A FEW DAYS LATER, Nelly sat in front of her mirror clutching the remnants of a braid-out gone wrong. She had painstakingly moisturized and twisted her hair the night before in the hopes of revealing a gorgeous crimp pattern for Joe Wu’s wedding that afternoon.
Unfortunately, her hair secretly hated her and mocked the hours she’d spent. The mane frizzed and fluffed around her face to the point of insanity.
Groaning, Nelly forced her hands into claws and fell before her mirror. “Why?” she bawled. “I don’t have time to correct this!”
“Did somebody say fashion emergency?” Shayla kicked the door down and whirled in, her arms burdened with bottles, spritzers, and clips. Waddling to Nelly’s desk, she heaved the items before her niece.
“What’s all this?”
“This is an intervention.” Aunt Shayl
