Everything about her classroom fantasy that had excited her just a few minutes ago, now repulsed her. She wanted to be dead, buried or, better yet, burned. The world didn’t deserve her miserable, unfaithful body. She wanted to evaporate, combust, disappear forever. “Hey, Deb.” Deb glanced to her left, toward the bleachers, at the smiling face of Grace Shapiro, the mom of Aiden who was on Justin’s swim team. Deb had to smile back—talk about being fake—and said, “Hey, how are you?” “Great, thanks,” Grace said. “Are you just getting here?” “No, I was here before, I just had to take a call.” “Oh, too bad,” Grace said. “I love your hair, did you get it cut?” Fighting off an image of Owen grabbing a fistful of her hair as he leaned close to her ear, grunting, You like that, student? You like that, right? she said to Grace, “Um, no, not recently.” “Well, I love it,” Grace said. Deb managed a half smile then went and sat in the same spot in the bleachers she’d sat in before, still feeling filthy.
