Grandma called down the hall. “We’re going to be late for church.” Nadine stifled a wave of impatience with her dear grandma as she straightened a cream-colored sweater over her rust wool skirt and tugged on the elastic holding her hair. It snapped against her hand and her hair slid loose. “Are you coming?” Grandma called again. Nadine glanced at the clock and, with a frustrated sigh, grabbed her purse from the bed and slung it over her shoulder. She stopped at the bathroom long enough to quickly brush her hair and grimace at yet another reflection of herself. She felt self-conscious wearing her hair down. A ponytail was far easier, but she could find no elastics in the bathroom, either. Down it would have to stay, she thought. “Nadine.” Grandma’s voice was uncharacteristically sharp, and Nadine threw the brush into the drawer. “Coming, coming,” she muttered as she ran down the hallway. Grandma waited in the porch, her mouth pursed in disapproval. “What took you so long?”
