A/N: Y'all think I should delete this book? Be honest-

Everybody in our family has different hair. Papa's hair is like a broom, all up in the air. And me...my hair is crazy. Tangled, chaotic, wild. It never obeys barrettes of bands. It's almost as if every second of everyday is spent combing and washing it. Granite's hair is thin and straight. She rarely needs to comb it. Axel's hair is slippery---slides right out of your hand like a wet eel. And Hecate, who is the youngest of us all, has hair like fur.

But my mother's hair...her hair is like little silk rosettes on the collar of a nightgown, like little rock pop candies all pretty because she pinned them tightly into hair curlers at night. They intrude my nostrils at night, making feel safe when she holds me at night, the warm smell of freshly baked bread, when she makes room for you on the side of her bed and you fall asleep to the sound of Papa's snoring and the rain falling on our roof.