Day four of stalking Price was going to be different.
“I have an idea.” Kylee kneaded the dough for the dinner rolls. Her mom lay on the couch, arm draped over her eyes, nursing a headache. “Here’s my plan. Every day, Price goes out to walk the dog. If I time it right, I can get the mail at the same time he’s out there. I’ll keep saying hi. He’ll have to stop ignoring me, right?”

“Shh, Kylee. Not so loud.”

Kylee frowned and took her frustrations out on the dough. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

She hopped over the threadbare section of carpet between the hallway and the kitchen, careful not to step on any carpet tacks poking out. Inside the bathroom, she pulled on the chain suspended from the light bulb. The dull yellow light flooded the small room, swaying as the bulb sought equilibrium.

Yellow. Such a happy color, except in this room. The stained yellow linoleum looked more like dried urine, and the water drips on the off-white walls reflected the artificial light like streams of stomach bile.

Kylee turned her attention to the peeling mirror. Usually she didn’t notice herself, but now she pulled the elastic out of her limp blond hair. It didn’t bounce, curl, wave, or shine. Grabbing it up in her hands, she wrapped it back into a ponytail. Small wisps escaped the band, forming shapeless strands around her face.

Her face wasn’t too bad. She had high cheekbones and full, pink lips. A scattering of freckles decorated her small nose, and long brown lashes framed her blue eyes.

“This hair is a curse,” she muttered, yanking open the drawer and searching for the scissors. She spotted them behind the finger nail clipper. All handy cutting tools.

I don’t do that anymore, she reminder herself. She let the hair fall down over her shoulders and began cutting the strands.

By the time she finished with one side, it was jagged and uneven and horribly shorter than the other. Heat rose in Kylee’s face as she realized the disaster she’d made of herself. She attacked the second side, trying hard to hold the scissors steady and keep the ends straight.

It just got worse. Kylee kept cutting, frantic to make her hair even and stylish.

She stopped herself when she realized her hair was above her shoulders. If she kept going, she’d end up looking like a boy. She swallowed back tears, watching her nose redden in the mirror. Awful. She’d made a mess of things.

Hurrying to her room, Kylee shuffled around her drawer until she found a winter cap. Somehow she’d have to hide her hair until it grew back. She shoved the cap on her head and pushed the hair up under it.

The bus’s air brakes sounded at the side of the road, but Kylee threw herself on the bed and cried. So much for her brilliant plan. No way did she want Price to see her like this.

Her mind lit on the fingernail clippers still in the bathroom drawer. She pushed off the bed, wiping her nose as she stumbled into the bathroom. Just a little pain to take her mind off this. Nothing too bad.

She closed the door to her room and used the clippers to cut off pieces of skin on the palm of her hand. She drew in sharp breaths with each little sting, until her whole hand ached. Kylee lay back on the bed and rested her open palm in front of her, glad for something else to focus on.

Her pity-party ended when Bill came home and yelled for his dinner. Kylee checked the status of her hat before bolting from the room.

She set the food on the counter and put the plates next to it, then stood there staring at it.

The golden hue of the chicken dripped with rendered fat, juices surrounding the baked potatoes and carrots. “I don’t want to eat this again,” she whispered. She placed a roll and a carrot on her plate before returning to the dining room table.

“Food’s out,” she said.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Bill glared at her.

Kylee paused, her plate of food balanced on one hand. “I was sitting down to eat.”

“We all work in this household, little girl. I’m not breaking my back for nothing.”

What, am I not allowed to eat now? She sighed, putting the plate on the table and letting her shoulders slump forward. “I’ll finish up my food in the kitchen while I start on the dishes. Was there anything else you needed?” She kept her voice sweet and mild.

“Yeah, get the mail,” he replied, stabbing his meat again.

Of all the times when she didn’t want to go outside. No one had questioned the silly cap on Kylee’s head in the ninety degree heat, but that didn’t mean she wanted to show off for the neighbors. “Really? Right now?”

“And then go vacuum the bedrooms and living room before you start on the dishes.”

Her mother jerked her chin at her, chasing away Kylee’s further desires to argue. “Right.” Dumping the plate of uneaten food in the sink, she stomped past the dining area and let herself out of the house. The screen door hit so hard it bounced back before closing shut.

Squeals and shouts reached Kylee’s ears from next door. She pulled her cap farther down to her ears and hugged her shoulders, wishing she could make herself invisible. She shuffled to the mailbox and opened the door.

“Down, Sisko. Down.”

Price’s deeper voice rose over Lisa’s laughter. Kylee turned her head in his direction almost against her will. The dog kept leaping up and trying to put his paws on Price’s shoulders.

“Here, boy!” Lisa picked up the ball Sisko played with and threw it across the yard. It rolled under the gate and came to a stop in the street, right in front of Kylee’s mailbox.

Kylee froze. Of all the rotten coincidences . . .

“Oops.” Lisa tucked her hands into fists and bolted forward.

“No, Lisa!” Price yelled. The panicked note in his voice stopped Lisa mid-stride. “I’ll get it.”

Kylee did not move as Price’s footsteps ran toward her. He breathed hard and glanced at her, his face red, before stooping to pick up the ball. He stood up and backed up a few steps, then swiveled around. Kylee knew he was about to run back without saying a word to her.

“Go on,” she shot out, surprising herself. “Run on back to your pretty, happy little family and pretend like you don’t hear me.”

He paused. Kylee held her breath for countless seconds while he stood there, his back to her, not saying a word. Then he turned, squinting at her against the sunlight. “Why are you talking to me?”

Kylee shrugged. “Why not? It’s the nice thing to do. We’re nice around here, you know.”

He gestured at her head. “And why are you wearing a hat? It’s like a hundred degrees out here.”

“Oh, that.” She felt her face redden. “I, uh, got a bad haircut.”

“Really?”

“I know, right?” Kylee kept talking, hoping he wouldn’t notice how embarrassed she was. “I mean, what kind of person cuts their own hair?” Stupid, stupid. She shouldn't have revealed that.

“Yeah.” He blinked, a long slow movement of his light brown eyes. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“What?” She shook her head. “I get you didn't want me on your land. But this is my home. I can be here if I want.”

He stared at her, scrutinizing her every feature. “Yeah, I guess.” He turned without another word and walked away.

Kylee realized her mouth was hanging open, and she snapped it shut. Would every conversation with him be so cryptic?

Then she cheered up a bit. At least they’d had a conversation.

***

Kylee woke to the sound of Bill’s rusty car disappearing down the road.

She threw her covers off. “Let’s get this day over with,” she breathed.

The winter cap slid off the blankets, landing on the carpet. Oh, lordy, her hair! Kylee’s hand shot toward her head, and she winced in anticipation of finding the short, uneven strands. Closing her eyes, she ran her fingers down from the roots, dreading the moment when she reached the jagged ends of the bob she’d given herself.

The moment never came. Her hair kept going. Her eyes popped open, and she dragged a fistful of hair in front of her face.

Still there. All of it.