She wiped her face with her sleeve.
“Ask Grandma.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“Just ask Grandma.”
“Did Grandma make you cut it?”
“No.”
“Did somebody do something to you?”
Tessa squeezed her eyes shut.
“I can’t tell you.”
My chest went cold.
“What do you mean you can’t tell me?”
“It’s not only my story.”
That sentence scared me more than the haircut.
Ten minutes later, I was in my car.
I don’t even remember the drive to Nadine’s house.
I only remember knocking on her door so hard that my palm hurt.
When she opened it, I didn’t give her time to say hello.
“What happened to Tessa?”
Nadine’s face changed.
“You saw.”
“Of course I saw! She came home hiding under a hood like she’d done something terrible.”
“Marla—”
“Her hair is gone.”
“I know.”
“What did you do?”
Nadine stared at me.
For some reason, the fact that she didn’t defend herself immediately made me even angrier.
“What did you do to my daughter?”
“I didn’t cut her hair.”
“But you were with her.”
“Yes.”
“And she told me to ask you.”
Nadine sighed and stepped onto the porch, closing the door behind her.
“She asked me not to explain it.”
“She’s twelve.”
“I know how old she is.”
“Then stop treating this like some secret between the two of you.”
Nadine’s expression tightened.
“It isn’t a secret against you.”
“It certainly feels like one.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Nadine said quietly, “There’s a choir performance tomorrow night.”
I stared at her.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Come.”
“Nadine.”
“Come to the performance.”
“I have work.”
The moment the words left my mouth, something flickered across her face.
Not anger.
Disappointment.
That irritated me even more.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m some terrible mother because I work.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Nadine folded her arms.
“Tessa asked me not to tell you because she wants to explain it herself.”
“Then she can explain it tonight.”
