After school she beat Lia to the bus. She still wore the damp pull-up, but the coast wasn’t clear to change it in the bathroom. As embarrassed as she was by her daytime accidents, she would be more embarrassed if someone, especial Julia Grass, discovered her pull-ups.
“Hi,” said Lia as she sat beside her.
“Sorry about the conversation,” said Deborah, “I was really nervous.”
“What?” said Lia, “We got an A. We got the five bonus points for going first. You already got an A in almost everything in Spanish.”
“I’m still worried about the final,” Deborah admitted.
“Seniors are exempt from finals in classes where they have an A,” said Lia. “I probably only have to take my Calculus and Physics final. You would have to really mess up to need to take a final in any class. Maybe in English though. Grosstree hates you.”
At least she didn’t have to worry about finals. That only left a few more weeks to worry about. The bus stopped at her house before she knew it. “Get my homework assignments for me tomorrow. I will miss morning classes.” She got off the bus and went home.
“So how was your day?” ask her mother. “Did you stay dry okay?”
“Mother,” Deborah said.
“Well if you’re not you need to tell the doctor tomorrow.”
“No, I’m dry.” The wetness in her pull-up was just from being nervous. “I’m going upstairs to do homework,” she said.
Upstairs she changed clothes and put on a new pull-up. She only had homework in Physics and English tonight and English was just a reading assignment. She worked on the last two questions in Physics and read more of the Scarlett Letter. She only came down for dinner.
After dinner, this time she made sure to shower and put on a diaper before going to sleep. She certainly did not want a repeat of the night before.
The terrorist and the truck was back. This time the terrorist had a green T at his collar. She looked down at her body. Her pajama top was unbuttoned and at her breast was a greenish T-shaped mark on her chest like a festering wound. She screamed and woke up. She felt her diaper. She was wet again. She turned on the light and opened her pajama top: no mark on her chest.
It was still early: only one o’clock. Deborah tried to go back to sleep. How could she enjoy reading ever again if she incorporated everything she read into her dreams. That would not work and it would have to stop. She tried to think of happier times. Maybe that is what it would take to finally fall asleep.