At the bed I climbed atop my father and rested my legs on either side of his torso. His eyes, open, did not shift to me but rather remained staring at...the ceiling. "Lynn, what are you doing?" he recognized me. I placed one hand on his eyes and gently bade them to close, reassuring with a gentle "shh." "No, its Sherri." I said, moving my father's hand to the dress.Only his hands replied to me in knowledge of the garment. We remained silent as my hands moved and pressed on his chest, my mind. He'd been a jerk, wrapped up in his own world. I could do better; and had.The last bell rang and I picked up my books in English, feeling more nervous than even Saturday when I was walking towards Lyn at the mall. I found her at her locker and she smiled, shyly. Lyn was wearing jeans and a print blouse; no different than half the other girls in school.She grinned. "You keep wearing dresses." She shook her head. "I don't even own one!" I was startled, I thought all girls owned dresses.She saw my. More

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