To my relief, she didn't resist, but leaned into me. She put her head in her hands and rubbed at her face."I'm sorry," she said, through her fingers. ...I didn't mean to fall asleep." It's ok," I said, not sure if it was. "I think you were having a nightmare."She nodded, and lifted her head, but didn't meet my eyes. "Did my hands burn you?"I blinked. "I don't think so. But they were hot." I wished she would look at me. "Why were they so hot? Why did they set the bed on fire?"She stared at the far. We lived on an acreage on the edge of town a little over a mile from the school. My older sisters had preceded me in school and had done well, so I always got the benefit of the doubt with my teachers many of whom had taught them as well.Some of the teachers were new. One, Mrs. Jones, was an attractive woman in her late twenties or early thirties who gave us a class in library or reading twice a week. We marched to our classes to keep order in the hallways and I will forever remember marching. More

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