Mark was left alone with a girl of his age in the yard. She was carrying a thick, dark brown book. One about Sherlock Holmes. Mark was surprised she didn’t wear thick, dark glasses like most bookworms do.
He studied the girl, who stared back, expressionless.
She was thin, very thin for her age. And small. Her oversized T-shirt and sweat pants made her look even thinner, smaller, and younger.
Her bright, intelligent eyes were interesting. But it was her hair…
The blond hair was woven into braids – if the wild, fuzzy tangles could be called braids. The loose curls gave her an unkempt appearance, as if she had her hair done last night and she had awakened this morning from a nightmare.