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The streak of bleach in my hair is as obvious as ever. Am I really going out in public like this? I push my hair backward and forward a few times – but I can’t hide it. Maybe I could walk along with my hand carelessly positioned at my head, as if I’m thinking hard. I attempt a few casual, pensive poses in the mirror.”Is your head all right?”I swivel round in shock to see Nathaniel at the open door, wearing a plaid shirt and jeans.”Er…fine,” I say, my hand still glued to my head. “I was just…”Oh, there’s no point. I bring my hand down from my hair and Nathaniel regards the streak for a moment.”It looks nice,” he says. “Like a badger.””A badger?” I say, affronted. “I don’t look like a badger.””Badgers are beautiful creatures,” says Nathaniel with a shrug. “I’d rather look like a badger than a stoat.
