The Wisdom of Hair Read Online Free PDF

and a lot of women just seem to give up on that.” Sara Jane took a swig of her Coke. “But I don’t have to tell you that. You’ve been to a stylist; you know what I’m talking about.”
    I nodded, and hoped she couldn’t see my embarrassment. I’d never been to a beauty salon, never had anybody cut my hair but Mama and Nana. I didn’t have a clue as to what she was talking about, but I believed every word Sara Jane Farquhar said.
    “So, where do you live?”
    “Just off Main in a little apartment on Beckett Street.”
    “You’re lucky to have your own place. I live with my parents.”
    Mama had embarrassed me so many times when prospective friends came over, the thought of inviting someone like Sara Jane Farquhar to my apartment made me nauseous. But after two days in Davenport, I was lonely, and gawking over Winston Sawyer hadn’t helped any.
    “Do you want to come over today—after class?”
    “Sure.” Sara Jane smiled, and pushed one of her perfectly bleached blond tresses off of her face. “That would be fun.”
    I explained the arrangement I had with
the owner
, not mentioning my growing obsession for Winston, and she said that was fine by her. She would keep me company while I cooked. She also showed me how to pour salted peanuts into my Coke bottle during one of our breaks. She said it was a good, quick snack because you could eat and drink at the same time. The salty and sweet tasted good to me, but I almost choked the first time I tried it.
    It’s funny how neither of us ever really said anything about being best friends that day, the way you might on the first day of grade school, but after two fifteen-minute breaks and a lunch together, we just were.
    After school, we went across the street to her parents’ store so I could buy groceries to cook for Winston. The minute we walkedthrough the door, Sara Jane started stuffing all kinds of things into her great big shoulder bag that was about the size of a pillowcase. The people in the store saw her but didn’t say anything. I nearly died when she shoved two big T-bone steaks in there, and then called out to me from the opposite end of the aisle. “Zora, I think I need a cart for all this stuff. By the way, do you have a grill?”
    I could feel my face turn red as I shook my head and ducked behind the Wise Potato Chip display on the bread aisle. Sara Jane’s parents owned the store, but she took so much stuff, I just knew the police would be there any minute to haul me away as her accomplice.
    Then, lo and behold, Sara Jane came around the corner with a big box perched on top of the cart that said “Hibachi” in huge black letters and asked me to pick up a ten-pound bag of charcoal and some lighter fluid there at the end of aisle six. Winston had only given me fifty dollars. My bill came to $27.74, including tax.
    Sara Jane’s cart was so full, I quit worrying about her shoplifting and started worrying about what in the world I was going to do if she expected me to help pay for her stuff, too. But Sara Jane Farquhar didn’t even go through the checkout line. She flirted with the bag boys as they packed up her stolen goods and nearly gave me a heart attack when she asked the off-duty police officer to drive us to my place. I had never met anybody like Sara Jane Farquhar before in my life.
    I felt guilty that we brought home at least a hundred dollars’ worth of groceries. I guess Sara Jane knew this because while I was finishing up supper, she told me not to worry one bit, that it was just a little advance thank-you present for letting her hang around my apartment.
    “Yes, but I only spent a little more than half of what Winston gave me to buy groceries.”
    She cocked her pretty head to the side and put her hands on her hips.
    “Who in the hell is Winston?”
    Well, it was almost like he drove up in the yard on cue, and for the first time that day, other than when Mrs. Cathcart was talking, Sara Jane Farquhar was speechless.
    “His wife