Waylay was silent for a moment, and I craned my neck for a glimpse of her in the mirror. “I didn’t cut it,” she said, eyes meeting mine. “What’s that, sweetheart?” Stasia asked. “I didn’t cut it,” Waylay said again. “My mom did. As a punishment. Couldn’t ground me ’cause she was never around. So she chopped off my hair.” “That fucking b—ouch!” I kicked Stef then spun my chair around. Waylay shrugged at the suddenly silent adults around her. “It wasn’t a big deal.” That was what she’d told herself. I remembered the tidy bins of hair accessories in her old bedroom. Tina had taken something from
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