CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Stuck in a CurlKit found it difficult to drive past the end of Pam’s street without parking in front of her house and demanding answers. She drove through a rain shower and pulled into her own driveway just as Raki exited the front door.
“Hi Kit.” He stood in the gap to stop it from slamming. A box of glass test tubes tinkled in his arms as Kit locked her car door and bounced up the front steps. She stopped and gaped at Raki’s head.
“What did you do?” Lines and patches of scalp showed through the tight crop of black fuzz. He shrugged and wrinkled his nose.
“I used the nose hair trimmers to draw a chemical formula on my head. But I forgot it looked backwards in the mirror. I found Jerry’s clippers and tried to make it better.” He stared up at the remains of the hair he
