Pinch Hit by Tim Green

we cut your hair. McKenna’s got some tanning spray and a way to give you a birthmark like mine. No one will ever know, and if either of us has questions or problems? We’ll just text each other.”
    â€œHow is she going to give me a birthmark?”
    â€œA Sharpie.”
    Sam wrinkled his nose. “Like, a Magic Marker?”
    â€œJust trust me. We tested it. Look.”
    Trevor turned his neck so Sam could see the dots right next to his birthmark made by a Sharpie marker.
    â€œWhat about my hair?” Sam asked. “People are going to ask why I all of a sudden look like you.”
    â€œI bet they won’t,” McKenna said.
    Sam gave her a puzzled look.
    â€œListen, think about any picture you’ve ever seen of Trevor, any movie he’s been in,” McKenna said.
    â€œWhy?” Sam asked.
    â€œHis hair. He’s never had his hair short like this before. The only people who’ve seen him are the people on the set and his closest friends and family. Your dad, the guys on your baseball team, anyone you know won’t think your hair looks like Trevor’s, and Dragon’s Empire won’t be in theaters for over a year.”
    â€œShe’s right.” Trevor ran a hand over his scalp. “People are going to notice you cut your hair, but they’re not going to say, “Oh, that looks like Trevor Goldman.’ None of them have seen me like this in the movies.”
    â€œWhat about your mom?” Sam asked.
    Trevor shrugged. “I love my mom, but she doesn’t pay that close attention. I usually don’t see her outside of breakfast, and she’s usually got a headache. My dad might pick up on it, but he’s in Australia for the next three weeks.”
    â€œMy dad will know,” Sam said. “He’ll ask about the hair. He’ll know you’re not me. I’m with him all the time.”
    â€œLet me ask you something,” Trevor said. “What kind of a guy is your dad?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œNice guy? Mean? Easygoing? A hard nose? What’s he like?”
    â€œHe’s nice,” Sam said. “Kind of easygoing. He’s smart.”
    â€œGive me a shot at him,” Trevor said. “I’m an actor, and I’m not bad, right, McKenna?”
    McKenna nodded.
    â€œLet me see if I can’t convince him that I’m you and that you asked McKenna to buzz your hair because it’s in style. I can lighten my skin with some makeup and cover the birthmark. I’ll give it a shot. And if it doesn’t work? That’s when I tell him about the script. You think he’ll play along if we get his script into the hands of the top producers and agents in Hollywood?”
    Sam looked around at the beautiful pool, the gardens, the clean-cut hedges, all of it painted in golden sunlight. He knew it was how his dad wanted to live, his dream, what he worked so hard for every day. Sam stared at Trevor for a moment, then nodded his head. “Yes. I do.”
    â€œOkay, McKenna,” Trevor said, “get the clippers.”

17
TREVOR
    Sam’s eyes shifted nervously as Trevor buzzed up one side of his head and down the other. He sat on a bar stool they’d brought out onto the garden path. His long blond hair fell away in sheets.
    McKenna, who now wore an oversized T-shirt over her suit, held some up and giggled. “Aw, I liked the long hair.”
    Trevor thought Sam looked like he might throw up. When Trevor was done, Sam ran his hand over the stubble and winced.
    â€œIt’ll be worth it,” Trevor said. “The chance of a lifetime.”
    McKenna clapped.
    Trevor and Sam traded clothes, then the three of them ate dinner. A woman McKenna said was the cook served them out on the terrace above the pool—filet mignon grilled with vegetables. She gave Trevor and Sam funny looks, but said nothing. Trevor insisted they swap as many stories about each other’s