Free Summer of the War by Gloria Whelan Page B

favorite place just as she knew mine. I headed for a grove of cedars not far from the cottage. For some reason the cedars had formed a kind of circle. Nancy called it a fairy ring and always checked it on the night of a full moon to see if there were any signs of fairies dancing. Inside the ring of trees was a small circle of grass where Emily liked to curl up and read, pleased to be so close to everyone but still invisible.
    I found her sobbing.
    â€œEm, what is it?” As I put my arms around her, her sun hat fell off. “Oh! Em!” Her hair was the brassy orange-yellow of an egg yolk. “What happened to you!”
    She was sobbing harder than ever. I could just make out her words. “She did it. I wanted blond hair like hers, and she said she would bleach it.”
    I knew now what Carrie had bought in Birch Bay. Bleach for Emily’s hair. “It will grow out,” I promised Emily.
    She wiped her eyes and snuffled. “It’ll take forever. It was awful when I looked in the mirror. It’s not me anymore. She’s taken me away. I hate her for doing that to me.”
    â€œCarrie didn’t mean it to turn out like that. She feels as bad as you do.”
    It was late afternoon before I could calm Emily down enough to get her into the cottage and up to her bedroom. When I brought Grandma up to see Emily, she was horrified.
    â€œThat was a thoughtless thing for Carrie to do,” Grandma said. “She’s older than Emily and should have known better.” It was the first criticism of Carrie I had heard Grandma make.
    She tried to comfort Emily. “We’ll have it cut short, dear, and by the time the summer is over, it’ll be mostly grown out.”
    Emily refused to go into Birch Bay to the barbershop. Instead she let Grandpa cut it.
    â€œNothing to it,” he said. “I used to help shear the sheep on the farm when I was a boy.” He tried to make a joke out of it, but I could see he was angry with Carrie.
    â€œYou were very foolish, Carrie,” he told her.
    This time Carrie didn’t answer back. She stood there rigid and silent, as if at the least movement she would break apart. Later I found her in our room looking miserable. “No matter what I do,” she said, “it’s the wrong thing. Emily begged me to bleach her hair. I thought I was doing her a favor. She was the only one of you who liked me, and now she hates me.”
    â€œShe doesn’t hate you—she’s just disappointed. She’ll get over it. And as for her being the only one of us who likes you, that’s not true. We all like you. Just give us a chance.” I took a deep breath. “I like you. Honest.”
    Carrie gave me a searching look. I have to admit I’m not too good at hiding my feelings, but at that moment, if I didn’t exactly like Carrie, I felt sorry for her. I guess that was enough for her, because she gave me a weak smile.
    Emily kept to herself, curled up on the porch swing with a book or hidden away in the birch circle. We all tried not to look at her hair, pretending we had just met one another and were showing off how polite we were.
    Tommy couldn’t stand the gloom that had settledover everyone. The second day in the middle of lunch he said in a loud voice, “I don’t see why it’s such a big deal. Goldfinches are bright yellow all summer, and then in the fall they turn a brownish green.”
    We all stared at him. Only Tommy would compare Emily to a goldfinch. I couldn’t keep a straight face. Grandma and Grandpa started to laugh.
    Emily glowered at Tommy. “I’m not a goldfinch,” she said. A minute later she was smiling. Suddenly all the tension was gone. We knew one day this would just be the summer Carrie bleached Emily’s hair and it would be a family joke, something to make us all laugh. We were back together again, and even Carrie smiled.

Seven
    July smothered us. It was hot every