He already found fault with so much.
Jay put his arm around my shoulders and told me he would walk me to school, that I shouldn't worry.
Jax grumbled behind us, "What the hell's she so quiet for? It’s just one day out of the year."
I inhaled deeply, remembering that self-control was my friend. I grasped at that control so I wouldn’t snap at Jax—until I saw my hair in the foyer mirror of the Stonewoods' house.
I froze and Jax ran right into me.
"What’s wrong with you?" His voice rose, but I didn't glance at him.
My eyes were on my hair. My long, wavy brown hair had escaped the tightly tied bun that took a concentrated amount of time to do.
Both Jax and Jay stood on either side of me exchanging worried looks. My green eyes widened, glassing over as they stared back at me in the mirror. My face paled so muchthat it contrasted sharply with the darkbrownnest that sat on myhead.
I frantically started combing my fingers through it. "Oh my God. Do you have a brush? I need a brush.”
They both stared at me like I was crazy.
"Okay, if you don't have a brush, I'll take a comb. I need to fix this right now.”
Jay shook his head, and Jax stepped back.
“You guys, I need something! Anything!" Anything to make this look better. I felt control slipping through my fingertips. "Oh God. My father is going to kill my m—"
Both the boys kept staring, first questioningly, then with what appeared to be pity.
"Please!" I practically screamed.
I felt the air escaping my lungs. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to focus on twisting up my hair to wrap it close to my head.
"Brey." Mrs. Stonewood appeared in the mirror. She stood behind me on the large staircase. "I have a brush right upstairs. Why don't you follow me?"
I tripped and almost fell at the bottom of the stairs. Jax's hand caught my elbow, and I turned to say thank you, to grab at any dignity I may have had left. When I saw his confusion at my panic, I couldn't bring myself to say a word.
He started to walk up the stairs with me, his hand still on my elbow. I didn't care. I just needed to get my hair back in order.
"Jax, this is just us girls," his mother said, her voice stern.
Jax's hand left my elbow and for some stupid reason, I missed it. Probably because I knew after this, he wouldn't touch me with a ten-foot pole.
I followed her up the rest of the white marble stairs and down the hallway to a gigantic bathroom that I probably should have just run to the moment I saw the mess on my head.
She went to one of the drawers and pulled out a brush. Turning me toward the mirror, she calmly started brushing my hair without offering me the brush to do it myself.
I stiffened, staring at her head over mine in the mirror. Her eyes were the same blue as Jax's and they glistened with sympathy.
I didn't want it. I didn't need it. I had done just fine with my mother and my father so far. I stepped closer to the speckled granite countertop. "Thank you for finding me a brush."
Her brow furrowed. "I can help you with your hair."
She'd read my silent plea right. I wanted her to leave, but she wasn't budging.
"Is there a reason you can't wear it down?"
She knew the reason. Adults like Mrs. Stonewood were easy to read. They all held the same expression.The first time I encountered that lookhad been a day my mother pickedme up from grade school. My teacher had seen a bruise on her arm when my mother reached for me.
She had gasped and we both stiffened. My mother pulled down her sleeve quickly but my teacher’s eyes had already changed. They flicked to our car nervously, and she asked if everything was all right.