I managed to get by my mother right after Ed left—locked myself in my room. She eventually passed out.

I had a lot to think about.

I was still thinking the next morning, as I got ready for school. She was still passed out, thank goodness, so I had some peace and quiet. I got dressed, took my shower, made some eggs. And thought.

Ed was the first person I’d ever let in this apartment. Yeah, he was insistent, with all that chivalry bullshit, but I could’ve put my foot down. I didn’t. I let him in here. And he saw good ol’ Sharon Weinberg at her disgusting best. I must really trust him.

Now there’s a thought to send a shiver down my spine.

I also thought back to what happened while watching the movie. He actually put his arm around me. I think I’ve already established that I don’t like to be touched. I didn’t mind his arm around me at all. I actually felt safe. Feeling safe is not something I’m accustomed to. It was very nice.

And, yeah, OK, he was right. That’s one hell of a movie. I wonder what other good ones he has that I’ve never seen?

All this was swimming through my head as I prepared to walk to school. And, damn, it was raining. Not a lot, but enough to get me wet. I grabbed my umbrella and trudged off to school, an hour early.

Ed was there. He saw me coming, jumped out of his car, and started singing. Well, it was raining, what do you think he was singing? He even danced a little as I walked towards him. He’s no Gene Kelly, but it was funny and sweet all the same.

"You’re a nut, you know that?" I giggled.

"That’s my job," he smirked. "Get in the car, we can talk there, out of the rain." I did, still giggling. I stopped giggling quickly.

"Are you OK? I was worried about you all last night," he said.

"This is strange. I am not used to people worrying about me. But I’m fine. I got away from her right after you left."

"Good."

"Ed, you’ve been so sweet. The past two days, you’ve done so much to try to help me. You’ve offered friendship. You even offered your friends’ friendship. I’m kind of stunned. Nobody’s ever done that for me."

"Natalie, you’re a good person," he said.

"I try to be. I don’t know how good I am. Sometimes I think I’m beyond help. But if you want to know the whole story, I think I need to unburden myself. And somehow, after only two days, I trust you."

"I’m glad," he said. "You tell me whatever you need to get off your chest."

I took a breath. "I’ve told nobody all this. Like I said, somehow I trust you." He nodded. "OK, I need to get this out all at once if I’m going to get it out at all. So don’t interrupt me, please, OK?" He nodded again.

"My mother had me when she was seventeen. Why she didn’t give me up puzzles me to this day. I have no idea who my father is. He took off. Ever since then, my mother’s been trying to replace him."

"She works at Doc’s. You know what that is?" Ed nodded. "It’s a sleazy dive. She picks up men there. She’s still trying to score ‘the’ guy, the one that’ll get her out of the miserable existence she’s confined herself to. If you’re looking for a sugar daddy, Doc’s sure ain’t the place to get it. But maybe she picks up pocket change. I don’t know for sure she’s a whore, but I suspect it."

"You saw last night what she does on her nights off. She drinks herself into a stupor."

"She doesn’t cook, she doesn’t clean. I do all that. I even do the grocery shopping. I have been since I was ten or so. If I didn’t, we wouldn’t have any groceries. At least she gives me money for that. I don’t get much money for much else. I’ve worked every summer. Plus, my grandparents left me a trust fund. Not much, but enough for clothes and stuff. They hated my mother for getting knocked up at seventeen, but, luckily, they didn’t take it out on me. When they were alive, I had a bit of an oasis to go to. They’re gone now. But they did leave me some money. And they made sure I could get into the trust fund at a young age, and made sure my mother couldn’t get at it—their banker is my co-trustee. I use that to buy clothes, toiletries, stuff like that. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have any."

"I think my mother figured out just as I entered puberty that she was getting too old and used up to use her body for a meal ticket out of the slums. So, that’s when she decided I’d be a fine one. I lost my virginity at 15. She arranged it. He was thirty." Poor Ed gasped at that. "I don’t know for sure if he paid my mother for the ‘privilege’, but I have my suspicions. Evidently, I wasn’t good enough, because he never came back. I guess my screaming terror when he took my virginity scared him off. Mom just moved on to number two and number three—both older. Number four, I revolted. He was disgusting. I ran out of the car and ran home. I got a beating for that. Yes, she hits me."

"I strongly suspect she pushed me into The Program so I’d get scooped up by some kid with money. She tells me all the time how much men love my body, and how I have to use it, because that’s all I have."

