Whispers of the Bayou Read Online Free PDF Page A

to let me do what I need to do with no objections. Okay?”
    “Um…okay.”
    We stood and she led me down the narrow hallway and into the master bathroom, pulling out a white wrought iron chair from the vanity and indicating that I should sit. I did.
    From the cabinet under the sink, she took out a pair of scissors, a razor, shaving cream, and some bobby pins, setting them all on the gray marble countertop. Positioning herself behind me, she began fooling with my hair, using the bobby pins to secure various sections to my head. I couldn’t fathom what she was doing, but my eyes widened when she reached for the scissors.
    “What’s going on?” I asked, leaning away from her.
    “You have to trust me, Miranda.”
    Trust her? I didn’t want a haircut, but it also seemed that I had no choice. Relenting, I sat up straight again and let her do what she needed to do. From behind my head, I could hear the distinct sound of a snip, and when I looked down at the ground I could see a long shank of my dark hair falling to the tile floor.
    Startled, I reached back and felt my head with my fingers.
    “Good grief, AJ!” I cried, realizing that she had cut away a good two square inches of hair, almost to the scalp, from the very center of the back of my head.
    What she did next came as even more of a shock, but by this point I was too confused to resist. Pushing away my hand, she used a washcloth to wet that square of my head, dabbed on some of the shaving cream, andshaved it down to the scalp with the razor. I closed my eyes, hoping that at least some artful hairstyling might be able to hide the damage she was now doing until my hair grew back in.
    “Okay,” she said finally, dropping the razor into the sink, a tangle of dark hairs clumped on the blade.
    “Does this have something to do with my birthmark?” I asked as my mind raced, trying to decide what possible reason she might have for shaving a part of my head—the same part my attackers had studied with the flashlight. I tilted my chin away from the mirror, but I couldn’t see far enough back to glimpse what she had done.
    “It’s not a birthmark, Miranda. I only told you that when you were young, so you’d have a answer for anyone who might accidentally run across it—like a hairdresser, or maybe one of your little friends if you were doing each other’s hair.”
    Over the years I had been asked “What’s that?” a few times, usually during my misguided attempts to have foil highlights added to my dark hair. Otherwise, the mark stayed completely hidden and unnoticed. I rarely thought about it, and as far as I knew even Nathan wasn’t aware that it was there.
    “I don’t understand,” I said. “If it’s not a birthmark, what is it?”
    Again, I reached back to touch the area on my scalp—only now it was strangely naked, the skin perfectly smooth and hairless.
    “It’s a tattoo,” she said.
    “A
tattoo?
”
    “I have no idea where it came from or what it means, but it’s been there since you were small. I found it when you about six or seven and you wanted me to braid your hair. When I called and asked your father what it was, he had no idea. Only your grandmother seemed to know what I was talking about, but she wouldn’t tell me anything. She just said that we would be told eventually, when it was time.”
    “Time? Time for what?”
    “I don’t know. She wouldn’t elaborate.”
    I started to protest, but AJ shook her head, looking at me in the mirror.
    “Your grandmother was a tough cookie, Miranda. You really wouldn’t understand unless you had known her.”
    My fingers rubbed furiously at the bald patch of my scalp.
    “She tattooed a little girl? That’s practically child abuse!”
    “That’s what I said. When I threatened legal action, she told me that if I did anything about it at all, they would countersue me to get back full custody of you. I didn’t know if they could win, but I couldn’t risk the chance of losing you, so I had to