I looked up just in time to see her heading for the stairs.
She was wearing a huge gray sweatshirt with the hood pulled tightly around her head.
It was nearly ninety degrees outside.
“Tessa?”
She kept walking.
I pushed my chair back.
“Why are you wearing a hoodie?”
“I’m cold.”
She didn’t look
That was when I knew something was wrong.
Tessa was a terrible liar.
Not because she couldn’t invent a story, but because she always stopped looking at me when she did.
I followed her upstairs.
She was sitting on the edge of her bed when I entered, her knees pulled against her chest.
“Tess.”
“I’m tired, Mom.”
“Look at me.”
“I’m fine.”
Then I saw them.
Tiny brown hairs were scattered across the shoulder of her sweatshirt.
My stomach tightened.
“Tessa.”
She went completely still.
“Take the hood down.”
Her eyes filled immediately.
“Mom, please.”
I walked closer.
“Whatever happened, you’re not in trouble.”
“You’ll be mad.”
“At you?”
She didn’t answer.
I sat beside her.
“Tess, please.”
For several seconds, she just stared at her hands.
Then she slowly reached up, loosened the strings, and pushed the hood back.
I actually stopped breathing.
Her hair was gone.
