“I swear, Angela,” said Bridget’s mother when she came to wake her up for school and saw the wet sheets. “What is this? The second day in a row? I won’t mention the accidents you had Wednesday.”

Bridget looked toward her mother. “I’ve been having bad dreams at night,” she said. She did not want to tell her about her regular bad dreams and she definitely did not want to tell her about her body jumping.

“We will talk about this later. Get ready for school and come down for breakfast.” Her mother walked toward the door, but turned back to face Bridget. “We need to have a talk after school.” She left Bridget alone.

Bridget went to the bathroom and peeled off her wet pajama bottoms. This had to stop. There was no way she could continue waking up wet every morning that she had been in Angela’s body. She was at a loss. The hot shower water rinsed the pee smell from her legs and crotch. Her hands rubbed the soap against her skin. It was much softer than her skin had been before when she was Bridget, but of course, Angela was much younger. Her hair was an actual color: a deep, rich brown that contrasted with her milky white skin. It was a lot better than the mouse brown her old hair had been, plus it was straight and smooth. She wondered why Angela wasn’t more popular.

She wasn’t in the in crowd because she was smart. Lia had confirmed that, and besides, her accident in school did not help matters. Lia said people would forget about it soon, but she doubted it. She still remembered the girl in seventh grade who wet her pants before giving a presentation in English class.

She stepped out of the shower, toweled herself off and hurried to her room to dress. She chose a plaid skirt and a white top–the Catholic look would always be in–and headed down stairs for breakfast. She smelled bacon and eggs as she walked down the stairs to the kitchen.

A man, sitting at the table looked up from a newspaper and greeted her, “Hey, pumpkin, did anything exciting happen when I was gone.”

She looked at her mother who shook her head. “No, sir.” She pulled out her chair and sat down.

“Why so formal today?” he asked.

Bridget’s father had been in the military and expected her to say “yes, sir” and “no, sir”. This would take some getting used to. At least she was able to spread out the misery a bit. “Sorry, Dad.” Sooner or later someone would think her miscues were strange and they might find she wasn’t who they thought she was.

“I missed you when I was away.”

“I missed you too, Dad.”

“Well, I better get to work.” Her father folded his newspaper and walked out the door.

Bridget sat and ate her breakfast.

“Now remember we need to have a talk when you get home,” her mother said.

“It’s going to be about my punishment for wetting the bed. Isn’t it?” She wondered what her mother could have in store for her. Fear of punishment might make things worse. She knew that a punishment wouldn’t make the dreams go away. Nothing would.

“It is about your bedwetting,” her mother said, “but don’t think of it as a punishment.” She picked up Bridget’s empty plate and took it to the dishwasher. “Now catch you bus before you get left behind.”

Bridget hurried out to the bus ready to begin class

Like yesterday, Bridget rode the bus sitting next to Lia. “I’m so glad it is Friday,” she said. “So are we going to work on Spanish after school?” She really needed help to get through her Spanish conversation. She had tried reading through it, but had trouble with her pronunciation.

“Well, I thought we’d see Star Trek and then study.” Lia looked at her and smiled. “You can stay over at my house and then we can stay up as late as we need to get through the entire conversation.”

“Lia, I don’t think it would be a good idea to stay at your house.”

Lia looked hurt. “I thought you would protest going to see Star Trek. We could see a romantic comedy if you insist, then you can come over.”

“Star Trek is fine,” Bridget said. She wanted to see it, but did not want to wait too long to get studying. She certainly didn’t want to spend the night and wake up wet at Lia’s house. “I just don’t want to sleep over.”

“We have fun. We’re best friends,” Lia protested. “Why don’t you?”

Bridget would have to tell Lia the real reason she couldn’t come over. Bridget sighed. “You can’t tell anyone what I am telling you.” She paused and felt her face burn red. “It’s like this. This is really embarrassing so you can’t tell anyone.” She waited until Lia nodded. “Ever since Wednesday I’ve…” She leaned in close to Lia and whispered, “I’ve been wetting the bed.”

“You what!” Bridget had to clamp her hand over Lia’s mouth to keep her from blurting out.

“Be quiet,” she whispered loudly. “I don’t need that fact spread over the school too.”

“That’s why you don’t want to come over, isn’t it?” Lia leaned closer. “You don’t need to be embarrassed. I’m your friend.”

“Me, too,” she said. “Thanks.” She still needed that Spanish study session or she would be lost on Monday. “If you want, you can come over to my house after the movie and study.”

