Chapter 48

And then fingertips are digging into his scalp, pressing hard, but he doesn't flinch away, doesn't complain. These men have rescued him--he's free, beyond all hope, beyond anything--and he'll do whatever they ask, whatever they want, so he tries to sit obediently still as the fingers press in harder. Curly's eyes are closed, and he's sweating now, thin trickles running slowly down his temples.

He can almost feel it on his own skin, like an itch on the inside of his head. He tries to sit still, tries to be good--they've rescued him, he's safe, and he's oh so grateful--but now that he's noticed it, it won't go away, and it's driving him insane. Itchitchitch, and now he's starting to sweat too. His stomach is flopping slowly around in his gut. So, he reaches up--just a small movement, a quick scratch and then he'll sit still again--but when he touches his head, all his hair is gone.

He can't help the little gasp.

Did he have lice? Did he misbehave and they've punished him?