“Your teeth are chattering! I’ll make you some hot chocolate!” Cathy cried. When the word “FREAK” appeared scratched in the persimmon colored paint on her locker, she knew that in some fragile young woman’s mind a war had escalated from imaginary to physical. "Go and take your plunge while I attend to breakfast. Her momentary instinct was to run to him and be comforted, like the old times. Quite soon, after we were married—it was just within a year—I formed a friendship with the wife of a friend, a woman eight years older than myself. My foster mother, Sheila, insists that I go to St.
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