“That would be good,” said Lia.

The bus arrived at school just in time. Calculus and Physics were uneventful. In the halls between classes other students would point and start whispering. She knew they were talking about her accident on Wednesday. (Rather Angela’s accident as she did not trade bodies with Angela until after she had the accident.)

She made sure to use the bathroom before English class. It was Mrs. Miller who had not let Angela use the bathroom in the first place which caused the whole episode. She did not know whether to blame her for the extra life on her conscious or thank her that she was still alive albeit in a different body. She met with Lia before class.

“Ready to face Grosstree?” she asked as they took their seats in the classroom.

“Sure,” Bridget muttered. She had spent Calculus and Physics reading Brave New World under her desk. It was really a different type of totalitarianism than 1984. One was awful in the creepy jack-booted-thug sort of way, but the other was a overly friendly creepiness. By Ford, it was beyond screwed up.

“It’s Mrs. Miller now, dork,” said a sarcastic voice behind them. “She’s only been married for two months already. Can’t you adjust?”

Lia turned and stuck her tongue out. “Does it matter, Cindy?”

Before Cindy could come up with a retort, class started. They started right away with Brave New World discussion. Bridget tried her best to stay out of the discussion. At least in this class she didn’t have to hide the book in her lap and look under her desk as she read it. She simply had it open on her desk and read through it. Easy as pie.

She had to answer a question about what type of clone Lanina was. “Beta,” she said, “although Henry was an Alpha.”

“I can see you finally read the book, Angela,” said her teacher. “Everyone, papers are due Monday at the beginning of class.” The bell rang. “Class dismissed.”

Bridget and Lia got out of class quickly and went down to the cafeteria. “What joy do we have today?”

Lia looked up at the menu board. “It says Frito pie. There should be some kind of truth in advertising: chili poured over corn chips.”

“I actually like that,” Bridget said. She pulled a plastic spork from the container and grabbed a tray of food.

“Is this from Miss ‘It Tastes Like Prison Food?’” Lia took her own tray and they found a table together.

“Even in prison Frito pie has to be good,” Bridget said. Sadly, it had been the only thing she looked forward to during her twelve years on death row. She couldn’t go to the weekly movies they played for the general population because of security. She could read or listen to the radio. She mainly read.

“Whatever,” said Lia. She took a bite of her food.

“About tonight,” Bridget asked, “when does the movie start?”

“They’re showing it on a million screens, so there is one every half hour. I would like to go to an earlier showing so we can study earlier. How about just ride the bus to my house and we’ll drive to the theater. My brother is letting me drive his car.”

“Um, I can’t then. I got to go home so my mother can chew me out for peeing the bed.” Bridget’s face reddened. “My dad got home and she was too busy to finish chewing me out.”

“Oh he was at the execution of that horrible…”

Bridget didn’t wait. She got up and ran from the table to the bathroom. She remembered the pattering pee falling beneath her chair on Wednesday and she didn’t want a repeat accident here. Fortunately she made it to the bathroom dry. She used the restroom and returned to the table. “Lia, please don’t talk about Bridget Addison in my presence again. Especially at school. It is nightmares about her that give me problems at night.”

“What kind of…” Lia began. “Oh.” She looked at her with doe eyes. “I’m sorry.”

The rest of lunch was spent in silence until the bell rang. It was frustrating Bridget to no end that she couldn’t keep the bed dry for one night since her metamorphosis. It was almost a relief when the bell rang and she could go to class.

Fundamentals of Computers was next. She sat down at her place and logged into her machine. She still needed her notes to remember the password. She had logged in by the time Lia arrived at the place beside her.

“You got all quiet on me at lunch,” said Lia. “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” Bridget answered. “I was just thinking about stuff. Thanks for not bolting on me when I told you my secret.”

“We’re friends. I wouldn’t bolt on you.”

“Thanks.”

“Besides,” said Lia. She opened the drawer under her computer and pulled out a gamepad. “I need you on my team for Friday LAN party. I hope you finished your PowerPoint.”

Bridget wondered if you took turns playing or what. She hadn’t played video games in years. She had played Doom and Sim City, but that had been ages ago.

Ms. Hardy, the computer teacher walked around the room. “Put your thumb drives in the basket if you are finished with your assignment.” She carried the basket around the class room. Lia threw her thumb drive into the basket and Bridget did the same. Some of the students started to work on their assignments instead of turning it in. The rest of the class pulled game controllers from the drawer beneath their computers and started to play games.

