Charlotte's Scars

Chapter 25 - Charlotte

Chapter Twenty-Five

Charlotte

Monday evening, I stood in the girl's bathroom staring forlornly into the mirror. I ran my fingers through the short length of my hair and let out a long, heavy breath. Everything happening to me seemed so unfair, and I wasn't sure how much longer I could hold it together.

When Mrs. O'Donnell saw me this morning, she was speechless. My hair was below my cheekbone, choppy and uneven, and when she demanded to know what happened, I told her I cut my own hair.

Bewildered, she rushed me out the door and to the nearest Hair Salon before we headed down to Bridgewalk to pick up my homework. Because my hair was so short, the only thing the hairdresser was able to do, was cut it into a pixie style. It looked slightly better than Mack's gruesome work, but still, I could barely stand to look in the mirror.

Turning to the side, I glanced at my profile and groaned.

Maybe lying to Mrs. O'Donnell was a bad idea – letting those girls get away with what they did was wrong, but I couldn't shake the feeling that telling on them would somehow cause me more problems.

It was clear, even to a newbie such as myself, that the O'Donnells favored Mack, so I wouldn't be surprised if they believed her over me.

I needed to handle this situation on my own.

"Hurry up in there!" Summer yelled through the door and started banging on it.

Adjusting my glasses, I took one last look in the mirror and quietly whispered, "Be strong, Charlotte."

Opening the door, I folded my arms and looked directly at Summer.

"Well – move already," she demanded unblinkingly.

"No." I stood my ground, looking brave even though my knees were trembling and my heart was pounding. "I want to talk about what happened last night."

Summer's resolve wavered. Biting her bottom lip, she looked almost ashamed before glancing down the hallway nervously. "Okay," she said barely above a whisper. "But not here – meet me in our room at eight."

Taken aback, I slowly nodded. "Uh ... O-okay," I stammered. "Why at eight?"

"The other girls will be downstairs watching Walking Dead." Fidgeting, she glanced down the hallway again and quickly said, "Just be there and we'll talk."

Confused but slightly curious, I nodded and moved out of the way so she could use the washroom.

Ө Ө Ө

Skipping supper, I found myself sitting on the tire swing hanging from the tree in the backyard while looking through the Golden Book of Fairy Tales. I probably could've worked on some of the homework I picked up from Eastcoast High, but spending the day in Bridgewalk triggered memories of my parents. I found myself missing them more than usual, and reading through this book made me feel connected to them somehow.

"So, are you going to tell me what happened to your hair?"

Closing the book, I looked up at Rayden walking down from the house with a plate in one hand and a glass of milk in the other. Reaching me, he handed over the food and leaned up against the tree. He seemed more stiff than usual with a clenched jaw and hardened eyes – something about his demeanor reminded me of someone.

"It was them, wasn't it?" he all but growled.

Narrowing my eyes, it took a minute, but I almost laughed when I realized what it was. He had that overprotective, brotherly look about him that Christian always got with Karla. My heart warmed at the thought and I couldn't help the smile that raised the corner of my lips.