In the tense atmosphere, Lucy’s complaining voice broke the silence.
“Oh my god, my hair feels like glue already.” She sighed, both hands digging into her tangled locks, pulling apart sticky clumps: “It’s been a whole week without a proper wash… the sea’s salty as hell, the stream’s freezing cold, and every time I rinse, it feels worse than not washing at all!”
Mary, sitting nearby, frowned and tugged at a strand stuck to her neck: “She’s right. It wasn’t so bad at first, but now my hair feels like mud. And yesterday with all that wind, the sand blew everywhere, the sweat wasn’t even dry before another layer of dirt got plastered on.”
From his corner, Lucas looked up, squinting at Lucy’s frizzed hair, then burst out laughing: “Well… from afar it’s not that bad. Looks like you’ve been ra
