Page 23 of Friends to WHAT?!

Wolfe hits me with a smile, his canine teeth sharp and shiny as he agrees to walk me over.

My breath arrests.Stars, since when areteethattractive?

My heart pitter patters.

Stars. Stars, stars,stars.

It might not just be the big, bad wolf that’s in trouble here—not when the little lamb hasfangsto contend with.

Chapter Ten

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Children go to the knot factory every night. The children love it there. The factory gives them tangles and dreams of child labor.

Wolfe

It is a truth universally acknowledged by parents everywhere that if you have a child, and that child is a girl, and that girl has long hair, that long hair will be themosttangled two minutes before you have to leave the house.

“Sit up straight,” I remind Amia for the fourth time. “When you hunch like that, it makes your hair go into your neck and I can’t brush it.”

“That’s the point,” she says. “It hurts when you brush it.”

“It wouldn’t hurt if you’d been brushing it when you brush your teeth, like you’re supposed to. When you don’t take care of yourself, there are consequences. If you need help with your hair, I can help you, but you can’t let it go for several days like this, or it’ll get knotty, and it’ll hurt when–”

“I know!” she interrupts, voice pitched high and irritated. “You’ve told me!”

I reach for patience. At 7:20 AM on a school day. When she doesn’t have her shoes on, and we really should’ve left thirty seconds ago, but the matted mess at the base of her skull tells me it’ll be another ten before we even leave the bathroom.

Balanced on the ledge of a tub that is not a width meant to accommodate a full-grown man’s behind, I wonder if I ever knew what patience even was.

I reach deeper, find the flimsy edge of the discipline, andpull.

“Is there something that might make this task feel easier for you?” I ask. Maybe a different type of brush is the answer, or some extra strength super sparkly tear-free detangling spray.

The thoughts of a desperate man, I know. None of the brushes before have remedied the Great Hair Tangle Struggle, nor the detanglers. Butmaybethe next ones I buy…

“There’s nothingyoucan do,” Amia huffs, blowing a lock of smooth, tangle-free hair right into the war zone.

Carefully, I return it to the safety that is the area in front of her shoulders. Then, I address her sass, tugging on the threads of patience threatening to slip from my fingers. “Is there somethingsomeone elsecould do?”

While I wait for her answer, I conquer a fifth of the knot I’m working on. I know better than to declare my victory yet, but a frisson of triumph hits me anyway, renewing my determination.

“I bet if Leora brushed my hair, that would fix the problem,” Amia suggests as I pick at the rest of the nest of hair. “Maybe now that you’ve met her for real life, she can come and brush it for us? Elizabeth says that her mom brushes her hair every day, and that she has a ‘woman’s touch,’ which is why Elizabeth’s hair always looks so smooth and pretty. Elizabeth says that the reason my hair looks bad is because it only has a ‘man’s touch,’ which ‘can never do anything good.’”

My hands still, and I stare at them. They’re just about the right size to throttle a small child, I’d bet. “Sounds to me likeElizabethneeds to learn some manners,” I say, calmly. So calmly. The most calmly.

Amia turns around to give me the stink eye, but halts when her gaze lands on my hand. “Dad, you’re going to break the brush.”

“DoesElizabethsay stuff like that to you often?”

She shrugs and turns her back to me. “It’s not like she’s wrong. Little girls need moms. That’s why they’re born from them.”

My heart cracks straight into a thousand shards. Gently, I say, “Little girls don’t need moms, sweet girl. Little girls need women in their lives who can pour into them, whether they’re their mothers or not, and I’m willing to bet that you have loads more of those thanElizabethdoes.”

Amia shrugs again. “She has a mom and a grandma, and they both live in her house with her, and her mom does her hair every morning. Sometimes she gives her braids, and last week she had space buns.”

I… have no clue what a space bun is. I make a mental note to look it up later—after signing Amia’s tardy slip and taking up my new hobby of fighting rude little children.