"All you have?" Ed said. "You’re ranked seventh in the class! Oops, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt."

I smiled at him. "That’s OK. My mother doesn’t look at my report cards. A girl, making it on brains? Completely doesn’t get the concept. All girls have is a body. I told her the other night that she just thinks I’m as dumb as a rock because she is. I got slapped for that, too. Anyway, that’s her thing—your body is all you got, so sell it to the nearest bidder. Lily Woodard would really blow her mind, huh?" Ed managed a grin at that.

"Amanda asked me yesterday why I freeze up when I get touched. This is why. I’ve had it drummed into my head for so long that my body is to be used for men’s pleasure that the programming kicks in, even though I know intellectually that it’s bullshit. This is why I’m scared of my own shadow. This is why I hated parading my body around naked. Ed, I don’t even play with myself. I can’t. I used to, a little, before I lost my virginity. I think I’m frigid. Amanda told me she liked it when guys played with her while she was in the program. I get no pleasure out of it—just pain and disgust. And I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t even know if I can. I might be too brainwashed."

"So, that’s Natalie’s story. The child of a drunk irresponsible whore, who’s been encouraged since puberty to whore herself. I have no friends, I have no life. The only thing that keeps me going is that seventh in the class thing. A college scholarship—that’s my only hope. I think my grades are good enough. Grandpa’s trust fund isn’t enough to pay for college, I need the scholarship. That’s the only way I get out of this."

"Now you know why I love Bogie, and Hepburn, and why some of that trust fund and my summer job money goes to videotapes. Because it’s my escape—my only one. For two hours, I can live in another world—and forget about mine."

"So now you know."

What do you say to that? I mean, what do you say to that? My God.

It wasn’t as bad as the story I heard from Annie Zipelski on that day two years ago, but it was close.

I started with what I had told Annie on that day. "Natalie, I think you need to talk to someone."

"I just did," she managed a smile.

"Yes, but I’m talking about a professional."

"I can’t. I just can’t. For one thing, the poor excuse for health insurance my mother gets at Doc’s wouldn’t cover it. For another thing, I just can’t. For one thing, it’d end up in child protective services."

"Wouldn’t that be a good thing?" I asked.

"No, it wouldn’t. Foster care? At my age? Ed, I have a little over a year and I can get out of here. I can hold on for that long."

"OK," I said, "but if you change your mind, I can arrange it—and I don’t think, in this case, money would be a problem. I told you I love Mike’s mom, Ellie. She’s a child psychologist, specializing in adolescents, and she’s a good one. Written books and everything. And I think she can take you as a client and avoid protective services, for someone of your age—I can check with her, without revealing any details of course. But it might help. You might even just want to talk to her informally. I can arrange that, too. There’s nobody better."

"I’ll think about it," she said. "Now that you know, what do you think?"

"I think you’re incredibly brave," I said.

"Brave? ME? If I was brave, I wouldn’t be living in a shell."

"If you weren’t brave, you wouldn’t be living. Like I said, my best friend’s mother is a psychologist. I know quite a bit. And I know teenagers commit suicide every day with a lot less reason that you have."

"I never thought of it like that," she said. "I suppose you’re right. I guess it’s hard to think of yourself as brave when you dread getting out of bed in the morning."

"I can understand that," I said.

"I’m glad you think I’m brave, though. I thought, after you knew, you might, you know…."

"What?"

"You know…think I’m…."

"What, you thought I’d think less of you?" I asked. She nodded. "That’s nuts. Completely nuts. I like you, Natalie, I think you’re great. What your mother is doesn’t change that."

"Thanks," she whispered. "That means more to me than you’ll ever know."

"Your mother is why you don’t make friends easily, isn’t it?"

"Yeah," she admitted. "Ed, you’re the first person I’ve ever taken to my apartment. Like I said, I must really trust you for some insane reason." She managed a smile at that.

"I’m just Mr. Trustworthy," I joked.

"Yeah. Anyhow, yeah, I didn’t want anyone to know, so I avoided contact. Plus, remember Monday? Remember how I almost took your head off?" I nodded. "There’s a time bomb inside me waiting to explode, I know that. That’s the other reason I find it hard to get close."

"Well, you’ve got friends now. Me, and my cronies. Amanda thinks you’re sweet."

"I know," she smiled. "It’s made more of a difference than I ever imagined."

