Chapter 5: Chair Rules

"You will not tell Dexter," I said to my mother. "You will not tell his mother, or the choir, or Dad."

She was still holding her car keys in one hand.

"I'm trying to help you."

"Then do it by being quiet. If one word reaches Dexter, I'll know where it came from, and you'll never see my face again."

She looked at me for a long moment.

"Fine," she said. "But you'll call me when you see sense."

She left the casserole on the table.

Marla ate it for four days and said it needed salt.

Nine days after the first infusion, my hair started to come out.

I was standing in Marla's shower when a long brown piece came away in my hand, and then another.

I got out and sat on the edge of the tub with a towel over my head.

Marla knocked once and came in without waiting.

She had her clippers in her hand, the ones she used on the neighbor's dog.

"I've done a worse head than yours," she said. "Sit in the kitchen. I'll put a towel round your neck."

"I don't want to see it."

"Then close your eyes."

I closed them.

The clippers buzzed over my scalp, and the long pieces fell on the tile around my feet.

Marla did not say anything wise, which I was grateful for.

When she finished, she rubbed her palm over the top of my head once and said, "You have a very nice skull."

I laughed, and then I cried a little, and then I washed my face.

The next morning I went back to the chair.

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