“No. She loved that hair. She cried when I trimmed half an inch.”
“I know.”
“Then tell me what happened!”
Linda slowly inhaled.
“There’s a concert at Emily’s school tomorrow night.”
I stared at her.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Go.”
“Linda—”
“Be there, Rachel. She’ll explain everything herself.”
I nearly laughed in disbelief.
“You’re seriously making me wait?”
“This time, just come.”
This time.
Those two words struck me harder than I expected.
Suddenly, I couldn’t remember the last school concert I had attended from beginning to end.
The spring recital?
The winter performance?
Had I really missed the winter concert two years ago because Melissa called at four in the afternoon?
“Don’t do that,” I said.
“Do what?”
“Make this about me.”
“I’m not.”
Linda’s voice remained calm.
“I’m telling you where your daughter needs you to be.”
“She is my daughter.”
“I know.”
“Then stop hiding things from me.”
“I’m not protecting anyone who hurt Emily.”
“Then what are you doing?”
Linda’s mouth trembled.
“If I explain it tonight, all you’ll hear is that she cut her hair.”
She looked straight at me.
“You need to hear why she chose to do it.”
She stepped back.
“Tomorrow. Six o’clock.”
Then she shut the door.
I drove home trembling.
Emily stayed in her room.
I sat at the kitchen table and automatically opened my laptop because work had become my way of dealing with every uncomfortable moment.
The following afternoon, Linda came to take Emily to the school concert.
From upstairs, I watched them leave.
Emily was wearing a knit cap despite the heat.
Her shoulders were hunched inward as though she wanted to disappear.
Then I noticed her purple backpack beside the door.
She had left it behind.
I grabbed it, planning to run outside after them, but Linda’s car had already disappeared.
As I held the backpack, something shifted inside.
I opened it.
Notebooks.
A granola bar.
A sweatshirt.
Then, underneath everything else, I discovered a crumpled piece of lined paper.
I unfolded it.
The message was short.
Let’s see if you still think it’s funny when your hair is gone.
I read it once.
Then again.
My stomach twisted.
Was Emily being bullied?
Had someone threatened her?
Was that why she cut her hair?
And if Linda knew, why hadn’t she told me?
I covered my mouth with my hand.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
The empty house gave me no answer.
Then my phone buzzed.
Melissa.
Of course. Her message appeared right away.
Rachel, Karen called out sick. We’re slammed. I need you back here.
Without thinking, I began typing.
Of course. I’ll—
Then my eyes returned to the threatening note.
I stopped.
Suddenly, one memory after another came rushing back.
The choir concert where Linda had filmed Emily because I couldn’t be there.
The science fair where Emily won second place and I arrived only after everyone was cleaning up.
Her father was frequently away for work.
And somehow, I had convinced myself that because Linda was there, Emily wasn’t really missing a parent.
I looked at my unfinished reply.
Then I erased it.
Instead, I typed:
I can’t. My daughter needs me tonight. I won’t be coming back in.
My finger paused above send.
For twelve years, I had responded to every urgent message from work.
Every request.
Every last-minute favor.
Not tonight.
I sent it.
Melissa replied almost instantly.
Excuse me? We’ve discussed this. If you leave us hanging today, don’t bother coming in tomorrow.
My hands trembled.
I typed:
I understand. I’m still not coming.
Then I turned the phone facedown.
Upstairs, I found a soft blue dress Emily had picked out for me at Target two summers earlier.
“You look like a mom in that,” she had told me.
I hadn’t worn it since.
I put it on.
My phone buzzed again downstairs.
I ignored it.
Then I carefully folded the threatening note, slipped it into my purse, and drove to Emily’s school.
The auditorium lights were already dimming when I arrived.
I quietly entered and searched the stage.
There she was.
Third row.
Second from the left.
Emily stood beneath the stage lights in her white choir shirt.
Her short hair looked completely different.
I found an empty seat in the back.
Then I noticed the girl beside her.
Maya.
Near the side aisle, three older girls were whispering and laughing.
One of them said,
“The gum should’ve been stuck closer to the roots.”
My entire body went cold.
Then the concert started.
