It was like asking me if was ready to have someone hit my broken hand with a hammer. You’re never ready for something like that, but I nodded anyway to get us moving.Bethany and Mark were waiting at the edge of the parking lot. I got my book bag and slung it over my shoulder and headed toward them with Joe at my side. He kept his arm around my shoulder the whole way which was about the only thing keeping me moving.“Hey,” Bethany whispered when we caught up to them.“How are you feeling? You eat anything this morning?” I asked. I don’t know why they called it morning sickness because she’d been throwing up all weekend.“Crackers and Ginger Ale. The breakfast of champions.” Her grim smile answered my question better than her words. “I’ll survive. How about you?”I thought I was cried out after a week, but I was wrong. Maybe my body had decided to pee out of my eyes. I wiped my face again and sucked in my cheeks to keep myself under control. “Let’s go.”The people in the hallways who looked. While I was asleep, Nanny stood over my cot, arms folded across her amplebosom. She wore what she typically wore when I visited her, a dark bluenursing sister's uniform dress from the 1970's over her mature figurewith a wide black elastic belt, dark tights and black court shoes. Herdark hair was done up in a bun and her eyes were framed by a large pairof tortoise-shell spectacles. A gold pendant hung from her neck with theletter 'A' on it; her real name I didn't know but was actually Anne, andshe had been a real nursing sister for 20 years at the local healthtrust.Nanny's face was both stern and maternal. Of course, she loved all her'little' charges, but she loved her 'sissy babies' the most. She lovedreally making them feel like the sissy pansies they were, and of course,if she was allowed to, she would go further. Normally that wasn'tpossible. But now wasn't normal.The nursery door creaked open and Aunty Sue popped her head round. "Is itasleep?" she asked, in a low, breathy voice..
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