Laila did, but she knew even before she did, what he'd meant about it not showing in her hair.
She let out a high-pitched yelp. At this, the boys hooted even harder.
Laila turned around and, howling, ran home. She drew water from the well, and, in the bathroom, filled a basin, tore off her clothes.
She soaped her hair, frantically digging fingers into her scalp, whimpering with disgust.
She rinsed with a bowl and soaped her hair again. Several times, she thought she might throw up.
She kept mewling and shivering, as she rubbed and rubbed the soapy washcloth against her face and neck until they reddened.
This would have never happened if Tariq had been with her, she thought as she put on a clean shirt and fresh trousers.
Khadim wouldn't have dared. Of course, it wouldn't have happened if Mammy had shown up like she was supposed to either.
Sometimes Laila wondered why Mammy had even bothered having her.
People, she believed now, shouldn't be allowed to have new children if they'd already given away all their love to their old ones.
It wasn't fair. A fit of anger claimed her. Laila went to her room, collapsed on her bed.
When the worst of it had passed, she went across the hallway to Mammy's door and knocked.
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