Copyright 2005 Frank Downey. All rights reserved. Any use other than personal archiving requires the permission of the author. Do not repost.

This story contains adult material. If this is illegal where you reside or if you are underage where you reside, begone.


HEROES

by Frank Downey

Craig called on Saturday. We were on the phone for a couple hours. It was great.

He gave me a big smile when I saw him in school on Monday.

Monday, at lunch, I got a nice surprise. I had just started digging into the meal, when there appeared Angela. "Hi," she said.

"Hi," I responded tentatively.

"I owe you an apology," she said. "You were right."

"Thank goodness, I thought you would hate me forever."

"I was really mad at first," she said. "But my parents were a lot more understanding than I would’ve guessed. Very worried, but understanding. And Shannon really is great."

"That she is," I agreed.

We chatted a bit, and then we were invaded. Craig, Alex, Johanna, and Cap all came over to the table. I introduced them all to Angela. I thought she was going to freeze up, but she didn’t. Well, mostly she didn’t. She was all right. Craig helped--as did Johanna, who was sitting next to her and deliberately including her in the conversation. Including Angela Cressey in a conversation is no small feat, let me tell you, but Johanna was dogged. I threw her a smile of gratitude. Which she caught.

This kind of set the pattern for the week. We all ended up at lunch together. On Tuesday, a couple of Johanna’s friends started joining us. Two of the types that I would’ve considered Princesses--these must’ve been the ones that didn’t diss her when she started dating Alex--but they were actually very nice. Even to Angela.

Then came Thursday.

We were all at lunch. Angela, after watching us moon over each other for almost a week, finally got the gumption to ask Craig and I, "Are you guys dating?"

"Couldn’t you tell?" Craig laughed.

"We just started, actually," I said. "This past weekend was our first date."

"And it feels like it was our millionth," Craig said, "and I mean that in a good way."

Oh, he was getting me all warm-and-fuzzy.

And then I blew it. "Yeah, for some reason Craig must have a thing for overbrained fat chicks." I said it as a joke.

Craig knew better. He knew that underneath the joke was, pretty much, how I felt. And he got mad. He turned to me with a look on his face I’d never seen before. "Oh, stop it," he said, loud enough to interrupt conversation at the whole table.

He grabbed my face and turned it towards his. "You listen to me," he said, luckily a bit softer--I think only Angela heard. "There’s no such thing as overbrained. You’re smart. That’s a good thing. You should be happy about it. Stop apologizing for it."

I was stunned. And he wasn’t done. "Furthermore, you are not fat." He put his hand on my stomach. "There’s nothing wrong here. No, it’s not sixpack abs, but who cares? It’s not fat. It’s just soft, and curvy. Girls are supposed to be soft and curvy." He then very obviously looked at my boobs. "Like those. Just perfect."

"Well," I said, trying to--I don’t know what I was trying. To save face or something? Anyhow, I said, "It’s mostly my hips. And my ass." I turned to poor Angela who was trying not to get involved. "My ass is so huge it stops weather systems."

Craig grabbed my face and turned it towards him again, and leaned in close. "You silly little fool," he hissed, low and soft, "how can somebody as smart as you be so damn stupid? Listen to me, Ginny Klusse, the only thing your ass stops is traffic!" And on that flabbergasting note, he very deliberately turned away, and very very deliberately started talking to Alex.

Poor Angela. She was staring at me after all this, desperately trying to think of something to say. And we all know that thinking of things to say isn’t Angela’s strong suit. I took her off the hook and changed the subject.

Craig studiously avoided me for the last fifteen minutes of lunch. But he wasn’t done. As we were leaving the lunchroom, he grabbed my shoulder and pulled me over into a quiet part of the corridor.

"Ginny, this is the thing. I like you. I like you a whole hell of a lot. And I like you just the way you are. So when are you gonna start?" And then he walked away.

It’s a good thing I can navigate my classes on autopilot--because, for the rest of the afternoon, I had no choice.

I had group after school. I kind of wished I’d had my private with Shannon, but today was group. I did tell everyone I’d gone on my first date--and gotten my first kiss--which they all were happy about. I didn’t tell anyone what had happened today, though.

After supper, I was in my room, and the phone rang. It was Craig. "Look, Ginny, I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. I was way, way too hard on you."

"I don’t know if that’s true," I said.

"It is. I was," he insisted. I heard him sigh from the other end of the line. "I’m sorry. This is harder than I thought it was going to be."