"I’m glad about that," I said. "Unfortunately, look at the time. We need to go up there and get nekkid."

"Yeah," she laughed. "Oh, well. Two down, three to go."

"Days?"

"Yeah," she grinned.

"Is it any better?" I asked her.

"You know what? Yeah, it is," she admitted. "Not good, mind you, but better."

We headed towards the school. And, as I watched her throughout the day, I realized—it was better. The only thing that wasn’t better was the touching thing—and that worried me. But the rest was definitely better. We all ate lunch with her, and she really was loosening up. Look, sometimes it’s simple. She made some friends. We took her out and she had fun. I took her home to see a great movie, and she had fun. Then I let her unburden herself on me. Sometimes little things make a difference.

I was glad, I really was. I liked this girl. That thought scared the living daylights out of me, but that wasn’t important right now. I could deal with that when the time came.

But, still, there was the touching thing. It was painful to watch, every time. I don’t know how someone can be so out of touch with their body. As I said, Ellie Kirkland is a psychologist, and she’s got some definite ideas about sexuality, including teenage sexuality, all of which I agree with. And "be in touch with your body" is one of her favorite maxims. Another one is that if you’ve had a bad experience, or bad experiences, you need a good one—and as soon as possible. The longer you wait, the more the damage festers. Natalie had some serious damage festering. Ellie says that a good touch can do a whole hell of a lot to mitigate a bad one.

That’s when I got an idea. It was insane. It was ridiculous. It was potentially dangerous, for her and for me. But if I did it right……

I had to try something. I just had to.

So, after school, I approached her.

I wasn’t lying to Ed. It was better. I was actually adjusting to being nude. Unbelievable.

Now, if only I could figure out a way to stop stiffening like a board every time anyone touched me.

I guess that’s too much to ask.

Anyway, school was better than it had been. I liked Ed’s friends, every one of them. They were fun and interesting. Amanda’s one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met, and Lily is almost as funny as Ed. And Ed himself?

OK, I admit it. There were some very definite feelings developing there. I didn’t know quite what they were, but they were there. Look, yeah, I know part of Ed’s personality was that of a caretaker. A rescuer, a healer—hell, he has more of a maternal instinct than my mother. And I also won’t deny that there was a very prominent part of me that just longed to be taken care of.

But that wasn’t all. He made me laugh. We had a boatload in common, imagine that. He was easy to talk to, I found that out that morning. And, I’ll admit it—when he had his arm around me the previous night, I felt a funny little twinge in the pit of my stomach. That was not something I was used to at all!

So, I had all this going through my head when we met up at the entrance after school.

"We have no baseball practice because of the rain. Are you busy right now?" he asked.

"No," I said.

"Will your mother freak if you don’t come home?"

"Yes, but let her," I laughed. "If you keep me out long enough, she’ll be at work before I show up."

"Good enough. Come on, let’s get to my car."

"Aren’t we going to get dressed?" I asked.

"No need for that. Come on!" He was walking to his car. No need to get dressed? What the hell was he up to?

I got in the car—nude, as was he—and looked at him and giggled, "What, do you want to watch Casablanca in the nude or something?"

"Oh, I’ve got better ideas than that," he grinned. I’ll admit it, I winced. "Now, now, none of that. Remember what you said this morning? You trust me."

He was right. I did. So I smiled and said, "OK." We drove and then came to his house. I looked at him.

"Come on in," he said. "Nobody’s home, Mom and Dad don’t get home until after six."

OK, I thought. There’s nobody home, he’s taking me in, and we’re both nude. Scared? I was terrified. I did trust him, but this was scary—moreso when he took me to his bedroom.

"You look like you’ve seen a ghost," he said when we got there.

"Ed," I gulped, "I’m not sure about this. I mean, did you want to…..I can’t, I mean….."

"This is not what you’re thinking. I’m not planning on doing anything to abuse your trust. OK?"

"OK," I said tentatively.

"Lie down on the bed. On your side, facing away from me." I just looked at him. "I just love how trusting you are," he joked.

I laughed, but then said, "You’re asking a lot from me."

"I know. But it will be all worth it. I promise."

"OK," I said, and did as he ask. Then I felt him curl up behind me. He wrapped his arms around my waist. We were in his bed, both nude, and spooning! How on earth did I let this happen? I wanted to jump up and run out the door. Except, for that little part of my brain that registered his arms cuddling me into him. That part of the brain kept saying, "This is nice, isn’t it?"

