corner, the comforter to her chin. Her anguished mind tortured her with what-ifs … what if she hadn’t done this or that, what if she had done this or that, wasn’t there some way she could have stopped the cruel attack on Tandy?
And it was an attack. He hadn’t beaten Tandy, or stabbed her, or slapped her. But he had injured her just as surely.
And when Tandy saw what had taken place while she slept …
Shea groaned aloud, and closed her eyes.
When she opened them, dawn had crept into the room, lighting the hardwood floor with a grayish hue. Monday morning had arrived.
For one brief, hope-filled second, Shea allowed herself to believe that none of it had actually happened. Maybe she’d been asleep and dreaming a terrible dream.
But when she reluctantly sent her eyes to the spot on the floor beside Tandy’s bed, there it was … a golden sun made of soft, thick rays of hair, curled into one another in a circle.
It hadn’t been a dream.
Because anything seemed better than sitting on her bed staring blankly at the evidence of last night’s cruel deed, Shea dragged herself up and out of bed. She took a shower, thinking, If only I hadn’t been so desperate for a copy of that stupid exam. And as she dressed in a long gauze skirt and white peasant blouse, she asked herself, Why didn’t I warn Tandy that some crazy person wanted her hair chopped off?
Something inside her snickered, are you kidding? Tandy would have thought you’d gone off the deep end. She’d think you were the crazy person.
Tandy groaned, wriggled, stretched, her eyes opening slowly, reluctantly. She winced as she rolled over on her side and a headphone jabbed against her ear. Pulling off the headset, she flipped onto her back, her eyes on the ceiling.
Shea sat on her bed, hands folded in her lap. Her heart was pounding so loudly in her chest, she half-expected Tandy to lift her head and say, “Cut out that awful racket, will you?”
Instead, Tandy said, “Did I ever tell you how passionately I hate Monday mornings? More than you hate bio, and that should tell you a lot.”
At the word “bio,” Shea’s stomach rolled over. If she’d studied harder, if she’d hired a tutor, if she’d gone to Dr. Stark for help, the terrible moment about to happen—wouldn’t have to happen.
If, if, if! What good did ifs do?
“I propose,” Tandy said lazily, “that we go to the state legislature with a petition to abolish Mondays. How does that sound? Just think,” with a sleepy grin, “that would only leave two days of bio! You’ll go for that, right?”
Without answering, Shea remained sitting stiffly on her bed, waiting. …
“What’s the matter with you? Get up on the wrong side of the bed?” Tandy sat up. “And how come you’re already dressed?” She glanced sideways, at her clock. “It’s so early.”
And then Tandy sat up. Shea watched her expression change as she noticed something felt different.
Tandy sat up straighter, and her left hand reached up to see what the problem was. …
As her fingers felt the back of her head, the expression on Tandy’s face became one of utter confusion. Her fingers moved along the back of her neck, stopped in confusion, then moved rapidly, searching, seeking. … Her right hand flew up to join the left, feeling the chopped, ragged ends where there should have been long, silky strands.
Tandy’s mouth fell open. Her eyes widened in shock and disbelief.
“Tandy …” Shea tried, then realized there were no words that would help. None.
Tandy’s eyes, huge with bewilderment, flew to Shea’s face. What she saw there jolted her up off the bed and sent her, barefoot, across the floor to the dresser mirror. In her haste, she failed to notice the puddle of yellow nestled below her bed, It could as easily have been a discarded blouse or sweater.
Shea sat perfectly still, her heart aching as Tandy stood, in her long white T-shirt, in front of the dresser and confronted her reflection. She
And it was an attack. He hadn’t beaten Tandy, or stabbed her, or slapped her. But he had injured her just as surely.
And when Tandy saw what had taken place while she slept …
Shea groaned aloud, and closed her eyes.
When she opened them, dawn had crept into the room, lighting the hardwood floor with a grayish hue. Monday morning had arrived.
For one brief, hope-filled second, Shea allowed herself to believe that none of it had actually happened. Maybe she’d been asleep and dreaming a terrible dream.
But when she reluctantly sent her eyes to the spot on the floor beside Tandy’s bed, there it was … a golden sun made of soft, thick rays of hair, curled into one another in a circle.
It hadn’t been a dream.
Because anything seemed better than sitting on her bed staring blankly at the evidence of last night’s cruel deed, Shea dragged herself up and out of bed. She took a shower, thinking, If only I hadn’t been so desperate for a copy of that stupid exam. And as she dressed in a long gauze skirt and white peasant blouse, she asked herself, Why didn’t I warn Tandy that some crazy person wanted her hair chopped off?
Something inside her snickered, are you kidding? Tandy would have thought you’d gone off the deep end. She’d think you were the crazy person.
Tandy groaned, wriggled, stretched, her eyes opening slowly, reluctantly. She winced as she rolled over on her side and a headphone jabbed against her ear. Pulling off the headset, she flipped onto her back, her eyes on the ceiling.
Shea sat on her bed, hands folded in her lap. Her heart was pounding so loudly in her chest, she half-expected Tandy to lift her head and say, “Cut out that awful racket, will you?”
Instead, Tandy said, “Did I ever tell you how passionately I hate Monday mornings? More than you hate bio, and that should tell you a lot.”
At the word “bio,” Shea’s stomach rolled over. If she’d studied harder, if she’d hired a tutor, if she’d gone to Dr. Stark for help, the terrible moment about to happen—wouldn’t have to happen.
If, if, if! What good did ifs do?
“I propose,” Tandy said lazily, “that we go to the state legislature with a petition to abolish Mondays. How does that sound? Just think,” with a sleepy grin, “that would only leave two days of bio! You’ll go for that, right?”
Without answering, Shea remained sitting stiffly on her bed, waiting. …
“What’s the matter with you? Get up on the wrong side of the bed?” Tandy sat up. “And how come you’re already dressed?” She glanced sideways, at her clock. “It’s so early.”
And then Tandy sat up. Shea watched her expression change as she noticed something felt different.
Tandy sat up straighter, and her left hand reached up to see what the problem was. …
As her fingers felt the back of her head, the expression on Tandy’s face became one of utter confusion. Her fingers moved along the back of her neck, stopped in confusion, then moved rapidly, searching, seeking. … Her right hand flew up to join the left, feeling the chopped, ragged ends where there should have been long, silky strands.
Tandy’s mouth fell open. Her eyes widened in shock and disbelief.
“Tandy …” Shea tried, then realized there were no words that would help. None.
Tandy’s eyes, huge with bewilderment, flew to Shea’s face. What she saw there jolted her up off the bed and sent her, barefoot, across the floor to the dresser mirror. In her haste, she failed to notice the puddle of yellow nestled below her bed, It could as easily have been a discarded blouse or sweater.
Shea sat perfectly still, her heart aching as Tandy stood, in her long white T-shirt, in front of the dresser and confronted her reflection. She
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