"What is?"

"Look, I knew I liked you. I liked you last year, I told you that. I wouldn’t have asked you out if I didn’t like you. I guess it kind of hit me suddenly on Friday night exactly how much."

"Oh," I said, thrilled, and scared out of my mind, all at the same time.

"That wasn’t my first kiss. I haven’t done much more than that, mind you, but I have kissed, and I’ve made out with girls. A number of times." He took another breath. "But never, ever like that."

"Oh, God, I thought it was just me," I said with a nervous little chortle.

"Not hardly," he said, and I could almost hear the smile over the phone. "Not even a little bit. It took my breath away."

"Mine, too, but my mother said that’s because I need to learn how to breathe through my nose."

He lost it. "You’re something else," he said when he stopped laughing. "By the way, I can breathe through my nose just fine and I still almost passed out on your porch."

"Oh," I laughed.

"Anyhow, it’s quick. Quicker than I thought. I really do like you a lot."

"I feel the same way," I said softly.

"Good." His voice got a little strained. "But it’s hard. And sometimes you don’t make it easier. When you were running yourself down at lunch, it kind of hit me. I’m rapidly becoming crazy about a girl who, not so long ago, tried to kill herself. If I told you that that didn’t scare the living shit out of me, I’d be lying."

"Oh. Damn, Craig, I don’t know what to say."

"I want you to promise me something."

Oh, God, I thought, don’t. I can’t promise that. I can’t. Not yet. "What?" I asked him hesitantly.

"I want you to promise me that, if you feel that way again, you’ll call me. Just call. Give me a chance to talk to you about it. Please, just promise me you’ll do that."

My heart went right into my throat. "Yes. I can do that. I promise to do that."

"Good," he said with a huge sigh of relief. No bigger than mine! He asked me something I was capable of--that came as a great relief. "And Ginny? Stop running yourself down."

"That’s going to be harder. Uhm, do you really think my ass could stop traffic?"

He laughed. "Ginny, I like to think I’m a gentleman. I try to be, anyhow. If I weren’t I think I would’ve left handprints."

"Oh, God," I croaked through the giggles. "That sounds, er, intriguing."

"Uh-huh."

I vowed to try. If this guy liked me, there was a reason, right? Maybe I’d figure it out.

We went out that weekend--in fact, we went out twice, both nights. Friday we went to the movies. Saturday we went out dancing, to a teen dance club nearby. I am an absolutely horrible dancer, but I went. It was even fun.

"I know you don’t like me running myself down," I said to Craig during a break, "but let’s face it--I suck at this."

"But you’re having fun. That’s what counts."

"It is fun. As long as I don’t think about what I look like!"

He didn’t say anything until we got back on the dance floor. When there, he steered me to a mirror on the wall. "Look. What do you see in there?" he said.

I looked. I actually looked half-decent tonight. Mom had helped me with the makeup and it looked good. My hair--which was reddish-brown and straight--was in a ponytail. First time for that in years. I’d been in the habit of hacking it off to get it out of my damn face, but I hadn’t cut it since before the hospital. I had to admit, it looked better longer. I was wearing a nice blouse, and a knee-length skirt that at least made my ass look like it was in a single zip code instead of three.

"What do you see in there?" Craig repeated. "I’ll tell you what I see. I see a pretty girl having a good time. For one thing, she’s a lot prettier than she thinks she is--and she’s having fun, which makes her absolutely beautiful. So what if she’s not going to be winning any dance contests any time soon. She can keep up with the beat, she’s not embarrassing herself, and she’s having fun. In fact, to me, she looks happy." He spun me away from the mirror to look at him. "Ginny," he smiled, "happy is good. Go with it."

"OK," I smiled back--and we started dancing again.

God, he was right. I was happy.

How the hell did that happen?

I got even happier when we got to my house. We went out back of my house, where there was one of those big porch swings--though we had it on the lawn and not on a porch. We sat there for a while, making out.

After a while, he said, "I need to ask you something and I’m not asking it to piss you off. I’m asking because I need to know, OK?"

"OK," I said, curious.

"Do you like me because you like me or because I was the first one to ask you out?"

I grinned at him. "What are you grinning at?" he asked, obviously a bit confused at my reaction.

"Nice to know I’m not the only insecure person in this swing."

"No, you’re not," he laughed.