Then he started talking. "You know, I hope, what a penis is." I just laughed. "Mine’s behind you. It’s hard. No big surprise, considering I’m holding a naked gorgeous girl in my arms." I giggled again, but was also scared—until he kept talking. "The only reason I told you that is if you feel something bumping up your butt inadvertently, you’ll know what it is. Other than that, Ed’s penis is no longer a topic for discussion. It’s not a topic for anything. It doesn’t exist. If I wanted anything from you, I’d make you go for the dick. Grab it, lick it, suck it, fuck it, whatever. Not only am I not going to ask you to do any of the above, I expressly forbid it. Ed’s penis isn’t here. Ignore it. This is for you. The only reason I’m still naked is to make you feel more comfortable. I’m not naked because I want something from you, and I don’t care how hard my dick gets. And I don’t want you to, either."

I still didn’t know what he was up to, but I was listening with rapt attention. "Now, remember two things. One is that you need this. You don’t know it yet, but you do. The other thing to remember is that you trust me. OK?"

"OK," I whispered.

"Good. Now, you’re tense as all get-out. I need you to relax. Deep breaths. Big, deep, cleansing breaths. With every breath, you should feel your muscles get less tight. Go on, deep breaths."

I did. He kept coaxing me, "breathe," as I did. And, amazingly, it started working. "Breathe, Natalie. Relax," he kept whispering in my ear in a low voice as I did, and I felt the tension draining from me. Unbelievable. He was actually making me relax. My back hadn’t felt this wonderful in years.

Then I felt his hand creep up and touch my breast. I immediately stiffened. What was he doing?

"None of that," he whispered. "Don’t tense up. Relax. Breathe, in and out. You can do this."

Relax? With his hand on my boob? Oh, God, I couldn’t…but he made me, just by being gentle and talking all the time. "Natalie. This is for you. This feels good. This is supposed to feel good. Relax. Breathe. Let it happen. Trust me. Let it happen. Relax."

Oh, God, it was working. I kept breathing, and I felt the tension leave again. And I felt this wonderful warmth coming from where his hand was. Oh God, oh God, it felt good. And he kept whispering to me. Encouraging words, sweet words. "It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful," he said. "Does this feel good?"

"Yes," I admitted.

"Good," he said. "Breathe. Relax. Let it feel good." I did. We lie there for a few minutes as he fondled my boob. It felt wonderful. I still couldn’t believe it.

Then I felt his other hand. It was headed lower. Oh God, he was going to….I couldn’t let him do that? I hated that!

He was moving his hand slow enough for me to stop him—but he kept saying, "Breathe. Relax. Let it happen." So, I let it happen. I don’t know how, I don’t know why. But, before I knew it, his hand was on my pussy. He was gently tracing his finger up and down my pussy.

And, oh God, I liked it!

"Relax," he kept saying. "This feels good. This feels the best of all. Let it happen."

His finger lightly traced up and down my pussy. I kept breathing deeply. I didn’t have a choice at that point. I was headed straight to panting.

Then I felt his finger slip inside. I tensed, for just a minute. Then, amazingly, I didn’t.

"Relax, Natalie," he whispered. "This feels good. Don’t fight it."

"Oh God I’m not," I blurted out.

"Good," he chuckled. And then his finger was all the way in.

He slipped it in and out. And I liked it! I don’t know what happened—if it was because I had been so relaxed, or if it was Ed, or if it was that I trusted Ed, or what. But this—what I had been avoiding and dreading and running away from for three days—I let it happen. And it felt good.

Part of my brain was just…. stunned. The other part of my brain, however, recognized a growing fire in the pit of my belly. Hey, I’m not stupid. I knew what was happening—intellectually. Not all my reading was for class. So I knew what was going on. It’s just that I had never felt it.

And then, the hand under me, the one that had been on my boob the whole time, slipped down—and went right for my clit.

That’s when I lost it. Looking back—considering that, not too many hours ago, I had been wondering if I was frigid—I still can’t believe what happened. I just went nuts. His hand on my clit made me gasp, and the fire in my belly built and built. And I found myself grabbing his other hand—the one with the finger up in me—and I humped myself on it. I had tilted a bit—I wasn’t quite on my side, I was half on my back, my leg draped over Ed’s—and I grabbed his hand and slammed my pussy on it, while his other hand rubbed furiously on my clit.

