The one who called me Sugar used to wait until he was nearly too drunk to stand, then push me against the bathroom sink and have me. His curly hair in...my shoulder, biting my breast. I don’t even remember most of it, just having a throat too sore to protest when my best friend would pull me from the mattress on the floor. She’d help me on with my pants and cardigan, shove me into her car, and never say a word. Her shame was equal to mine, and we kept each other’s secrets. Such friendship is so. Well, Dad was in Allie's body. I'd hate to have suddenly turned into a 12 year old girl, but Dad seemed to be taking it rather well. In fact, he was acting almost as if nothing had changed for him. I guessed it was rather odd at first, then realized that Dad was dealing with this problem, the same way he dealt with most of his problems. By pretending that they weren't there. Lucky him. "I found myself just waking up the street, wet swimsuit in my hands" he muttered when I asked him what. More

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