something like that!”
“Ruthie will help you write it.” There. Problem solved. Ruthie was a teacher. She wrote sentences all the time.
“Have . . . have you talked to Vlad?” Merri Lee asked. “Has he told you about this morning’s prophecy?”
“Not yet.” He looked at the girls and softened his voice. “Figure this out, Meg. Jean said you’re the one who can do it.”
Simon walked out of the office, closed the back door, and stopped. Just stopped. He couldn’t call the other Wolves in the Courtyard to help him drive away this danger to his friend. This danger lived inside her, was part of her—like the blood swimming with visions and prophecies, like her fragile skin.
How was he supposed to protect Meg from Meg?
Tess stepped out of the back door of A Little Bite. It would have been easier for her to use the inside doorway between the two stores to reach the upstairs meeting room, so she must have come outside to check on him.
she asked, pointing to HGR’s second floor.
He crossed the paved area behind the buildings, and they went up to the meeting together.
He didn’t regret staying in the Courtyard in order to stay with Meg, but rightnow he wished he could shed all the human problems along with the human skin.
* * *
Meg and Merri Lee stared at each other.
“Before we deal with the other stuff . . .” Merri Lee waved a hand to indicate Meg’s hair. “Why so short?”
“I got tired of the way deliverymen looked at my hair. I got tired of the way the Others looked at my hair. It wasn’t supposed to be
orange
!” Meg huffed. “I went to the haircutters in the Market Square. I hadn’t met the Crow who was working there. She
said
she could cut my hair to remove the orange part. But I thought there would be more left!”
Merri touched her dark, layered hair. “It took me years to find a stylist that I trust, so I never went to the salon in the Market Square. But I think the two women who worked there part-time were being paid to teach some of the Others to cut hair as well as provide haircuts. I wonder if the Crow had been learning to cut hair before the women quit, or if she simply volunteered to provide the service and doesn’t know what she’s doing.”
“So now there’s a semitrained Crow cutting everyone’s hair?” Meg’s voice rose. She pictured a cartoon drawing of a Crow cutting someone’s hair, wildly waving the scissors while snips of hair flew everywhere. The image looked ridiculous enough to make her feel calmer.
“It wasn’t careless,” she said. “I couldn’t see what was happening, but the movements felt deliberate, even thoughtful.” The slight tug of hair being lifted, the sound of the scissors. Had the Crow become so absorbed in the movement, in the way the shiny scissors opened and closed, that she hadn’t wanted the experience to end?
“Well,” Merri Lee said after a moment. “Your hair is a solid black now. Not even a stray orange tip anywhere. And on the bright side, your hair will be easy to care for this summer.”
Meg hesitantly brushed a hand over her head. Different. Everything would feel different; all her routines would need to be adjusted.
“What?” Merri Lee asked. “You’ve got a look on your face like you just realized something.”
“I’m not sure. I need to use the bathroom.”
“Do you have a spare pad of paper? I’ll pick up a notebook at the Three Ps later that we’ll keep in here for our notes.”
“That drawer.” Meg pointed. “I have an extra pad that fits the clipboard I use for deliveries.”
She went into the bathroom, keeping her eyes focused below the level of the mirror. She studied her hands, the familiar shape. The familiar scars. Then she rested her fingers against her face and looked in the mirror. Fair skin with a hint of rose in the cheeks. Gray eyes. Black hair, eyebrows, eyelashes.
Today this is my face. This is the face Simon recognizes as