CHAPTER EIGHT
Linda sat on a cot at the high school gym. The Fighting Tides logo was emblazoned on an entire wall. Each cobalt wave had giant incisors that crested onto a round circle made up of basketballs, soccer balls, tennis balls and footballs. It made her reflect on months of cold morning practice sessions with the marching band. The team spirit, the camaraderie, the discipline had made playing the flute worth every minute. The entire experience more than music, but about life, and getting along with other humans.
“Excuse me, Miss. Is anyone sitting here?” A stranger with wild, graying hair and worn clothes pointed at another cot. Black and white bangs were plastered to her forehead.
Linda shook her head to indicate the woman should sit down. “Please, have a seat.” Disheveled and