"Oh, God, ED?" I screamed—and went.

Like I said, I knew what an orgasm was. Intellectually, that is. I had read all the descriptions—your muscles clench, you spasm, yadda yadda yadda. I’d never read that your brain fries. My brain fried. It melted into a complete pile of spasming goo. I’d never read that your tummy feels like a star going supernova. Mine did. I’d never read that your pussy feels like the center of the universe. Mine did.

As I came down, desperately trying to catch my breath, I felt Ed’s hands leave my pussy, and go back around my waist, as he cuddled me back to something approaching coherence.

Wow. Wow, wow, wow!

I did it. Hallelujah. I fucking did it! It worked!

I’d given girls orgasms before. None ever seemed so important. Well, the three I gave Annie the one time we were together were just as important—but I didn’t know that at the time. That was just in retrospect.

Damn, I wish I could get Annie out of my head!

But I couldn’t. And here was Natalie, snuggling into me and humming. Uh-oh. I knew this would mean a lot to her—what I didn’t count on was that it would mean so much to me.

"Ed?" she asked.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks," she said quietly. "I can’t thank you enough. That was above and beyond the call of a program partner."

"All part of the service, ma’am," I joked. "How do you feel?"

"Reborn," she said simply. "That was my first, you know."

"I figured," I said. "I remember my first. Well, my first administered by someone other than myself, mind you." She chuckled at that one. "Believe me, they’re not the same. Masturbating is fine—having someone else masturbate you is a whole different experience. I was in eighth grade—and I got taken behind the school building and jacked off. It was incredible."

"Who was it?" she asked.

"Who do you think?" I smirked.

"Maggie Benson?" she asked.

"Got it in one. Half the male members of the junior class had their first experience with Maggie Benson, sometime between seventh and ninth grade." She chuckled at that. "Though she didn’t take my virginity."

"Who did?"

"Marcia Ryerson. Which turned out to be a disaster. Unbeknownst to both of us, she was fucking Mike at the same time."

"Oh, Jesus," she said.

"Exactly. I should’ve just waited for Maggie to come along for that one, too. At least with Maggie, it’s just sex."

"I thought you and Maggie were friends," she said.

"We are. But that’s still different. I like sex with friends. It’s less messy, it’s always satisfying, and, at the end, we’re still friends. I’ve fucked Amanda—and that’s since she started going out with Jared. There’s no messy emotionalism. It’s just sex between two people who like each other."

"Is that what this was?" she asked tentatively.

"Not quite," I admitted. "To be honest, I didn’t know if this would work. That makes it quite a bit different right there. Plus, it was one-sided." I was still hard as a rock.

"Ed, I could…" she started.

"No, you couldn’t. We discussed this. This was for you. I always have my right hand. Or Maggie Benson." She laughed. "No obligations, no reciprocation. You needed this. I’ll live."

"What did you mean that you didn’t know if it would work?"

"I didn’t know if you’d respond," I said. "I didn’t know if you’d freeze up. I didn’t know if you’d turn on me for trying it. I didn’t know a lot of things. It was a chance."

"If I didn’t trust you, it never would have," she told me. "And, I must admit, you’re very good with that breathe deep and relax stuff. You had me so relaxed that I felt all the tension drain from my back."

"Good. How do you feel now?"

" Very relaxed. Also starving," she giggled.

"A bunch of the guys are headed to The Mariner."

"That sounds heavenly," she smiled up at me. So we went.

In the car, fully dressed, my mind went into overdrive. I don’t want to say I panicked, but what I had just done began to dawn on me. And Natalie was looking at me in undisguised adoration. Uh-oh.

What did I feel? I don’t know. What I do know was that, whatever it was, it was dangerous. Natalie was right—that wasn’t just a quick wank between friends. Like I said, it was more important than that. To me. Which was the last thing I needed.

When we got to the restaurant, Natalie huddled with the girls—Amanda, Lily, Emma, Maggie—at one end. While Jared, Ty, and Frankie discussed baseball, I saw an opportunity to huddle with Mike. I needed advice.

"Buddy, I’ve got a problem," I told him.

"Shoot."

"First, I found out about Natalie today." I told him about what she had told me that morning. I don’t talk out of school, but there’s nobody more trustworthy than Mike Kirkland. Not with what his mother does for a living.

