Chapter 2 - The Forty-Minute Hairstyle
Nia didn't tell her mother about the photograph when she got home.
She put her backpack beside the kitchen table, ate half a peanut butter sandwich, and started her homework.
Her mother, Danielle Carter, arrived from work shortly after six.
Danielle worked as a patient transport coordinator at a hospital. Her shifts often changed, and lately she'd been picking up extra evenings.
She came through the door carrying grocery bags in one hand and her work shoes in the other.
"How was school, baby?"
"Fine."
Danielle glanced over.
"Fine, or the kind of fine that means I shouldn't ask?"
Nia gave a small smile.
"Regular fine."
Her mother accepted that answer for the moment.
She washed her hands, started dinner, and asked Nia to help rinse the vegetables.
They moved around the small kitchen in their familiar rhythm.
Danielle chopped onions.
Nia washed tomatoes.
The radio played softly from the windowsill.
Normally, Nia would have told her mother everything by now, including the things that didn't matter.
But she couldn't decide how to explain this.
If she said Tessa had made fun of her hair, Danielle might offer to fix it.
And Nia didn't want it fixed.
That morning had started differently.
Danielle had still been asleep when Nia got up. After several exhausting shifts, her mother finally had a few extra hours of rest.
Nia had decided not to wake her.
She'd stood in front of the bathroom mirror with a brush, hair ties, a spray bottle, and a determination that lasted through three failed attempts.
The fourth attempt worked.
The bun sat high and round, secured with two pins.
Nia had studied herself from the front and both sides.
Then she'd added the purple satin ribbon Danielle had given her for her birthday.
When Danielle finally woke up, she'd found Nia packing her lunch.
"Look at you," her mother had said. "Did you do all that yourself?"
Nia had turned around proudly.
"Every bit."
Danielle had gently touched the ribbon.
"Then I'm proud of you."
It was a tiny moment.
But Nia had carried that feeling to school.
Now, standing in the kitchen that evening, she wondered whether her mother would be disappointed to know what had happened.
"Nia?"
She looked up.
Danielle was watching her.
"You've washed that same tomato three times."
Nia set it down.
"Sorry."
Her mother turned off the faucet.
"What's going on?"
"Nothing."
Danielle waited.
Nia looked toward the window.
"Did you really like my hair this morning?"
The question surprised her mother.
"Of course I did."
"Or did you just say that because I made it myself?"
Danielle laid the knife beside the cutting board.
"Come here."
Nia stepped closer.
Her mother examined the bun, now slightly lopsided after a full day of school.
"It's not perfectly even," Danielle said.
Nia's face fell.
"But it's neat, it's creative, and you did it yourself. I loved how happy you looked when you showed me."
She brushed the loose curl away from Nia's cheek.
"Why are you asking?"
Nia told her about Tessa.
She repeated the insults.
She explained how she'd walked away.
Danielle listened without interrupting.
When Nia finished, her mother asked, "Did it hurt your feelings?"
"No."
The answer came too quickly.
Danielle said nothing.
Nia looked down.
"A little."
Her mother pulled out a kitchen chair.
They sat together.
"Walking away was a good decision," Danielle said. "But you don't have to pretend something didn't hurt just because you handled it well."
Nia rubbed the ribbon between her fingers.
"She wanted me to cry."
"Maybe she did."
"I didn't."
"I know."
"But everybody was laughing."
Danielle's expression changed.
"Everybody?"
Nia hesitated.
Then she retrieved her tablet and opened the screenshots Malik had sent her.
Danielle read them twice.
Her mouth tightened.
"That isn't just somebody making one mean comment."
"I know."
"Has she done this before?"
Nia thought about the jokes Tessa made in class.
The little remarks about clothes.
The way she sometimes whispered just loudly enough for someone else to hear.
"I don't know," she admitted. "I never really paid attention until it was me."
Danielle placed the tablet on the table.
"Then we need to understand what's happening before it gets worse."
Nia swallowed.
"Please don't make a big scene at school."
"I won't embarrass you."
"Promise?"
"Promise. But I can't promise to ignore it."
That night, Nia carefully removed the pins from her hair.
She laid the purple ribbon beside the bathroom sink.
Then she looked at the screenshots again.
One of the laughing reactions belonged to a girl she'd helped study for a spelling test the week before.
Another belonged to someone who regularly sat beside her at lunch.
Nia had expected Tessa to be cruel.
May you like
What surprised her was how many other children had been willing to watch.
And laugh.
