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Two PM. Thank god. Another long day was almost over. Abbie Deal reached below her desk top to tug uncomfortably at her nylons, which had somehow managed to twist about and bind against the smooth skin of her long legs. She sighed. Little things like that were always happening, it seemed. Sitting back up, she leaned back in her chair, smoothed the papers on her blotter into a manageable pile, and tucked a stray wisp of auburn hair behind her ear. Only one more period to go, then school would be out and she would have the long weekend to unwind and depressurize after this week of hell. And hell is truly what it had been. First Monday, with the flat tire on the expressway. Then the school board's new budget plan and the subsequent demise of that raise those bastards had promised. Then there was the stupid mess with the cable company-while they seemed to have no shortage of assholes to come drive over her lawn on a Saturday morning, apparently no one there could actually add, thus the gross over-billing. And finally, the long, arduous torture of her mother's phone call this morning-a full two hours starting at five AM, no less. All to keep her updated on what Grant, her very recent ex-boyfriend, was doing these days. Her mother was such a meddling busybody. She sighed again, exhausted, and made a concerted effort to just sink into her chair and disappear. Maybe eighth hour would just teach itself. At twenty-four, she had never felt so old in her life.

"Hi, Miss Deal!"

...

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