“Perfect cut,” she says. “Now let’s refine.”
Her scissors glide like she’s painting.
Razor on the ends.
Flat iron for shine.
Blow-dryer pulling everything forward and sculpted, not soft.
When she’s done, I look… dangerous.
Not messy dangerous.
Not broken dangerous.
Controlled dangerous.
A girl reborn in fire and ocean wind.
Everyone in the room lets out a low “damn.”
Even Susan whistles.
I’m still staring at myself when my phone—Aunt Susan’s phone actually, because mine is still back home—buzzes in her purse. She answers on speaker.
“Hello?”
“IT’S ME!” Shani practically yells.
Susan flinches. “Damn, child, use your inside voice.”
“WHERE IS SHE?” Shani demands. “Leo is FREAKING THE HELL OUT. He showed up at the Barn this morning asking if we’d seen her. Then he showed up at my HOUSE. He’s pacing like a deranged golden retriever! And everyone at school is trying to figure out if she slinked away in shame or if she’s gone for good.”
Susan looks at me carefully.
My jaw tightens.
Slinked away.
Gone for good.
Is that what they all think?
I take the phone from her hand.
“Shani.”
“—are you okay? Do you want me to come?—”
“No,” I cut in. “Listen to me. I am NOT running from shit.”
Silence.
Then a soft inhale.
“Okay,” Shani says. “Okay, bitch. What do you want me to tell them?”
I stare at myself in the mirror.
