Behind the store, I open the packaging for the scissors and begin sawing through my hair. If this works, I’ll be able to get it straightened. If not, I won’t care what my hair looks like anyway. I do look wistfully at the locks on the pavement. Already my head feels lighter and clearer. Feeling better prepared, I return to the Evans’ house.
There’s no signage for a burglar alarm, but I’m betting they have one. I could probably disarm it, but it’s safer to evade it. I wait in the backyard, peering into the kitchen. Mrs. Evans is moving around and when her back is turned, I slip in the back door and hide behind the coat rack.
