Courtney swallowed. “My mom said it’s okay. I like—”

“I did not ask for your opinion,” Ms. Whitman snapped.

The class went quiet.

Ms. Whitman walked to the back of the room and revealed scissors and electric clippers on a desk. “We will fix this now.”

A wave of horror ran through the room. A student gasped. Another whispered, “No way…” But nobody dared challenge the teacher’s authority.

Courtney froze—eyes stinging, hands shaking.

“I don’t want to,” she whispered.

Ms. Whitman placed a firm hand on her shoulder, guiding her into the chair. “This is for your own good.”