"I appreciate the effort you have put in to your improv skills, butmaybe from now on, pay attention so you can give me the correctionanswer when I ask...you, ok?" Yes, sir..." I sheepishly mumbled.He turned back to the board and I buried my head in my hands, mortifiedat the show that had been made of me.Whispers kept going behind my back. I was pretty sure I could make outa few words; 'loser', 'dumbass', 'slut'. Was this to be my life for thenext two years? I didn't know if I could hack this.. Angry eyes, perturbed expression. Sweatshirt hiding budding breasts. Shorts revealing long legs starting to ripen. Brown hair, slightly curled, to her shoulders. ‘I hate boys.’ ‘Why?’ Hands on hips, eyes flashing. ‘They all want to play with me. Do I look like a toy to you? Well, Bill, do I?’ How do you talk about love, about sex, to a beautiful young woman starting to blossom? How do you talk about those things you desperately want to share with her? Carla at sixteen closed the door. More

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