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Chapter One

There’s a dead clu in the palm of my porcelain hand I run my chipped yellow nails over the once-silky strands and stare long and hard like I can somehow reattach them

T

woit The evidence of my failed attempt rests in my hand, a mixture of brown and blonde undertones It was a summertime project that Mama told me not to bother with She insisted my hair was too brittle

Like always, Maht

Like always, I was too stubborn to listen

Not only did my tender scalp burn fro the color It left my blonde strands in patches that Mama helped me rinse out

Wrapping the evidence of rasp, I stare at s over the vanity I see paleness Baggy, glassy green-brown eyes Narrowed cheekbones tinted pink but not from the expensive blush like Mama wore once upon time Mine is from my body’s internal war on itself

I’ve filled out since starting new ulate ht My cheekbones aren’t as prominent anymore, nowhere near as hollow and sickly Instead of the three pills I was taking before leaving Bakersfield, I take nine It’s worth it, I suppose, to not look so skeletal

Usually I keeproutine It’s easier than seeing the way my collarbones stick out and hair thinly franize the girl staring back

Today I force ranite countertop, I study what the mirror shows from the waist up A sliver of my lean sto aze upward, I notice slim arms, narrow shoulders, all the way up to thin, chapped lips Nothing about me is particularly beautiful, yet I still see Mama in my frailty

For the longest time, she wouldn’t look at me for more than a few seconds Her eyes would find ood day at school, but then they would quickly go anywhere else Grandet to h

When Maan and the possibility of another early funeral I was always going to be a rehters was dead, and for all she kneas mere steps behind

So, I called Dad

Grandma told me I didn’t have to move, but I kneas for the best I didn’t want to know that Maolden when I was around

The er than the one in e bathrooray with hardwood floors and all new fixtures Instead of a walk-in shower, I’ve got a large bathtub that could fit two sets of twins in it if necessary, and the amount of shelf space would have made Lo jealous

A knock atthe loose hair into the white garbage can by the counter, I walk into the main room and hear Dad’s voice on the other side of the door

“Are you up, Eravelly and hesitant, a tone he’s held since he helped unpack what little I brought with me from Mama’s house to this one across the state