Chapter 2

The next morning, I went to the hair salon downstairs.

The stylist studied the jagged, uneven mess on one side of my head for a long time.

"There's no way to blend this in. Whoever cut it was pretty brutal. The hair underneath is damaged, too. We'll have to cut the whole thing short."

I nodded. "Go ahead."

The scissors began snipping away.

In the mirror, I watched the hair I'd spent seven years growing get shorter and shorter. It wasn't that I'd never had my hair cut before.

Seven years ago, when I'd just started working, I barely made enough money to get by. Every day, I spent more than an hour packed into the subway.

During the hardest times, Zayne would sit with me outside my tiny rental apartment and eat microwaved mac and cheese. Back then, he loved twirling the ends of my hair around his fingers. "Don't cut it. Long hair looks beautiful on you. Keep it that way when we get married."

I'd listened to him and kept it long for seven whole years.

As the stylist draped a cape around me, she tried to reassure me, "Short hair will look fresh and sharp on you, too."

I smiled. "Yeah."

Suddenly, I realized I wasn't as reluctant to let it go as I'd thought.

When I got home, four pairs of shoes sat by the front door, but no one was in the living room.

I was about to call someone when I saw a new post on social media.

Raina had uploaded a series of Thanksgiving parade photos.

Mom and Dad each held a balloon. Raina stood between them, and Zayne was beside Dad. In the fourth photo, all four of them were making heart shapes with their hands for the camera.

The caption read: "Everyone's here."

I stared at it for a long time.

Mom had explicitly promised we'd all go together after I got my hair cut that day. Maybe she'd gotten tired of waiting. Or maybe they'd never planned to wait for me at all.

Half an hour later, the door opened. Raina came in carrying a pile of things. The moment she saw me, she let out a whistle. "Well, look at you. You really do look like you just escaped prison."

Mom came in behind her. "That short?"

She looked me over with a frown. "That stylist must be terrible. Why'd they cut it like a boy's?"

I asked her, "You went to the Thanksgiving parade?"

Mom paused. "It was a last-minute decision. Raina said it would be crowded tonight, so we went for a quick look. You were getting your hair cut, so we figured we'd all go together next time."

Dad chimed in as he changed his shoes, "It's just a parade. It's not like they're never holding another one."

Raina had already run back to her room. When she came out again, a pearl hair clip was pinned in her hair.

I froze.

That was mine. Zayne had given it to me for my birthday last year.

I walked over to her. "That's mine."

Raina touched the clip. "I know. You can't even wear it with your hair like that now. I'm borrowing it for a couple of days."

I held out my hand. "Give it back."

Her face immediately fell.

Mom hurried between us. "What are you doing? Raina's only wearing it for a little while. You barely have any hair left. It's just going to collect dust in a drawer."

Dad was getting annoyed, too. "Are you seriously going to fight over a stupid hair clip?"

I looked at Zayne who stared at me blankly for a few seconds.

"What clip?"

Something inside me suddenly went hollow. "The one you gave me for my birthday last year."

"Oh." He sounded as though he'd finally remembered.

Then he smiled. "Just let Raina wear it. It goes perfectly with the dress she's wearing today."

Raina immediately tossed her head, looking pleased with herself. "See? Even Zayne agrees with me."

I didn't ask for it back.

That evening, my company sent over the transfer paperwork. I was to report to Port Sterling in three days.

After signing it, I began packing.

Mom pushed open my bedroom door and stopped when she saw the suitcase on the floor. "Why are you packing so early?"

My hands paused.

Then she figured it out herself. "Oh, right. You're getting engaged at the end of the year. Makes sense. You should start moving your things over to Zayne's little by little."

As she spoke, she casually pulled an overcoat with its tags still attached from my closet. "Have you worn this yet? If not, give it to Raina. She needs a beige coat."

I looked at her. Then I suddenly smiled. "She can have it."

Mom smiled, too. "That's more like it. You're sisters. You shouldn't squabble over every little thing."

She walked out carrying the coat. She never even asked why my suitcase was filled with all my important papers and clothes for every season.