hunks. With a little work, she could make it look very different. She could even dye it afterwards.
Different
. Yes, with a little cutting and coloring, she could look very different.
Elly fumbled in her drawer for the scissors. She stretched a hank of her hair outward and thrust the scissors through the light brown tresses. The cluster fell to the floor.
* * * *
“My goodness! What have you done to yourself?” Mr. Rowan stared in disbelief at his daughter.
Elly felt tears sting her eyes. She knew her hair looked awful. No matter how hard she worked or how much she’d cut, she couldn’t get it to come out right. She raised her chin and looked straight at her father. “It’s not that bad.”
“Bad? You look like a circus freak!”
“Mike!” Mrs. Rowan broke in, stepped to Elly’s side, and squeezed her shoulders. “Let up. I’ll take her to my hairdresser tomorrow afternoon.”
“Let up?” he exploded. “Why would she go out of her way to make herself ugly? Why?”
Elly trembled, not from her father’s anger as much as from her own sense of failure and disappointment. “It’s the latest thing.”
“Be quiet,” Mr. Rowan demanded. “You’d better shape up, young lady. Hasn’t this house been through enough grief without you acting like some weirdo? Cutting your hair like that. What’s the matter with you, Elly?”
Her lips trembled, but she refused to break down in from of him. All at once, she hated her father. She hated the way he’d treated her. “I’m sorry you think I’m ugly. I know I’ve never been pretty and smart.”
“Well, cutting your hair that way certainly wasn’t a very smart thing to do. Now fix it or shave it off and be done with it!” Mr. Rowan gave a disgusted snort and stomped from the room.
Mrs. Rowan turned to Elly and touched her arm. “He didn’t mean it, Elly. He’s just upset and angry. We can fix your hair. But you’ll have to wear a short style. It’ll be cute on you, honey. Wait and see.”
Elly nodded, feeling broken and scattered. Yes, they could fix her hair. But how could they fix what was happening to their family?
* * * *
Elly woke up from a deep sleep startled. She was unsure what had awakened her. Through the darkened house, the sound of whimpering came to her, making her skin prickle. She scooted out of bed and opened her bedroom door cautiously. At the end of the long hallway, she saw a bright line of light from beneath the bathroom door.
Elly inched down the dark hall. Her heart thudded with uneasy dread. She stopped in front of the door, cracked ever so slightly. The sound of muffled crying made her heart pound faster and her mouth go dry.
She shoved the door slightly and it inched open. In the glaring white light of the bathroom, reflected in the mirror, she saw her father. He stood against the white-tiled wall, his hands covering his face. His body was shaking with racking sobs.
For a few moments, Elly couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Fathers don’t cry. They are big and strong and brave. And her father was the strongest of all. Elly remembered the time he’d been hurt in a construction accident. He’d been in terrible pain, but he hadn’t even complained, let alone cried.
She wanted to say,
Don’t cry, Daddy! I’m so sorry I cut my hair. Please don’t cry.
But instead, she pressed her back against the wall and hid in the shadows. She didn’t want her father to see her or to know that she’d seen him. She knew it would embarrass both of them.
Elly padded swiftly back down the hall to the safety of her room. Her teeth chattering, she burrowed under the covers. She hugged her pillow to her chest, trying to push aside the memory of her father’s tears. “It’s my fault,” Elly told herself. “It’s all my fault.” If only she hadn’t cut her hair. He had so much on his mind. Now she’d made it worse for him.
She stared straight up at the bare ceiling. “I’m so sorry, Daddy,” she said into the