Bridget started the same game as Lia. It looked like a shooting game, but a screen came up and asked what server she wanted to join. There was a list. “What server do I put?” she asked Lia.

“Are you having memory problems, Angela?” Lia looked worried. “It seems that since Wednesday’s incident, you’ve asked questions that you should know and it’s really creeping me out.”

Bridget froze. She could feel the blood drain from her face. Lia knew. “Umm,” she said while stalling for time. She forced herself to calm down. Lia couldn’t know the whole story. Jumping from body to body was crazy. It only happened in science fiction stories. Lia liked science fiction almost as much as she did, but Lia knew that Angela liked romance and she gave her a dig about reading too much romance.

“I’ve been going through a lot of stress recently with graduation coming up, needing a new prom date, and Spanish. It’s everything at once.” She smiled. “Did you think I was a pod person?”

“Pod person?” asked Lia.

“Invasion of the Body Snatchers. And I thought you liked science fiction.”

“We’re on server B2,” said Lia. Her face pinkened with embarrassment over my remark. “We’re Blue team,” she added when Bridget almost picked Red.

It was a shooting game like Doom. There were no cheat codes like in Doom and the graphics were far better: no pixilation or anything. It was a lot more complicated. Her screen flashed red and her gun began to shake on the screen as her view shifted vertical to horizontal. The words, “Fragged you Accident Girl,” appeared on the screen.

They did the same thing over and over until she got a handle on the controls and how the game worked. The next time they came around she shot them with her shotgun and ran across the screen to a more defensible position. She pulled out the sniper rifle and just killed Red Team players for the rest of the class period.

In Spanish she had to pay attention. She was lost most of the class because the teacher taught it in Spanish. If only the teacher taught German instead. She could ace that, or at least relearn it. The Spanish teacher asked Lia something and she nodded and said, “Si.” Then she asked Bridget the same thing.

She took a fifty-fifty chance and said, “Si.” The teacher seemed pleased by her remark.

“Everyone, conversations are due next week. Angela and Lia volunteered to go first, so they get five bonus points. We will have a test next Friday. You should be able to handle it easily. It is on chapter eighteen in your book.”

The bell rang and Bridget hurried to study hall. She got the pre-Calculus done fairly quickly and was about to pull Brave New World out to read, but the bell rang. She hurried to the bus. At least she had the weekend to get caught up. She hoped she could make it through Spanish and graduate.

On the bus ride home, Lia seemed excited. She chattered constantly about what she heard on the Internet about Star Trek and how when the new Spock did a mind meld, he gave a whole new meaning to the term “my mind to your mind.”

“I don’t get it,” said Bridget.

“Because Zachary Quinto plays Siler on Heros.” She paused to see if I recognized what she was talking about. “And Siler eats peoples’ brains.”

“Ick,” said Bridget. “I don’t think I want to watch Heros.”

“Don’t worry,” said Lia, “I won’t watch it anymore after this season. I’ll pick you up in an hour,” she said.

The bus stopped in front of Angela’s house. Bridget hadn’t even noticed. She got off the bus and went into the house to have the talk with her mother.

“How was school, Angela?” asked her mother.

“Fine,” she answered.

“Sit down and let’s talk.”

Bridget sat down on the couch and her mother sat beside her. “You wet the bed two nights in a row and on Wednesday you not only had an accident in school, but you had another one at the dinner table. I’m worried about you.”

“I…,” Bridget started to say, but stopped. She didn’t know what to say at all. She was going to be grounded, she knew it and then she would do horrible in Spanish and maybe not get into college. She hoped she could do well if she failed the conversation assignment. She bite her lip and looked at her mother. “How long am I grounded for?” she asked.

“I’m not punishing you. I am sure you didn’t mean to have accidents, but I am getting tired of washing your sheets every morning. Just because I work at home doesn’t mean I have time to deal with your laundry every day. I have deadlines you know.”

“All right, I will try not to wet the bed,” said Bridget. She knew she would anyway.

“I think maybe you should wear protection to bed,” her mother said. “I bought you something to wear to protect your sheets.”

“What do you mean?” asked Bridget.

“Come on up to your room.” Her mother led the way to Bridget’s bedroom. On her bed was a package of Depends.

“There is no way I am going to wear diapers,” said Bridget. “I thought you said you wouldn’t punish me.”

