Lynde sniffed, like my skates smelled. (They did not.)

“I hardly think those are appropriate for school grounds.”

“Right, I just”—I pointed back from where I’d come—“was just. . .getting to school.”

Lynde narrowed her eyes as I attempted to stop sweating. Once again, her hair was a pillar of silver. Which made me wonder if Lucy was trying to do a similar helmety type thing with how she was doing her hair lately.

“I have spoken to your mother,” Lynde continued, raising her eyebrows and lifting her chin as she spoke, “as you know. We had great hopes for her here at Greenville. I’m sure you share your mother’s aspirations to make a good start at this school.”

“Yes,” I said. “Of course.”

“Of course.” Lynde’s gaze fell on my head. “That hair.” She leaned forward slightly to look at the top of my head, like there was a spider there she wanted to kill. “Why you would debase your body with such a pointless effort is beyond me. Given all you have to overcome.”

For just a second, I let my gaze narrow. All I have to over come?

Lynde raised an eyebrow. Was I glaring at her? Yes. I dropped my gaze to my skates. “Okay, well.”

“Students at Greenville High look their elders in the eye when they are spoken to,” Principal Lynde said.

I lifted my chin. Something inside me was ticking like those bombs you see in cartoons.

“Yes.”

“I know you are issuing an apology today,” Lynde continued. “Please make it a good one.”

And with that she pivoted and headed toward the school.

I had a flash image of me putting my skate through Lynde’s pristine windshield. The sound of glass breaking and the inevitable shriek of Lynde.

You want to see me overcome? HUH?

WATCH ME OVERCOME THIS GLASS!

Oh, and maybe I didn’t dye my hair brown, but I did wear ugly clothes to school on purpose, and clearly Lynde didn’t even car e!

“Hey.”

I spun around, and might have put my hand on or possibly through Lynde’s passenger window if Berry’s hadn’t reached out and grabbed my arm before I did a full spill.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” Berry gushed nervously. “I thought you maybe needed a rescue. From Lynde.”

Berry, I noticed, wore a variation of the same thing every day. Cover­alls. Green hair. That day she was wearing a green-and-blue tie-dyed shirt under her coveralls with matching socks.

“Hey,” I said as she released my arm. “Thanks.”

“What did Lynde want?”

“She hates my hair.” I sighed, rolling to the front steps with Berry close behind.

I sat on the steps while Greenville High students flooded past, Berry sitting next to me, watching me unlace. Her stare was very intense. Which is maybe why it felt weird. Like, could everyone just back off for a moment?