"I...I don't know," I winced.While mom was ushering Grace back to her room, I hurried to my own roomand locked the door behind me. I threw myself onto...my bed and just laythere, refusing to look at my transformed body. I could feel thedifferences. Everything was just...wrong. I wanted to scream but knew thatit wouldn't do any good.While I laid there, I eventually became aware of something else. Ifelt...antsy. I couldn't think of how else to describe it. It was asthough I wanted something...even. ’ ‘Every Monday evening until her father died. Shelia’s dad and my father were in the forces together. John Peters lost his sight in the same mine explosion that crippled my father. Every Monday since I was old enough, I pushed my old man’s wheelchair round to Sheila’s house and the two old soldiers would talk war together, and my old man would read to John Peters. Poor bugger never did get the hang of Braille, nerve damage or something. ‘When my father passed on, I went round there on my own. More

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