"Damn, that’s no good. You should get her to talk to Mom," Mike said.

"I’m working on it. However, I tried to help her myself this afternoon." And I told him what I had done.

"Hot damn, Ed!" he said. "It worked that well?"

"Mike, she went to pieces. Completely went to pieces. Frankly, it was beautiful to watch."

"That’s great," he said. "You took a helluva chance, pal, but you know what? I think Mom would approve." Then he grinned. "Now I know why she’s been giving you those looks since we’ve been here."

"Yeah," I said, "and that’s the problem. I knew she needed this—what I didn’t know is what it would do to me."

"This wasn’t just an act of friendship," he said astutely.

"No, it was not. Not after I was done. And it has to be. I can’t go down that road again."

"Ed, she’s not Annie," Mike said quietly.

"Yes she is, dammit! Another wounded butterfly! And I’m getting my ass in deep again. When will I learn?"

"Ed. You like her. Admit it," he pressed.

"Yes, I like her. And I need to stop liking her."

"Why on earth?"

"Because down that road lies Annie!" I said exasperatedly. "If I get myself emotionally involved with Natalie, I’m going down the Annie road again. I can’t do that."

"You already are emotionally involved," he pointed out. "And so, my friend, is she."

"I know she is," I said. "But I can’t be."

"Look, Ed," he said. "You weren’t in love with Marcia Ryerson, I know that. I was. I mean, I had my heart stomped on just as you did. I don’t want to compare levels of pain, but it wasn’t fun."

"Yeah, I knew all that," I told him.

"And I still took a chance on Lily."

I laughed. "Mike, I knew the minute I met Lily that she was your dream girl. Come on. Marcia Ryerson must’ve completely drained from your memory the minute you met her. Lily’s what you’ve wanted all along."

"Ed, that’s what I’m trying to tell you," he said. "I agree with everything you say, but I know you as well as you know me. Natalie is your dream girl."

"If that’s true, why can’t I get Annie out of my head?"

"There’s a couple reasons," he said. "One is that you really didn’t have closure with Annie—as my mother would say." I chuckled at that. Ellie talked about "closure" all the time. "And that’s made worse," Mike continued, "by the fact that Annie was one of your best friends long before you guys hooked up. You didn’t just lose a girlfriend, you lost a very close friend. Think about what you’d feel if Amanda walked out of your life, or me. It might not be the same, but it’d be almost as painful."

"That makes some sense," I said.

"There’s another reason," he said. "But you’ll have to figure that one out for yourself."

"C’mon, Mike, you’re the psychologist’s son, help me out!"

"I’m also your best friend, and I prefer not to hurt you."

"The other reason would hurt me?" Mike nodded. "OK, so you told me that. Lay it on me. I need to hear it right now."

Mike took a deep breath and said, "You brandish Annie like a shield. She’s like your own personal little war wound. I hate to say that, but it’s true. Look, I know that what you went through with her was incredibly traumatic. But it was two years ago. You can’t let go because you wallow in it. If that weren’t the case, you’d have answered one of her letters. Shit, you would’ve opened one of them." I looked at him in shock. "If you answered her letters," he continued, "you might get closure. But part of you doesn’t want that." I just looked at him. "I’m sorry," he finished.

"Don’t be," I said. "I don’t know. If what you say is true, I’m not doing in consciously. I’m just not ready."

"I understand that," he said. "But if you don’t get yourself ready, you might be losing the second chance of a lifetime." He looked at Natalie.

"I can’t. I just can’t," I said pitifully.

"Suit yourself. Don’t say I didn’t warn you."

Just then, Natalie came up to me from the other end of the table. "It’s getting late. Can you get me home?"

"Sure." She seemed tense all of a sudden. "Are you OK?"

"Fine," she said with a smile that seemed forced. "Just tired. It’s been a long day."

"That it has," I agreed. "We can go." We said goodbye to the gang and took off.

We were silent on the way to her apartment.

"Ed," she said as we pulled up in front, "you get to school early, right?"

"Yeah. 30 to 45 minutes, usually."

"Good," she said. She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. "Bye. And thanks." And then, before I could say a word, she was gone.

She had a lot on her mind, it seemed—and I got the impression that she was going to show up early to school the next day to talk about it.

I had a feeling I knew what was on her mind. And it terrified me.

I had to get myself out of this, and right away. Before it got worse.

--End of part three—