” She was sounding a bit criticised, though I’d done my best. Her hair wasn’t layered it just stopped, and the fringe was surely all wrong for h...r round face. It looked like her wretched mother cut it in three minutes flat.“Well we could just ask. I thought girls are always changing their hair?” I sat next to her, arms and thighs touching.“Other girls are.”“It wouldn’t cost anything.”Faye didn’t speak. I put an arm round her, and she leaned into me at least.“She was one of my pupils,” I carried. Flexalways greeted her with a hug. She hated to admit it,but she was slightly racist. She didn’t believe blackswere inferior or anything, but she didn’t think theraces should mix and didn’t like having physical contactwith black men outside of a handshake. Flex grabbed her hips with his ham-like hands and pulledher forcefully against his chest. Marisa grinned andbore it. It was like hugging a brick wall, correction, asun heated, sweaty black brick wall. Much to. More

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