## The long weekend was finally over. Gwen took a shower. Once the rusty part of the water got out of the way, the rest was fine. She let the hot water sandblast her skin for twenty minutes. She could never get enough of a shower. It felt so good to be warm, naked, wet but safe. The image of Mary’s ambiguous smile when she caught her with the panties kept flashing back to Gwen’s mind, as rivulets of water teased her neck and back and inner thighs and she bent forward to shave her legs. Finally the moment came when she felt she had to shut off the faucets. The old water heater would be spent soon anyway. She reached past the faded blue shower curtain and grabbed a towel off the rack, bringing it back inside the shower with a minimum of cold breeze. She dried her hair and torso briskly, but gently patted her shaven legs. They felt fresh and good, and even better after they were lotioned up and she had put cotton leggings on. She grabbed a t-shirt and a flannel off the pile of laundry on her bed, and headed downstairs, awake enough now not to dread everything so much. Coffee. The routine was simple, but right at the end, a noise from somewhere in the house threw her off and she tossed the whole filter basket into the trash can instead of just the filter and the grounds. Her heart thumped madly as she fished it out, rinsed it and her hands off in the sink. Had it come from the basement? Something could have just fallen over. It was a chaotic mess down there, after all. The house was big and rambling and dilapidated. Pipes and planks made weird noises all the time. She decided she didn’t have time to think about it. One more tardy first hour, and they would start harrassing her to stay after school again. How freaking childish. She went out the back door, grabbing a faded red hoodie off a hook in the mud room. She pushed the door shut behind her; it didn’t latch unless you pushed it hard. Shit, nothing for lunch. There were a couple of apples left on the apple tree. They didn’t look great, but she plucked them and stuck them in the pocket of her sweatshirt. Leaves made papery noises and the toes of her shoes got wet as Mary walked southwest through backyards, weedlots, and alleys toward the town’s paltry little high school. Out front over the grubby parking lot was a sign ::with an insulting mascot.:: Gwen glanced with mild distaste at the comically warpainted Indian. The letters *HOME OF THE BRAVES* looked as dumpy and homely as a roadside ice-cream drive-in. There was really no one here she wanted to see, she thought, as she avoided eye contact in the main hall. Well, except— her cheeks reddened and she actually smiled to herself as she made her way to her locker. She set the thermal coffee cup on the top shelf—she would get it later; different teachers had different pointless rules, and first hour was a bear—and grabbed a couple of books and ratty spiral notebooks out of the pile of junk in the bottom. She wasn’t late, no-one had done or said anything particularly stupid yet, other than the general din of stupidity all around her of course, but that was to be expected, like the weather. It was almost a good day so far. She even almost made it to first hour. Gwen. The voice had the too-friendly saccharine mixed with self-conscious nobility of purpose that could only belong to one person. Gwen honey, I need to talk to you for just a minute. I’ll let your teacher know and give you a pass. Gwen sighed as heavily as she could without being too audible, and followed the principal to her office. People weren’t staring. That was not a good sign. When they conspicuously didn’t stare, that’s when you knew they would be talking.