The door opened and his eyes zeroed in on me. “Hiya, sis. Heard you had fun with Pomelo King. Was she good? Ya know, she did the team a week ago...�...� “Was Ina good?” I asked flatly. He smiled. “Yeah, she was.” He never saw my fist coming. He was way taller than me, but I got his jaw pretty hard. He stumbled back, a flare of rage and amusement flickering in his eyes before a calm, calculated look settled on his face again. “Fuck you, you self-righteous bitch,” he said coolly, his hand massaging. The teacher came over and asked me to walk with him. As we were walking across the field he asked if I wore girls things often. I confessed and told him all the time and I like to play with dolls. He said that it was alright and nothing to be ashamed about and I should be who I feel like being. I was so happy that another person approved. When school got out (I always walked home as did most of the others). A car pulled up alongside of me. It was my teacher. He asked if I wanted a ride home. More

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