As I woke up the next morning I didn’t know where to turn. I had serious misgivings about my choices so far. I was getting involved, and with that come a price, vulnerability. And that was a price I wasn’t sure I could afford. I also had made a new powerful enemy, knowing all too much about my shady past. Yes, I’m referring to Ivan that wanted to buy Alana.

As I drive home, I keep an eye on the rear view mirror in case I’m being followed.  I even take a few odd turns aimlessly down residential roads but don’t see anyone following me. I’m sure that the Major is being cautious, but I’m starting to think we need to keep from getting paranoid. After all, who would be worried by a simple teen girl working as an intern?

Chapter 32: Hormones

previously:

“To keep everyone interested and awake, I’ll offer them two short breaks of ten minutes during the lecture period. During normal days, the labs will be about three hours each following the intro hour in the lecture hall.” I was designing my class on the fly now.

“Remember, the first lab period is really two separate labs with half the students in each, as is the second lab period. Can the school arrange this for me?”

The Boy writes another Letter to Santa

previous:

This time, there’s a serving of cake for dessert on the tray with another note tucked under the plate: ‘Try this one. It should tickle your palate.’ That’s a puzzling comment. I have slices of lean roast beef with gravy, peas, a small amount of mashed potatoes, two pats of butter, one slice of bread, a fruit salad, and a cup of coffee. Plus the cake. The whole supper smells good and tastes divine. I am savoring my meal as the nurse comes in to check on me. I tell her, “I’m enjoying my feast.”

"I've been such an ass!" Mickey exclaimed.

After a moment, Mom told him, "If it's any consolation, you come from a family of asses."

by Barbara Lynn Terry

Thomas gets a little more or is it a little less than he wanted for Christmas.

by Paula Dillon

Wuthering Dormice (aka Bike) Part 848 by Angharad

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Carmine climbed out of his 4Runner and exhaled slowly. Another Christmas Eve without Tony and Margo. He looked around at the garage. Camping equipment had been shoved rudely into a cubby underneath the steps leading to the kitchen, gathering dust. He remembered that last trip to the lake before Margo got sick...

A boy sends a desperate plea to Santa this Christmas

previous:

“I didn’t pick the fight, he did.”

“But you had to finish it didn’t you? When will you learn it isn’t ladylike to beat up on men?”

“Not even if they deserve it, Uncle Phillip?”

“Well, at least leave enough that I get to put in my two cents worth. Okay?”