"Good. As for your question--I’ll be honest. I’ve thought about it. I’m pretty vulnerable to any kind of sweet-talking and I know it."

"Did I sweet-talk?" he chuckled.

"More like actions than talk in your case. Anyway. I thought about it. And I guess I realized something. I never would’ve been able to admit it, not even to myself, because I buried that kind of shit back then--but I liked you last year, too."

"You did?"

"Yeah."

"Oh," he said, looking insufferably pleased. I couldn’t complain--I was, too. "You mean before I dissed you with my birthday party."

"Yeah, before that," I laughed.

"Don’t worry, you’re invited this year. It’s in February."

"I’ll mark my calendar," I deadpanned. "Oh, and I hope you like older women. Mine’s New Year’s Eve."

"I think I can live with that," he laughed. "Anyhow, you’re sure?"

"I’m sure," I said. I looked at him. "You really are insecure. You spend so much time pumping me up I didn’t realise."

"Part of it is because this is really quick." I nodded agreement--it was, but it felt right. "The other thing is, well, I know I’m nowhere in your league." I looked at him blankly. "I mean, I’m not a dummy, but you...."

I interrupted him by pointing at my scarred wrist. "I should be living vivid proof that brains are not all they’re cracked up to be."

"I understand that part, but that’s not what I meant."

"OK, let me explain to you what a high IQ is. Did you ever hear the polite euphemism for kids that are lower-than-average?" He looked at me blankly. "It’s slow. I mean, you’ve heard that. ‘So-and-so is a little slow,’ right?"

"Yeah," he said.

"It’s accurate. And I say that because I am fast. Look, I understand different people have different talents, but I’m going to speak in generalities here. There is not a thing that I am capable of learning that you are not. Anything I can learn, you can too. Almost everyone can, speaking again in generalities.

"What the difference is, is this. If it takes you an hour to learn something, I can do it in twelve minutes. I won’t learn it any better than you. Just faster."

"I see," he said. "Of course, where the difficulties come in is that while I’m taking the extra forty-eight minutes to learn Task One, you’ve moved on to Two, Three, and Four. And I’ll never be able to catch up."

"Oh, I’m not nearly that diligent," I laughed. "While you’re taking the extra time, I’m not learning Two and so on, I’m wasting time playing The Sims." He chuckled at that. "There are things I’m interested in. And there’s things I’m not. That is a little easier, because I can get history studying over with quickly. And since I hate history, the less time spent, the better. That’s an advantage. Things I like, especially if they’re not the same as the things you like, I’ll stay ahead of you. But if you like history, you’ll pass me in no time."

"Not particularly," he grimaced. "What do you like?"

"Two things, and I’m eventually going to have to pick one. High-level math and physics and that sort of thing. That’s like breathing to me. Pre-calculus is like second nature. The other one is languages."

"You mean like spoken languages?"

"Yeah. I’m reasonably fluent in five."

"FIVE?!?!?!?"

"Yeah," I laughed, "but that counts English. The others are German, Russian, Spanish, and Japanese. I’m probably best at Spanish, I started learning that when I was like three. German is the least fluent, because that’s the one I’m taking in school."

"School really slows you down, doesn’t it."

"Yeah, and that’s what makes me stick out like a sore thumb more than anything."

"I can see that." He thought for a minute. "Five freakin’ languages. Jesus."

"That kind of stuff I’m incredibly fast at."

"Is that what you want to do?"

"I was leaning more towards the other thing. I think I want to do something with science. Engineering or something. Or maybe even theoretical physics or the like."

"Yeah," he said. "And in this whole global economy, speaking all those languages can only help you. Even if you go into research in something like theoretical physics, you’d be communicating around the world."

"Exactly. I’m going to do Chinese in college because that’s going to be an important language. Anyhow, what do you want to do?"

He smiled at me. "Well, we sort of share an affinity for math, but not the same type of math. For me, it’s figures. I’m taking accounting this year and I love it and I’m good at it."

"So, you’re thinking along those lines?"

"Yeah."

"That’s cool."

"Look, I know this is quick," he said.

"We already decided that," I laughed.

"Yes, but I’m about to get quicker. I was wondering if, you know, you’d like to make this a steady thing. You know, us. Exclusive."

"Craig Tolland, are you asking me to be your girlfriend?"

"Well, yes," he grinned.

"Then, yes," I grinned back, and leaned over and kissed him. "Was there every any doubt?"

