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semi-truck slammed into the driver’s side so hard that the family car became wedged halfway up into the engine block of the truck’s diesel engine. Her husband was crushed to death instantly. She would have been killed too, except that she had gotten into the back seat with Hector to sing him to sleep. Hector’s restless crying had been like a bad omen, but it’s also what saved them both. Being in the back seat was what prevented them from getting killed. It was the worst experience of her life.
    “Anyway,” Jennifer said , rummaging through her purse and fishing out a stick of gum which she promptly peeled the foil off and popped into her mouth. “It’s getting late and I don’t want to keep you from your son. We can finish this up some other time.”
    Jennifer closed her purse and stood up. Rachael stood up at the same time and reached over to shake Jennifer Hurley’s hand. Jennifer added a socially polite smile, even though it seemed rather terse. The ultra-bright whites of her bleached smile only added to the synthetic image. She was like a real life version of one of those photo shopped models on the cover of a fashion magazine. Completely airbrushed to the point of looking surreal, but somehow impossible not to fixate on in spite of the fact that you knew it was all just smoke and mirrors.
    Rachael felt obliged to match the blinding, slightly manic, Cheshire grin with a slightly softer one of her own. As her client left Rachael jotted down on a yellow post-it note: Remember to charge Mrs. H for all the extra smiles.
    With that out of the way, she put some case files into her briefcase and closed the lid of her laptop. Retrieving her jacket from off the hook next to the door, she headed out of office and rushed to go pick Hector up from school.
     

     
    Hector sat on the padded bench in the nurse’s office. It smelled like a clinic. As if everything, from the floors to the walls, had been sterilized but the stench of sickness still lingered in the air. It even had a white vinyl curtain that divided two small cots.
    Mrs. Jensen was standing nearby talking to the school nurse, Ms. Carlyle. Ms. Carlyle was a short, stout, and sturdily built woman with black curly hair that always seemed to look wet. Her dark eyebrows gave her a stern look, as if she was perpetually angry about something, but Hector knew that she was secretly funny. She could make all the kids laugh, no matter what.
    “So what bit you?” Ms. Carlyle asked. Before he could speak, she added, “I bet a little monkey bit you.”
    “No, Mike Laurie did,” Hector answered.
    Ms. Carlyle raised an eyebrow and shot Hector a slightly devious look.
    “As I suspected,” she said in a firm tone of voice, “a monkey did bite you.”
    Hector smiled. Mrs. Jensen just rolled her eyes and tried desperately not to grin. Teachers weren’t supposed to have favorites, but secretly they did.
    Ms. Carlyle placed the thermometer under Hector’s arm. It felt cold in his armpit.
    “Don’t worry,” Ms. Carlyle said. “Your mom will be here soon to pick you up.”
    Mrs. Jensen smiled warmly and winked at Hector.
     

     
    Rachael Ramirez pulled up to her son’s school in her glistening silver Audi Q7. She had always told herself she wouldn’t be one of those lawyers who went out and bought a gas guzzling SUV, but after just one test drive she fell in love. It had leather heated seats. Most of all, its sturdy frame and size made her feel safe. That was the real reason she bought a big ole SUV. It wasn’t to look prestigious. It was because she was desperately terrified of being on the losing end of another car wreck.
    Rachael brushed her silky-smooth black hair out of her face and put the car in park. Looking out her window she saw Hector waiting for her on the steps of the school with Mrs. Jensen. Rachael waved, and then leaned over and opened the passenger door for Hector to climb in.
    Mrs. Jensen brought Hector over and held the door as he climbed in