Don't Look Behind You by Lois Duncan

reservations have been made under your new names. That way, your tracks will be covered.”
    Up until then, life had seemed to be stopped in a holding pattern like a frame of a broken movie reel. Now, abruptly, the film was running at triple speed, and in one brief moment we were jerked into frantic motion. For the next ten minutes we dashed about, grabbing clothing and tossing our scattered belongings into suitcases.
    We were ready to walk out the door when Rita said, “Wait a minute. Something has to be done about Valerie’s hair.”
    At first I didn’t take in who it was she was talking about. Then, with a start, I remembered that I was Valerie.
    â€œWhat’s wrong with my hair?” I asked nervously.
    â€œIt’s much too eye-catching. The color and length will make you stand out in a crowd. We’re going to have to cut it before we leave here.”
    â€œNo!” I cried. “I’ve been growing my hair for years!” My hands flew up protectively to cover my head. “I’ll wear a wig or a scarf, but I’m not going to cut it!”
    â€œIt’s much too long to fit under a wig,” Rita said. “As for a scarf, nobody wears scarves in the summertime. Most physical characteristics can’t be changed, but we can change the length of your hair, and it’s important we do it.”
    â€œMom!” I cried in anguish. “You aren’t going to let her?”
    But even as I spoke, I knew it was hopeless. Mom had never worried about appearances, and her own short hair was cut in a blow-dry style that Lorelei and I had always agreed looked terrible.
    I wasn’t given time to argue my case. Within minutes I was standing in the bathroom with a towel draped over my shoulders and my eyes screwed shut so I wouldn’t have to watch in the mirror as Rita hacked off my beautiful hair with fingernail scissors and Mom gathered it up and put it in the wastebasket. Then we piled into Rita’s car, a compact too small for five people, and sped back along the freeway toward the Richmond airport. The wind stroked the back of my neck with alien fingers, and despite the heat of the day, I found myself shivering.
    During the drive, Rita issued a string of admonishments about what we were to do once we arrived in Grove City. When we reached the airport, she pulled into a loading zone and kept the engine running while she distributed our plane tickets and handed Dad the folder of official documents. Then she wished us luck and drove away quickly, leaving me with the feeling that she was grateful to be done with us. Once inside the airport, we paired off and proceeded on to the gate as we had been instructed.
    Mom and I entered the metal detector through one doorway, and Dad and Bram through another, and we sat at opposite ends of the waiting area, counting the minutes until flight time and trying to behave as though we didn’t know each other. When the boarding call came, Dad and Bram went first, jumping up from their chairs and hurrying to the front of the line. Bram was having one of his hyper spells, hanging on to Dad’s hand and bouncing along excitedly like a rubber ball on the end of an elastic band.
    Mom and I hung back and fell into line with some late- arriving passengers. When we reached the door to the ramp we displayed our boarding passes and new passports and waited while the attendant examined them. He seemed to be taking a great deal longer than necessary, and I felt a sudden chill of apprehension. What do we do, I asked myself, if there is a problem with our tickets? What if they want more identification?
    As it turned out, I didn’t have to worry, for there wasn’t a problem. The attendant tore off the tops of our tickets and handed back the stubs.
    â€œEnjoy your flight,” he said with a friendly smile and waved us down the ramp and onto the plane.
    By the time we entered the cabin, Dad and Bram were nowhere in sight, having