"There’s always doubt."

"Not in this case." Then I realised something. "What I promised you Thursday meant a lot to you."

"Yes, it did."

"Good. Look, I would never ever put the burden on your head of saving my life or anything stupid like that. I’d never do that to you. It wouldn’t be fair." I took a breath. "But you help, OK?"

"Good," he said. "And I mean it."

"God, I really am crazy about you, Lyubovnik."

"Same goes," he said. "Lyu-what?"

"Lyubovnik. It’s Russian. It’s your new pet nickname. If we’re going out, we have to have pet nicknames for one another, right?"

He looked at me and cracked up. "God. Remember when you were in the hospital and I told you that last year I thought you were part 16 years old and part 30?" I nodded. "Well, apparently I missed the part that was, you know, ten."

"Oh, her. I had her locked up. She’s just escaped recently."

"Good, she needed to," he said. "So, what’s that thing mean, anyway?"

"Lyubovnik? Hmm. Maybe someday I’ll tell you," I smirked.

"Oh, jeez. Forget engineering, you should go into the CIA. International Woman of Mystery."

"Klusse--Ginny Klusse," I deadpanned, then cracked up. "Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue like ‘Bond--James Bond’, does it?"

We snuggled and kissed and cuddled for a while after that, until it was time for him to go. He walked me to my door and kissed me again. I watched him go back down the walk.

When I went in the house, Mom and Dad were sitting there, watching a movie on TV. "So, how was your date?" Mom asked.

I couldn’t help it--I screamed it. "GINNY’S GOT A BOYFRIEND!!!!!!!!!!!"

Shannon was ecstatic for me in our session on Tuesday. Then came group on Thursday. That was interesting.

One of the things Shannon always had us discuss was our successes and setbacks. So, of course, Ginny having a boyfriend came up.

They were all happy for me. Of course, Zoe had to say something. It’d come up in previous sessions that Zoe was no virgin. "Good, maybe now you’ll get laid," Zoe said.

"Well, not right now," I laughed. "I’m going to have to play a little bit hard to get. But I’m looking forward to it."

"Sex isn’t all it’s cracked up to be," Karen said.

"How would you know?" I asked her. "You’ve never had sex." She looked at me incredulously. "You haven’t. I might not be a shrink, but I know enough to know that rape is not sex."

"I tell her that all the time," Shannon said.

"But, it’s different," Karen said. "I mean, I responded. A couple of times I came!"

"Oh, that don’t mean shit," Zoe said. "All that is is physical. It’s a part of your body that responds to stimulation getting it. That’s all it is. Look, if you rub my clittie a certain way, I’m gonna have an orgasm, and whatever else is going on is irrelevant."

"That can’t be true," Karen said.

"It is. Look, one of my many talents is that I give an absolutely hellacious blowjob," Zoe said, cracking us all up. "It’s true. I’ll make you forget your damn name.

"Anyhow, Seth is gay. Not attracted to girls at all. I’m guessing that if I stripped naked right now, Seth’s Little Head wouldn’t even twitch, am I right?" Seth laughed and nodded agreement.

"Right. But if I ripped his pants down and got my mouth on him, I guarantee it would twitch. It’d be like steel in a second, and I’d having him cumming his brains out before he could say ‘Wait, I’m gay!’ Absolutely guarantee it. Because it’d all be a physical sensation."

"Don’t you think sex is mental?" Shannon asked.

"Sometimes. Not always." Her voice dropped a bit. "Look, I can tell you guys this. When my brain was more haywire, I slept around. And I mean a lot. I’m not even sixteen years old, and I’m over 50. Guys, I mean." She took a breath. "Sex shut up the voices. The ones in my head, I mean. If I was having an orgasm, they weren’t there.

"Anyhow, I have, a couple of times, slept with guys I absolutely could not stand because I’d heard they knew their way around a girl. At least twice I had to do it with my eyes closed so I could ignore who I was with. But I came. It was all physical. I’ve also slept with older guys--in some cases, the proverbial old enough to be my daddy. And I’m not particularly attracted to older guys. But they’re experienced and usually good. Hey, I slept with a balding pudgy guy in his forties. He wasn’t attractive at all, and he was a little too enthusiastic about bedding a fifteen year old, if you know what I mean. It was disgusting, if you think about it. He was a fat old pervert. All of which doesn’t change the fact that he made me cum so hard I saw stars. "

"It’s better when there’s emotions involved," Shannon said.

