I washed my face and raked a brush through my hair. Didn’t do much good. My hair sprung out like tree branches from a night of head tossing on a feather pillow. When I tried to brush it out, my hair pulled, so I figured I’d tie it all up in a ponytail. My day was off to a bad start. Another thing I figured was that the bad would turn to worse when I set foot in my new school. I was real careful how I moved, making sure I kept my back turned away from everybody. When I met Mom or Grandma, I backed up and let them pass. My plan worked until that brat of a brother of mine stuck his nose into a place it didn’t belong—my business. “Mom, Grace Ann’s got a rat’s nest in the back of her head,” Johnny bigmouthed. Then he bent over with a belly laugh, pointed at my head and squeaked like a rat. I pitched him a squint-eyed look, but he kept on pointing and cackling. Mom said, “Grace, let me see your hair in back.” That’s all it took. Mom grabbed a brush and swiped it through my hair.