“It’s just for night. No one will ever know. You don’t have to wake up in wet sheets anymore.”

“I can’t. Lia is going to spend the night. I don’t want her to see me in diapers.”

“I’ll put them in your closet then.” Her mother carried the bag of diapers to Angela’s closet. “I just thought they would be more comfortable than wet pajamas. We can try them out tomorrow night. Just try them one night and see if you like them.”

“I’ll think about them,” said Bridget. She did not want to wear diapers. Even the old people diapers her mother picked out would make her feel babyish. When her mother left, she went to her closet to pick an outfit for the movie. “Jeans and a math shirt would work. Her shirt said, “The meaning of life.” It had a sigma notation equation that worked out to forty-two. She smiled. At least the Hitchhiker’s Guide was still popular among other nerds. The doorbell rung, which meant Lia had arrived. Bridget hurried down to meet her.

“The movie was really good,” said Bridget as the two girls walked out of the theater. She was surprised that even though they stepped away from cannon, they managed to do it without pissing off the fans, herself included.

“I liked it too,” said Lia, “but now I really have to pee. I wish I didn’t drink all that soda.”

“I drank as much soda as you and I got to go too,” said Bridget. They finally got out of the hallway and then saw the huge line for the bathroom. Bridget didn’t have to go that bad. None of her accidents were from having to hold it too long, except maybe the first one. They were all from nightmares or the surprise of finding that the real Angela died in her place. Lia, however, was wiggling and crossing her legs. “Lia, want to get a slice of pie at Village Inn? We can walk across the parking lot and use the bathroom there before we even get halfway through this line.”

“Good idea,” she said.

Bridget led the way out of the theater. She resisted the urge to stop at every movie poster and see what would be playing next. The idea of seeing another movie intrigued her. She moved on.

Outside the theater, drivers sat in parked cars waiting for people. Others were standing around talking on cell phone arranging rides or regrouping with friends when they were separated in the crowd. A middle-aged man in jeans and a T-shirt walked toward the theater. He kept his salt and pepper hair trimmed close, almost like a crew cut. His gray eyes pierced through her; they felt cold and there was not a hint of compassion in them. She recognized the eyes. She dreamed of a younger version of this man every night when he hijacked her truck and ran it into the school. The owl tattoos on his arm confirmed her suspicion. This man was the hijacker. She felt numb. What could she do? Would anyone even believe her? She felt hot and moist and…

“Angela, Angela, Angela!” Lia hit her on the shoulder to get her attention. “Angela, you’re wetting yourself.”

Bridget looked down. Her jeans were soaked between her legs. She stood in a warm puddle, and she was the last one to realize it. The worse thing was it was almost summer, so it was still light enough out that it was obvious that she had soaked her jeans. People around her were staring or whispering to one another. Lia’s announcement didn’t help matters; instead it called attention to her.

Evan Fiscus and Julia Grass walked up. “It’s your pee-baby ex-girlfriend, Evan,” Julia said with a grin.

Evan’s was more shocked than anything else. “What is wrong with you, Angela? Having accidents?” He shook his head and walked away with the giggling Julia.

Bridget looked back at the man with the gray eyes and the tattoos. He had a few friends with him and they were walking back to the parking lot. Lia dragged her in the same direction and they headed toward her brother’s car.

“What happened?” she asked. “I didn’t think you had to go that bad.” She stopped and crossed her legs and then started toward her car. “I can’t let you sit in the car either. My brother has cloth seats and he will never let me use the car again if I bring it back pee stained.”

Bridget started crying. These accidents were ruining her new life. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed.

“It’s okay,” said Lia. “I am going to end up like you if I don’t find a bathroom soon,” she said.

Bridget dug in her purse for a twenty. “Get us a whole French silk pie when you go in there.” She needed comfort food after tonight’s experience. What would her mother say when she walked in the house like this?

“I can’t believe you still want pie,” said Lia, as she walked away from the car. She was shaking her head.

While Lia was gone, Bridget looked around. The terrorist and his friends got into a Prius with Washington plates. The girl was young looking, maybe nineteen or twenty. She wore a greenie shirt that said “Go Veg!” on it. The man with her was in his mid-twenties. He wore regular clothes. She watched as the Prius drove away. She didn’t know whether to be relieved they were gone, or worried about what they were about to do.

