Red, White, and Blue
Jennifer Palmer
As the steam from the shower dissipates, Heather scowls at her reflection in the mirror.
A mosaic of bruises covers her legs. Some are faded, like the blue-gray remnants from that run-in with her desk last semester. Others are fresh, like the near-violet reminder of the dig gone wrong at the volleyball game from the picnic mere hours ago.
Oh yes, the Independence Day barbecue had been pleasant enough, what with its watermelon and teriyaki chicken wings. When she’d returned home, however, it was with a sardonic grin and soaked jeans.
“Why did you wear pants, dear?” Mrs. Julian, her silver-haired neighbor, had asked next to the food spread. Heather had shrugged and changed the subject, asking Mrs. Julian about her labradoodle instead.
She wraps a to
