Just Like Her

Chapter 68

Emma

"You've got really pretty hair," Alice declared from her seat by the window

I frowned and self-consciously padded my exploding bun as I dropped myself in the chair beside her. "Thanks, Alice. That's... kind of you to say.

"It's prettier than my hair," she shrugged before gesturing to the sparkly knit-cap covering her bald head for good measure.

"And that's not so kind to say," I sighed as she turned back to gazing out the window.

It was grey and raining, not much of a view to from my vantage point, so I turned instead to look at Alice. Even under the fluorescent lighting of the hospital, she seemed to glow.

"I like your hat," I declared in return.

Alice grinned mischievously. "Mum said I have to wear something to cover my head."

"To keep off the cold?" I guessed.

She shrugged, not taking her eyes off the window. "I think it's because bald kids make people uncomfortable. I think she was hoping I'd choose to wear a wig."

"And I'm guessing your mother was sorely disappointed," I teased.

Alice nodded enthusiastically. "Yessiree!"

I laughed at her expression and felt some of the heaviness from my fight earlier with Tom dissipate.

Shifting my gaze to the window, I tried to see what she was so intently peering.

We sat in silence for several minutes, until I finally broke it with a question.

"Would you ever want one? A wig I mean."

She shook her head, no. "Mum forced me to try one on once, though. The thing was ghastly—and unfathomably itchy."

I hummed softly and we returned to our silence.

I squinted my eyes and was forced to admit the misty rain had a slight silvery coloring to it if you looked hard enough. There was an fantastical quality to the picture, like some element of reality was missing... My breath caught when it suddenly dawned on me that it was the absence of shadows.

I couldn't help but grin, stupidly proud of myself for making the observation. I opened my mouth to ask Alice if she had noticed it, too, when she began to speak again.

"Some kids like them though," she murmured not taking her eyes from the window. "Suppose it makes it easier to pretend they're not sick."

"And you wouldn't want that?" I asked her quietly.

"Don't need it," she shrugged simply. "I'm not as sick as the rest of them, and on my bad days I've got our story."

I caught her looking over at me and I grinned back. "Our story helps me on my bad days, too."

Alice smiled before turning back to peering out the window. Slowly her face fell into a frown as her eyebrows knit together. I was about to ask her what was wrong, when she suddenly told me.

"You said you weren't famous. That day in the garden."

I immediately closed my eyes and fought off a grimace.

Of course she'd seen the news. She was a teenager stuck in a hospital. Where else did she have to go but the Internet?

For the first time during our increasingly frequent meetings, I hesitated before confessing the truth: "I didn't want you to think I was just a girlfriend."

Alice's frown deepened as she turned to face me, her expression incredulous. "Why would I ever think that? You're a writer."

A goofy smile tugged on my lips, and for the second time that day I sincerely wished I could see the world as Alice did.

"Yeah," I nodded. "I am."

Alice worried her bottom lip. "They seem really mad."

I attempted to shrug nonchalantly. "People tend to get that way when you speak truth to power."

She seemed to accept that response as she nodded and turned back to the window. "Does The Extraordinary Alice speak truth to power?"

I thought for a moment before shaking my head. "No. She roars."

* * *

Since the horrible day in Rufus's office and my subsequent resignation from The Print, I'd completely forgotten about the social media accounts Trisha had urged me to set up. I'd only used them for work, but they were technically my own personal accounts. I hesitated before opening them up one by one.

The sheer number of notifications, tags, and personal messages were overwhelming. They ranged from supportive... fans—as I suppose Trisha would call them—to very harsh critics. There were a few that threatened violence, particularly sexual violence, and those I quickly reported and blocked before signing off.

Still, their ugly words collided in my head, ricocheting their angry voices to a volume that made me grit my teeth.

I glared at my reflection in the mirror hanging in front of my chair. She arched a brow in blatant challenge.

What would The Extraordinary Alice do? She demanded.

"Roar," I gritted as I reopened my phone and set off a series of tweets.

The last post sent just as the hairstylist appeared behind me with a glass of lemon water. I clicked my phone off and accepted the drink with a smile.

"So," she inhaled as she stepped behind me and tilted her head at our reflections. "What are we thinking?"

"Does this salon donate hair?"

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@EmmaHenderson: As it appears to be morally offensive for a woman to express an opinion, I'll just share some facts: (1/5)

Currently, over 68.5M people around the world are living in forced displacement. That's equivalent to the entire British population (+2M more) becoming refugees overnight. (2/5)

The vast majority of these refugees are taken in by poor countries—not wealthy, western countries. In fact, the UN estimates that 85% of the world's refugees are taken in by developing countries. (3/5)

Of EU countries, the UK isn't even the largest recipient of asylum applications. That title is shared between Germany & France. By contrast, the UK has received a grand total of 6% of all asylum claims made in the EU last year. (4/5)

Asylum seekers in the UK who do happen to receive government assistance have to manage to survive on £5 per day. Let that sink in for a moment... £5. Per. Day. (5/5)

[A/N: Thank you for reading! In case you're wondering, yes those stats are real and they come from Refugee Council. You can check out their website to learn more.

Please don't forget to VOTE & COMMENT on each chapter!

Gratitude shouts of the week go to @Queenie273 & the fabulous @Dive4gold ❤️ ]