She was wearing a couple of layered T-shirts over a pair of shorts, and her damaged leg, which now ended above her knee, was wrapped in a few layers of beige ACE bandages. Cheeto was perched in the wheelchair beside her—mangy old Cheeto, whom she’d thrown across the hospital room a few weeks back. Stella’s shiny brown hair fell over her shoulders, looking almost the same as it always did—there were some wispy strands that she would need to grow out. But the bandages were finally gone from her face, and the superficial wounds she’d gotten had all but disappeared. She looked like she usually did, for the most part. “Wow. You look great,” I said, amazed at how much she’d changed in a week. “You were only gone for a week,” she replied. “I know,” I said. “But you look better.” “Meanwhile, you’ve changed completely. What—your hair. Did you bleach it?” “Kind of,” I said. “I mean, yes.” “I like it.” “It’s impossible to comb out for some reason.
What do You think about Eleven Things I Promised (2016)?
