Saturday was her study day, and she went at it all day and into the night. The rumor that the teachers would cut them some slack now that they were past the first year turned out to be false. I sat in the back yard Sunday afternoon to wait for her.
Dara came out to join me mid-afternoon. She broke the silence: "The hair is still a problem, isn't it?"
"Yes." I couldn't deny it. "Of course, you've had longer to get used to it."
"Yes, but I don't think that's what's bothering you. Tell me, Canyon."
"I don't know," I stammered. I didn't want to. I was afraid she would think I was selfish.
"Remember, we promised." She was right; I had no choice now. I was as nervous as a man approaching a possibly live grenade, awaiting an explosion at any moment.
"I'm sorry, Dara. You're going to think I
