Imogen had plugs all over her head now. She took the clippers and was so much more careful this time, so much more methodical. She let the shaver hum across her head, smoothing out the rough patches. Her fingers prickled against the freshly shorn hair. The clippers themselves were marvelous, efficient, almost magic in their work. The vibrations that Imogen had felt along her hands now reverberated across her scalp. Pinpricks of soothing feeling coming back at the very root of her hairs. Because that was all that was left now, the roots of her hair.

Eventually, she was done.

Imogen looked in the mirror, this fresh reflection looking back at her. She felt her head again, the feeling smooth and soft and fuzzy across the palm of her hand.

She felt new, fresh. She felt cleansed. From all the loathing that had been welling up inside of her. From the slow creep into the darkness.

Wild Nights had saved her. Again.

Imogen grabbed the enormous pile of hair that had accumulated in the sink. There was so much of it. Thick and black and shining. It was the kind of hair she was supposed to pride herself on. Black as midnight and gleaming like the moon. That’s what the Arabic poets used to say. Persian ones, too. She had the beautiful hair of the beloved, and the relief she felt as she dumped it into the trash and did her best to dust the hair off of her clothes was a feeling unparalleled in her entire life. Her scalp was so pale compared to the rest of her skin, having been blocked from the sun by that carpet of thick, black hair.

Luckily, all of her clothes were black, so she didn’t have to worry about how much hair she got all over herself in this process. She looked back at herself. At the girl looking directly at her in the mirror. That wasn’t an Imogen she knew quite yet, but she was better than the Imogen who had come before, that much was certain. Imogen locked her backpack away in the employee lockers. She was ready to step back onto the ground floor of the bookstore.

She just hoped this new haircut wasn’t a fireable offense.

3

Bright Star

8:37 A.M.

Rinn

AJ Park was the most beautiful boy in the entire world.

From her spot by the register, Rinn could see him shelving books back by the historicals section, and the sight made her dizzy and warm all over. Like the sun finally peeking out from behind the cloud cover of winter. He had soulful, deep eyes and long, deft fingers and an intense focus on whatever he was doing.