out, covering my head with my hands. "Y-you can't! The Alpha will not be pleased."
"Get the shears," Jill giggles.
"I think we should check with the Alpha first. Or Beta Jared," Diana says, meeting my eyes carefully before flicking her gaze toward the back door.
*Is she trying to help me?*
"No! No need to bother them, Fionna has been with the Alpha all morning. I'm sure they're very busy and Beta Jared had meetings," Gina says plainly.
*Max has been with Fionna all morning?*
*Maybe that is where he went this morning. Could it be that he leapt out the window simply to avoid running into her in the hall?*
"Fine," Diana says smoothly. "I'll fetch them." After throwing me one more pointed look, she disappears around the corner.
The moment she does, I turn around...and I run.