"I have no doubt about that," Zoe agreed, "though I can’t quite say I have any experience in it. I’ve had sex with friends, and friends is better than, you know, pickups--but I’ve never been in love. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t capable of love up until recently anyway, not that kind of love.

"But my point is you can get off without emotion. I mean, is there anyone here that doesn’t play with themselves?"

"I used to...before...but I haven’t in a while," Karen said.

"Yeah, but you used to. So you know what it is. And it’s completely physical. I’m not having an emotional relationship with my right hand, right?" We all cracked up at that. "It’s the physical stimulation of a pleasure center. Yeah, I know, fantasizing can help get you off a bit quicker. But it’s still almost all physical." Zoe looked right at Karen. "And that’s all it was with you, too."

Karen looked positively grateful. Damn, Zoe was cool.

"Zoe, does it now bother you?" Shannon asked. "Being that active, I mean, and with so many partners."

"Somewhat. Because I’m past it, but that’s my reputation, you know? Now that I’m feeling more like an actual human being, I want what Ginny has. But at school I’m the Designated Slut and the crazy chick that tried to off herself."

"Well, I’ve got the latter, plus School Brain, and I found someone," I said.

"You got damn lucky. And don’t you forget it," Zoe laughed.

"Just keep looking, girlfriend. Hey, Sam’s available."

Zoe shot a speculative look at Sam. "Hmm. That’s an idea. He’s cute--and sweet, too."

Poor Sam just blushed crimson! Zoe wasn’t done yet. "So, Sam. You want me to teach you what I know?"

"Uh, well, um...."

"Shit. This is the offer of a lifetime," Zoe teased. Poor Sam just squirmed!

It was November now. The month passed normally.

Well, normally for me, anyhow. Which was more normal than I used to be but not quite, you know?

Craig and I just got closer and closer. We still hadn’t done much physically, but that was OK. He’d confessed that making out was as far as he’d ever gotten--with the odd grab of a boob through a shirt and bra, but that was it. He was a virgin, too. I think that made me feel a little better. So, we were kind of working up to things. That was fine.

I did notice that we’d gone to a school dance in November and he kept playing grab-ass every time we slow danced! "OK, so you do have a thing about my ass," I said to him.

"Guilty," he grinned.

I was still in therapy, and still in group. And group was working out well, because I considered those people friends. Zoe really was a hot shit. We’d traded phone numbers and talked a couple times a week.

Then, after group one day, Seth came up to me and asked me to go get a cup of coffee. I did, and we were just chatting. In the course of the conversation, he mentioned a place.

"It’s kind of a club, but it’s not advertised. I just found out about it a couple months ago, and now I go there almost every weekend. It’s for teenagers, no booze. There’s a coffee bar and couches and tables and stuff in the front room, and a dance floor with a DJ in the back. So you can chat--or make out on a couch," he grinned, "or you can go dance."

"This is for gay kids I take it?" I asked.

"Mostly. What they call it is gay-friendly. In other words, straight kids are welcome as long as they’re not going to have a problem with two guys or two girls making out in the corner or dancing with each other." He grinned. "You do see some stuff there, though."

"What do you mean?"

"One of my best friends in the world is a girl named Catherine. In fact, she’s the one that told me about this place. I knew her from a camp a few years ago. We still talked, but she didn’t know I was gay--she didn’t find out until after my suicide attempt. That’s when she told me about this club. I didn’t know that she was bi.

"Anyhow, she’s bi. She has a boyfriend Tom, and a girlfriend Stephie."

"That’s gotta be confusing," I laughed.

"Oh, it gets better. Stephie is also bi and has a boyfriend, Rich. Tom and Rich are also bi. You can figure out the rest."

I cracked up. "I’ve heard of a love triangle, but a square?"

"That’s pretty much how it is, though the two unconnected couples--that’d be Rich and Cath, and Tom and Stephie--aren’t completely hands-off either. The love is along the square, as you called it, but the others really like one another. You see, the parents involved know about the hetero couplings. And are pretty cool with them. They have no problem with the two couples going off for a weekend or something. So there’s been moments where all four have had the opportunity to be in the same place with some privacy. From what they tell me, it’s basically your big pile of orgasming body parts."

"So it’s like this big foursome?"

