She stopped several feet away and openly examined me with contempt.
“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” she yelled.
Parents nearby turned to look.
The children stopped splashing.
I felt Daisy slide her hand into mine.
Miranda pointed at my swimsuit with obvious hostility.
“You teach children. And this is how my son sees his teacher? You have no business walking around in a swimsuit where your students can see you. It is shameless.”
I was wearing a simple yellow one-piece with a high neckline and a skirted bottom. Women around us wore bikinis, and men walked around shirtless, yet somehow I was the problem.
Daisy squeezed my hand more tightly.
Then she began to cry.
“I am sorry,” she whispered. “This is my fault.”
My stomach dropped.
“No, baby, no.”
Miranda continued.
“You should be reported. I’m calling the school Monday morning. Teachers should not be allowed to parade around like this in front of students.”
