“My hair!” Her muffled wail shifted my attention from her back to the box braids splayed across her back.
“What’s wrong with them? I thought you were excited to get them.”
“I was,” she cried. “But now my face and neck are breaking out! I’m allergic to my hairstyle.”
Her little shoulders shook with her next cry, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.
It wasn’t funny, but the first place she came wasmyhouse.
That meant something. Right?
Maybe now wasn’t the time to analyze my crush on Harlow Westbrook but hope still ballooned in my chest thinking about it.
Harley rolled over with a huff and that’s when the first seed of panic formed. In the time she’d been in my room, the bumps on her face had doubled. Red and puffy around the edges like welts.
Dang. She really was allergic to her hairstyle.
“Help me!” She sat up, eyes ping ponging around the room. “Scissors. I need scissors.”
Before I could stop her, she dived for the school supplies I had set up in front of my bed and held the scissors up to a pile of braids.
“Harley, wait!”
I pried them from her hand and watched her eyes swell with more tears.
“Soul, you don’t understand. I need to get these things off me.”
Keeping my voice calm, I pulled her down on the floor with me and moved the hair away from her face, making sure it didn’t touch her skin.
But when the braids kept doing what they wanted, I ran to my closet and wrapped her shoulders in one of my favorite beach towels.
“Hold that tight until I can get the braids down, okay?”
She looked up at me, eyes sad, lips trembling but nodded.
I didn’t know anything about hair, but I knew Harlow had a lot of it and I couldn’t just start snipping anywhere I wanted.
I started at the bottom and tried to talk her through her tears.
“How’d you get in?”
“Rain let me in,” she sniveled, staring at my hands while I chose a place to cut.
“Hmm,” I said, frowning in concentration. “What made you come here?”
“Rico is on a date with Lyric. Our parents are out of town. I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” Saying that brought on a fresh wave of tears. I really needed to work on my conversation skills when it came to Harley.
“My bad. I wasn’t trying to make it sound like I didn’t want you here.”
It was the opposite. And I still couldn’t believe she was here. In my room. Letting me help her.
It took me a good ten minutes to get the first braid undone, and when I did her natural hair sprang free, coiling tightly toward her scalp.
“Just cut them,” Harlow whined, scratching at her face until the welts grew fatter and redder.
My eyes widened. That didn’t look good.
But I could only process one emergency at a time.
