Vora was in front of the vanity mirror in her parents’ room, admiring herself while her mother combed through her long, messy hair. Madeline saw her daughter getting too full of herself and gave her a disapproving glare through the reflection.

“Modesty is far more attractive than pride. I was able to reel in your father that way. You’ll be old and withering one day, then what will you have?”

“That’s not going to happen. I’ll always be pretty,” Vora answered in her ever-posh voice.

“That’s what I thought, but in thirty years, I will have wrinkles.”

“You’re as delusional as me, it seems.”

“How’s that?” Her eyes goggled, then they thinned when her second-favorite comb snagged her daughter’s hair. “So messy. How can you stand it to be so long?”

“I like it this way. I can use it as a pillow when the teacher drones on.”

“Well, the end of your hair is going in your crack if we don’t trim it. We need to see a professional.”

“Please, could we not go to the old crones downtown? Their salon always has a musty smell, and they poke and annoy me constantly.” Vora crinkled her nose and placed her favorite butterfly clip above her left ear.

“We’re leaving in thirty minutes,” Madeline stated, disregarding Vora’s protest.

“Mother?”

Madeline stopped at the doorway, her foot causing a creak in the floorboards. “Yes, my daughter?”

“I know in my heart you will never have wrinkles.”

“Why, thank you.” Her flattered, chipper voice fell into a dry one. “We’re still going. You won’t be able to sway a master with your novice manipulative flattery.”

Vora swore to her reflected self when her mother vanished from the room.

***

After a drowsy ride in the passenger seat of the HC, Vora was in a salon chair. The atmosphere comprised of judgmental wisdom was so heavy that Vora might as well have been stapled to her seat. She knew her mother preferred this salon because this was a secret thread in the web of O’Landra gossip.

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“What would you like, dear?” asked the elderly woman who wielded scissors and spray. “How about an eyebrow plucking?”

“No?”

“Nose hair trim? I bet you have a rope’s worth in there.”

“Eww. No. You’re gross.”

“How about we bleach your hair blonde? That’s very popular these days.”

“What? No. Leave my hair color alone. Just shampoo and trim.”

“Shoulder length,” Madeline added while tapping her shoulder.

As the sounds around Vora dampened from submerging the back of her head into a brass bowl of water, Vora focused on her gift. Now when she received pain, she could locate where it originated with average accuracy. Alleyway brawl. Joint pain. Stomach cramps.

Before she could map out the entire block, her hair was dried and full and smelled of lavender. Now what would she do for the evening? Her studies were done, Maive and Darcie were busy, and nothing was on the MP that night except for reruns of crime dramas.

“Mother, I’m going out,” Vora blurted, still no plan in mind. “Don’t wait up for me. I’ll just transit or walk home.”

“Be back before dinner,” Madeline replied automatically. She returned to the conversation she’d been having about an actress who’d been cheating on her husband.

She’s not listening, Vora confirmed. Honestly, what should I do? Overcast. It’s going to rain in about an hour. I could get a new umbrella for myself since father crushed mine. To be fair, it was my fault for leaving it on the floor. Then perhaps I’ll go to the overlook. I bet the city lights in a drizzle are amazing.

“Oh. Hello, Vora,” came a boy’s voice filled with uncertainty.

Vora snapped to her left to see the only boy she was friends with. Klev Bekkan. He was a blonde boy with blue eyes, a bit ugly, and dressed like a chimney sweeper while outside of school. He was shy, kind, and a bit shorter than Vora. She secretly fancied him because she found his bumbling innocence funny and comforting. She’d never admit that to him.

“Now, what brings you to the salon? Came to gussy up a bit?” Vora snickered. She tossed him a wrapped lion head, which he caught clumsily, and popped another into her cheek.

“No, of course not. I-I was dropping off an order. Pardon me for a moment.” Klev entered the salon with a package and came out empty-handed moments later. “My father’s been swamped with orders, so I’ve taken some of the load. This was the last one of the day, at least.”

“I’m impressed by how busy you are all the time. School, sports, family business… Isn’t it tiring?”

“No, I’m okay.” Klev became flush when Vora snatched his hand. “What are you doing?”

The girl with a fresh haircut flipped over the blonde boy’s hand. It was raw, scraped, and shaky. Vora frowned at the sight of it. She’d been feeling his pain since they began talking. It was like a cheese grater had slid slowly against her palm.

“You’re a terrible liar. Why don’t you ask your father for a break? He could ask Chimes for some assistance.”

Klev shook his nose. “He doesn’t like to bother the church when he doesn’t have to. I like to help him; he needs me….”

“You’re sweet, Klev,” Vora smirked and leaned forward with hands behind her back.

“No, not really.” He became a tomato, averted his eyes, and said, “I like your haircut.”

“And why wouldn’t you?” She threw back her locks and touched her collarbone. “I’m overwhelmingly fabulous, as usual. Coincidently, I’m going to your family store right now. I need a new umbrella. Walk me there like a proper gentleman and employee.”

“Well, I… Okay,” Klev replied, defeated. He picked up a pace to catch Vora, who was already well ahead of him.