Chapter 36
When I get home, Mom’s in her usual dither. On the phone, not happy with this thing or that.
“Hi, Mom,” I say, waving.
Her jaw slackens. “I . . . Can I call you back?” She disconnects and drops the phone.
“What have you done with your hair?” she shrieks.
Well, I guess that got her attention. Finally.
“Why? Don’t you like it?”
“Well . . . it’s different.”
“So, you don’t like it.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Whatever.” I turn and start walking away.
“Portia.”
Something in her voice makes me stop cold. I turn to look at her. My Mom is staring at me.
I steel myself. “What is it?”
She shakes her head. “What’s going on? Why’d you do that to your hair?”
“Why shouldn’t I? It’s my hair.”
“Well, of course, but . . .”
A silent moment stretches for eons. The kitchen clock ticks.
