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So I am going to start posting books here:
I scowl with frustration at myself in the mirror. Damn my hair – it just won’t behave,
and damn Katherine Kavanagh for being ill and subjecting me to this ordeal. I should be
studying for my final exams, which are next week, yet here I am trying to brush my hair
into submission. I must not sleep with it wet. I must not sleep with it wet. Reciting this
mantra several times, I attempt, once more, to bring it under control with the brush. I roll
my eyes in exasperation and gaze at the pale, brown-haired girl with blue eyes too big for
her face staring back at me, and give up. My only option is to restrain my wayward hair in
a ponytail and hope that I look semi presentable.