She shivered. Her pee-drenched jeans were beginning to cool and the wet clammy fabric clung to her. People driving by slowed and stared at her. She covered her wet crotch with her hand, but it only rubbed the fabric of her panties against her privates. She blushed and held her hand further in front of her. She knew she would need to explore this feeling later, but now she had more reasons to want to change into dry pants.

She thought of the past accidents and thought about what triggered them. They occurred whenever she was alarmed and scared about something to do with the attack. Last night’s bed wetting was the exception, so maybe it was an anomaly or maybe she was just off about the whole accident thing to begin with. She did know she had no way to stop them or even predict them. She thought of the bag of Depends on the floor of her closet. A tear ran down her cheek when she realized what she would have to do.

Lia came out of the restaurant about fifteen minutes later. “They didn’t have any French silk. I got Reese’s peanut butter cup pie,” she said. She unlocked the passenger side door for Bridget and took the pie out of the plastic bag. She put the bag on the seat. “You can sit on this bag,” she said. When she sat down on the plastic, Lia handed her the Styrofoam box the pie was in and went to the other side.

“Lucky you made it,” said Bridget. “You only had one bag.”

Lia ignored her. “Let’s get you home and out of those wet pants.”

“Thank you, Lia,” she said. “Most people would have stopped being my friend. I guess I am embarrassing to be around. I have this.” She pointed with both hands to her lap.

“I can’t say I am not tempted, Angela.” Lia concentrated on driving, so she did not look at her.

“I promise I won’t leave puddles behind anymore,” she said. She thought of the Depends and how she didn’t want Lia to see them. She didn’t trust herself to stay dry anymore, so she would have to show Lia before they went to bed.

“Angela, you couldn’t help it,” Lia said. “Don’t make a promise you don’t know that you can keep.”

“You’ll see what I mean when we get to my house. It’s so embarrassing wetting myself all the time. I wonder what my mother is going to say when she sees me come home like this.”

“We can stop at my house and I can run in and get something for you to change into. You’ll have to change in the car.”

She wouldn’t mind changing in the car, but she was going to wear the diapers her mother got her until it was safe. “No, I don’t want to pee on your clothes too. Let’s just get to my house.”

When she got home her mother was not too happy. “What happened, Angela?” she asked. She saw Lia come in behind her. “Lia, go on up to Angela’s room.” She turned back to Bridget. “This is getting to be a problem. I am going to make an appointment at the doctor’s office for you. Until then, we’ll put you in the Depends I bought.”

“During the day too?” Bridget asked. She didn’t blame her if her mother did make her wear them.

“That is up to you,” her mother said. “No one will know if your wear them, but they do know if you wet your pants. When Lia leaves in the morning we’ll start on the Depends. At least until the doctor tells us what is wrong.”

Bridget closed her eyes. “I’ll wear them.” If this wasn’t a punishment for wetting her pants, the whole situation was a punishment for not saving those children. “I’ll wear them now.” She kept her head down and could not even look at her mother.

“Go take a shower. I will get your things. Lia will never know you are wearing protection.”

Bridget went to the upstairs bathroom and peeled off her wet clothes. She looked at the image of Angela in the mirror. “I’m sorry things had to work out like this, kid.” By the time she showered and dried off, her mother knocked on the door.

“I got your things in my room. I didn’t want Lia to walk in while I change you.”

Bridget blushed. She never imagined having to wear diapers again. She wrapped herself in the towel and followed her mother.

“Lay down on the bed.”

Bridget complied. She closed her eyes and hoped for the diaper to be on so she could get dressed and get out of there. She waited but nothing happened.

“You need to watch me so you can do this yourself. You don’t want me to have to come to your school to change you, do you? Besides, you’re big enough to do this yourself.”

Bridget blushed. There would be no way to keep the diapers a secret if that were to happen. She watched as her mother powdered her, and taped her diaper shut. She handed her her pajamas. Bridget pulled them on. Being naked in front of this strange woman, Angela’s mother, frightened her. If she knew who Bridget really was, the woman would kill her. She felt so vulnerable.

The diaper felt thick and snug. It was thicker than the Always pads she wore during her periods. She hoped it could be hidden under her clothes. As she walked out of the room toward her own, she heard a crinkling sound. She would have to wear tight panties over the diaper or something if she wore it to school. She wondered what Lia would when she noticed. She opened the door. Lia had put on her own pajamas and was sitting on Angela’s full bed.

“Angela,” said Lia, “I was just thinking: what happens if you wet the bed tonight? Won’t you get me wet?” She wrinkled her nose when she said “me”, so Bridget knew the idea disgusted her.

