Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
You’re just thankful. That’s probably all it is.
Pushing away from the door, my eyes catch my reflection as I pass the mirror. I stop dead in my tracks, and my eyes grow huge as I take in how awful I look.
My stomach drops to my feet, and as my eyes flit over the haphazard strands of what’s left of my hair, my heart grows heavy.
I look ugly.
I was too upset last night to care about my appearance, but now that I’ve calmed down… I look horrid.
A lump pushes up my throat when I think of how everyone at school will tease me. Sadness spills into my chest until it forces tears to spiral down my cheeks.
I loved my hair. It was my protection against the world, and now… it’s gone.
There’s a knock at the door, then Colton calls, “Are you okay, Brie?”
I shake my head, and when I open my mouth to tell him I’ll be out in a minute, a sob escapes instead.
“I’m coming in,” I hear Colton say, and when the door starts to open, I quickly turn my back to it.
Now that I know what I look like, shame burns through me, and I don’t want Colton seeing me like this.
I feel his hand on my lower back, and when he moves in next to me, I turn my face away from him. I wrap my arms around myself and hunch my shoulders, wishing I could just disappear.
“Hey,” Colton whispers, and as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking, he says, “Your hair will grow back. Once my mom cuts it, it won’t look so bad anymore.”
The thought of having a pair of scissors near me fills me with apprehension, but I know I’ll have to let Mrs. Lawson cut my hair, or I won’t be able to go back to school.
Not wanting to be alone with her, I ask, “Can she do it now? I don’t want to miss any classes and…” My words trail away because I don’t want to offend Colton by saying I don’t want to be here alone with his mom.
“Sure.” His hand disappears from my back, and then I feel his fingers wrap around my hand, and he squeezes it. “Finish up in here, then come to the kitchen.”
When his hand lets go of mine, I instantly miss the strength I felt.
Once the door shuts behind Colton, I quickly relieve myself, then wash my hands. I borrow some of the toothpaste, and using the tip of my finger, I brush my teeth.
When I’m done, I suck in a fortifying breath before I leave the bathroom.
I first peek around the corner, and seeing Colton and Mrs. Lawson standing by the stove, I slowly walk closer. I keep the kitchen table between us.
Not wanting to get in trouble for just standing around, I ask, “Can I help with anything?”
Mrs. Lawson turns to me and smiles. “No, dear. Why don’t you get some coffee? Breakfast is almost ready.”
Colton grabs two mugs out of a cupboard and pours coffee into them. “How do you drink yours?”
“Some sugar and cream, please.” I move closer to him and nervously smile as I take a mug once he’s done stirring the caramel liquid. “Thank you.”
“We’ll eat, and then my mom will help you with your hair,” Colton says before taking a sip.
“Okay.” I nurse the warm liquid while I watch Mrs. Lawson make eggs. She looks like a mom should – tender smiles and warmth radiating off her.
Once I’m done with my coffee, I clear my throat and say, “Thank you for letting me stay the night.”
Mrs. Lawson glances at me, no aggression anywhere on her features. Her dark brown hair reaches just above her shoulders, and it doesn’t look like she’s brushed it.
Mom will never leave her bedroom without every hair in place and her make-up done.
Mrs. Lawson’s wearing a robe over her pajamas.
Another thing Mom will never leave her room wearing.
Colton takes three plates from a cupboard and begins to set the table. Wanting to do something, I grab his mug from where he left it on the counter and walk to the sink.
Glancing over my shoulder at Mrs. Lawson, I ask, “Is it okay if I wash the dishes?”
“You don’t have to, dear.” She looks up from where her eyes were trained on the eggs. “I’ll do them after the two of you head to school. It will give me something to do.”
Oh wow, my mom will never wash dishes.
The differences between my mom and Mrs. Lawson are glaringly obvious, and it makes me feel less anxious around her.
When the food is ready, we sit down at the table, and just like the night before during dinner, there’s no tension as we eat.
A feeling ripples through me, and it sends my heart racing. It almost feels ravenous.