BROWN SKIN | BOOK 1

|| C H A P T E R . 11 ||

She didn't believe me. She couldn't. Jewelz continued seeing this helpless poor soul of a girl from years ago, but news flash, time is always ahead.

We began conversing all at once, our conversations so different and jumbled up together, no one could hear what the other had to say. The constant notion of not being heard and drowned out was irritating.

"Well, I don't like the cut at all and think your long locks were better, but it suits the shape of your face I guess." Jewelz said with harshness.

"Well, I do." I retorted.

My reflection glistened in the side mirror from the car with the shorter parts of my hair far out. I briefly glanced away and smoothed it down like my insecurities.

She was right because I didn't really like it either, or I happened to just agree with her because her and Simone were beautiful and I was not. I missed being in the shower and reaching behind my back to touch the ends of my hair, whether split or healthy. I missed dipping my hair in the swimming pool and pulling my head up to feel the heaviness my hair soaked up, breaking my neck nearly.

I don't have that anymore and no one will believe me if I said so.

But I wasn't going to give Jewelz that satisfaction she wanted to be correct.

We shortly arrived at the house and André surprisingly looked after the little kids while we left. I figured he would never show up again to the house. Jewelz gave him a knowing secret smile, sharing something together I didn't understand. I guess it was supposed to be flirtatious. The babies watched cartoons that only kept them focused for so long.

"Hey Ebonee you-" André cut the sentence short to examine my new style above my shoulders. "You cut all of it?"

I was going to answer his question till Jewelz's voice was too innocent and soft for a baby's ear.

"I want you to meet someone, Ebonee." She edged on sweetly and turning around a middle-aged black man stood at her side.

Thin gold lining brim glasses sat on the edge of his nose and a clean cut tie that demonstrated no sign of wrinkles fit around his neck. His original attire added on with a collared shirt and basic slacks for professional reasons along with a gold watch around his brown wrist.

He reached his hand out to me, how a respectable greeting should be and introduced himself like it was a formal essay recited to the class.

"I'm Dr. Harris and soon will receive my doctorate in a few months. A psychiatrist to broaden it. I specialize in treating patients who have health concerns and diagnose them with verbal conversations and legal prescriptions I'll insist. Shall we sit?"

After all his prepped introduction, I didn't realize we were standing really and hesitated on getting too comfortable with this man.

My eyes locked with Jewlez's hopeful pleading one's before scurrying away, alone with this specialized "doctor."

A busted notebook displayed sheets of blank paper without lines propped on his knee and he took out a pen, allowing the cheap ink to bleed through the clean pieces in ruin.

"I don't understand why...you're here talking to me?" I asked perplexed by his presence in the Dales house. The sound of pen and paper scribbling answered at first.

"Your guardian is concerned about your emotional and mental well-being and state and would like me to discuss these matters with you."

Scribble. Scribble. "I just told her for today I'll make an initial patient evaluation and if you'd like to continue, you'd call."