“Let’s just get started on Spanish,” Bridget said.

“I’m serious, Angela.”

She would have to either send her home or tell her about her diapers. They were diapers even though her mother was careful to just call them Depends instead of using the word diaper. “I won’t get you wet,” she said. She pulled down the waistband of her pajamas enough to show the diaper. “My mom bought them for me today for the bedwetting, but after what happened after the movie, I am going to wear them just to be safe.”

“O-M-G, Angela,” said Lia. “How long is your mother making you wear them?”

“I’m going to the doctor’s, probably on Tuesday, to find out what is wrong with me. Until them I am wearing them.”

“Well at least it’s less noticeable than wet pants.”

“I hope so, although I don’t plan on peeing in it.” She paused a few seconds. “On purpose anyway. Now let’s get started on Spanish.”

It was all Bridget could do to get Lia to focus on Spanish. She kept stopping to ask what it felt like to use a diaper, but Bridget didn’t know because she hadn’t worn the diaper long enough to wet it. They went through the conversation until Bridget was sure she could get through it by memory. Every so often, Lia would stop and ask, “Is it wet?” or an equally embarrassing question.

“So the conversation…,” Bridget said when they got through it enough times. “How was it?”

“You did great,” said Lia. “Don’t worry about it. I could have done without you being silly and mispronouncing stuff at the beginning. When you stopped joking around you were good.”

“So Monday then,” said Bridget.

“Yes Monday,” Lia said. “So Angela, are you really going to wear those diapers to class Monday?”

“I don’t see that I have much of a choice. I don’t want to be embarrassed in front of all our friends.” Bridget didn’t want to think about what would happen if the other students discovered that she was diapered. She supposed she would cross that bridge when she came to it. School only had another month anyway. She guessed she could stand the embarrassment for a month. She looked at the clock and yawned. “I didn’t know it was so late.”

“Yeah, it’s one o’clock.” Lia yawned and stretched. “I’m ready to go to bed.”

They settled in bed. Bridget closed her eyes and tried to sleep in spite of Lia’s soft
snoring. It didn’t help that after several hours Lia woke her up.

“Are you wet yet?” she asked.

“No,” Bridget growled and turned her back and curled into her covers. She felt so a peace when she finally got to sleep.

She ran as fast as she could, but they were still behind her. She couldn’t just run away from the engine noises because the men in the Prius chasing her were running off the batteries. She had to constantly look back to make sure they had not veered off to double around and come at her from the front.

She could see the tattooed driver through the Prius’s windows. His cold, gray eyes pierced her as she tried to escape. She ran toward a gas station she saw in the distance. If only she could make it there, she would be safe, or at least she hoped she would find refuge there.

When she arrived at the gas station, she saw no one in sight. The windows were dark and since the only light came from the flickering neon beer lights, she realized it was closed. The pumps were the old style ones with mechanical digits indicating the amount of gas bought and the price. The marquee over the pumps had peeling paint. The only sounds she heard were the metal price advertisements tapping out a warning when the breeze hit them.

She looked behind her, seeing the Prius try to run her down. Inside were the terrorist who stole her rig, the young college girl, and the other man she had seen at the theater. The Prius grew as it sped toward her, becoming her own tank truck. The man inside stared her down. It was less than ten feet away when it burst into flames. She braced for the coming impact, but none came. She woke up sweating and screaming.

“You okay, Angela?” asked Lia.

Bridget rubbed her eyes and tried to get her bearings. Light streamed into the room. She felt her bed near her bottom, but there was no wetness. “Just had a bad dream,” she said. “At least I didn’t wet the bed.”

“Well, that’s good,” said Lia. “Maybe you won’t need the diapers anymore.”

She put her hand inside her pajamas and felt the plastic of the diaper. It actually felt thicker than it had when she put it on. It also felt squishy. She put her hand in the diaper. Her skin was wet and when she took her hand out, it smelled like pee. “I do need them,” she said. “I’m wet, but my bed is dry.”

Lia got out of bed. “I’m going to go take a shower.” She hurried out of the room.

“But I–” Bridget started to say. She got out of bed, took off her pajama bottoms, and looked in the mirror. The blue stripes up and down the front of the diaper were gone. She felt so babyish in the diapers, but at least she didn’t have to strip the bed. “And tomorrow, Angela” she said, “I will plan how to get the people that did this to us.”