Page 1 of Knot Your Sunshine
Prologue
15 years ago
The brass bell chimes as I enter Grandma's salon, a familiar blend of hairspray and shampoo wrapping around me.
"And then I told him, 'Honey, if you think I'm cooking dinner after working a ten-hour shift, you've got another thing coming.'" Mrs. Fox perches on a vintage styling chair, her reflection multiplied in the mirrors.
"That's right!" Mrs. Williams calls from the waiting area, looking up from her magazine. "Just because we're omegas doesn't mean we're servants. Gotta stand your ground with those alphas or they'll never respect you."
"Alpha, beta, omega… men are all overgrown toddlers." Mrs. Johnson examines her fresh manicure, blowing gently on her cherry-red nails. "Overgrown toddlers who need their baby mama's milk."
The women burst into laughter, and I drop into one of the cracked leather chairs by the window, crossing my legs beneath me.
"Hello, my little sweetheart!" Grandma catches my eye in the mirror while working on Mrs. Fox's haircut. Her reading glasseshave slipped down to the tip of her nose again, and there's a streak of pink dye on her apron that matches the subtle highlights she gave herself last week. "Just about finished here."
I nod and manage half a smile before my gaze drops to my left Converse shoelace, which is coming undone. My fingers itch to fix it, but even that simple task feels monumentally exhausting right now.
Mrs. Fox peers into the mirrors, turning her head side to side. "Thank you Anne, it's perfect as always."
She wraps Grandma in a tight hug on the way to the register and pulls a bill out of her purse.
"See you next month, Patricia!" Mrs. Johnson calls from the manicure station.
"Your alpha's gonna be the one making you dinner when he sees how good you look." Mrs. Williams winks.
"Bye ladies!" Mrs. Fox calls over her shoulder. "Remember, we run the pack, not them!" The bell jingles and the door swings shut behind her.
I slide into the styling chair, still radiating Mrs. Fox's warmth, my feet dangling inches from the footrest.
"So." Grandma smiles at me in the mirror as she drapes a cape around my shoulders. "What are we thinking for school pictures this year?"
I give a tiny shrug, looking down at my lap, the movement barely visible under the cape.
Her brows furrow, and she spins my chair around, her warm brown eyes searching my face. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Talk to me."
Heat builds behind my eyes, and I blink hard, my chin trembling as I fight back tears.
Without a word, she pulls me into her arms. I inhale her soothing floral scent and suddenly, small tears trail along my cheeks.
"Some girls at school." The words come out muffled against her shoulder. "They said... they said I was ugly."
She pulls back, hands cupping my face. "Well, those girls must have forgotten their glasses at home this morning." She taps my nose gently and winks. "Trust me, sweetheart. I do half this town's hair, and every single mama who sits in that chair tells me you're the prettiest little thing in your whole grade."
A tiny bubble of warmth expands in my chest, pushing against the cold weight that's been sitting there since recess.
She spins me back toward the mirror and picks up her scissors. "Now, how about I give you a haircut that'll make those mean girls think twice before messing with you again? And while I work, you can tell me exactly what happened."
I nod, and watch her reflection as she sections my hair with her comb. "These girls… they cornered me in the bathroom… they said I was a violet-eyed witch."
Snip. The first piece of hair falls. Grandma's expression remains perfectly neutral in the mirror, her focus entirely on the precise angle of her scissors as she listens.
"And then one of them said..." I swallow hard. "She said I'll probably present as an ugly beta who'll be alone forever because even other betas won't want me."
The scissors continue their steady rhythm. "You know what that tells me, sweetheart? Those girls are scared."
"Scared?" My eyebrows shoot up, and I twist slightly to look at her directly before she gently turns my head back forward. "Scared of what?"
"Scared of how bright you shine." She combs through another section. "When people are cruel like that, it's because they see something in you they wish they had."