"Yeah. They quote double-date unquote," Seth laughed. "Evidently there was one night at the drive-in where it started with the two hetero couples making out, one in each seat--but it ended with guys in front, girls in back, making out."

"It’s lucky it worked out, though. I mean how do you arrange something like that?"

"Very carefully," he deadpanned. "Seriously, it started with Cath and Stephie, they’ve been lovers since they were 12. They always knew they were bi, though, so guys were always an option. When Cath met Tom, they fell pretty quickly--and Cath felt she had to tell Tom about Stephie. Tom not only had no problem with it, but confessed he was also bi. They went actively looking for a guy to complete the square after that. They actually met Rich at the club. They noticed he was looking at Tom and Stephie. And Tom and Stephie were both checking him out. So they reeled him in."

"That’s great," I laughed. Then I twigged onto it. "You’re telling me all this because you want me to come to this club, aren’t you?"

"Yeah. Look, Ginny, I consider you a friend. I like going out with my friends, and this is my favorite place. It’s also safe--and that means for you, too. You know that gay and lesbian teenagers have a ridiculously high rate of suicide, or attempts, or suicidal thoughts." I nodded. "Well, the reasons might be different between a depressed gay person and a depressed brain like yourself, but the impulse is similar. The ostracism in school is similar, too. People there that see your wrists will commiserate, not judge. Karen and her boyfriend have actually come a couple of times. Karen loves it--and Aaron thinks it’s cool as well."

"Karen and Aaron--I get a kick out of that, rhyming boyfriend and girlfriend" I laughed. "Anyhow, I think I’d like to. I have to convince Craig, though."

"I bet you you don’t. I bet you all you have to do is ask him."

Seth was right. "Sure," Craig said the minute I asked him.

"You sure you won’t feel uncomfortable?"

"No. I’m open minded. And I might feel uncomfortable if we just wandered in there out of the blue, but not if Seth is there to introduce us around."

"You’ve never met Seth," I laughed.

"But he’s your friend, so you’ll introduce him to me and then he’ll introduce us around. I want to meet him, to tell you the truth. Karen, too."

"As long as you’re sure."

"I’m sure, as long as you’re not going there to satisfy your secret urge for girls," he laughed.

"Not hardly," I laughed back. "I’m completely straight."

"Good."

So we went, a couple Saturdays before Thanksgiving. Seth met us there and led us in.

It was as lot of fun, but it was also very very interesting. And educational. I learned a lot that night.

First of all, I found out that everybody likes Seth. He’s the life of the party. Everybody came over sooner or later. Which was cool for Craig and I, being the newbies, because we got introduced to everyone. But Seth was in his element. He was a people person. It must be especially tough on a people person to be ostracized--here, he wasn’t.

"This place must’ve been like a godsend to you," I said to him at one point.

"Yep," he agreed happily.

At one point, I saw him talking intently to a good-looking guy. He came back grinning and said, "That’s Adam. We’re doing The Dance at the moment."

"The Dance?" I asked him.

"Oh, you know--the little looks, the eye-lock, the shy little smile. All that shit you do right before you ask someone out."

"Go for it. He’s cute," I said.

"I know," Seth agreed.

So, I liked seeing Seth here.

And then there was Karen. I think part of it was the place--she seemed very at ease and comfortable there. But that wasn’t most of it. Most of it was Aaron.

I’d heard her talk about him, of course. And because of what she’d been through, the way she talked about him sounded almost like they were in a relationship between two scarred people that were hanging on by a thread and didn’t know if they’d ever be able to get past the scars. But, damn, that’s not what it looked like. It looked like two people so hopelessly in love with each other that they wouldn’t notice if a bomb dropped on their heads.

It was very, very nice to see. In group, Karen is Miss Angst, even when she talks about Aaron. When she’s with him? No angst at all. There was one point where we were on a couch. Seth was on a chair facing us, and we were talking, but the rest of us were on a couch. I was sitting, quite happily, on Craig’s lap. But Karen and Aaron were completely curled up together in a little ball. Karen looked like a well-fed cat sunning herself--completely, utterly content. And Aaron just doted on her. I know the hell she’d been through had affected their relationship--but he was just a complete rock. I noticed it immediately. What I really noticed was the touching. Not sexual touching--just rubbing her shoulders or brushing her hair out of her face, stuff like that. Aaron did that constantly. Karen basked in it.

I’d been worried about Karen since the minute I met her. I was a lot less worried after that night.

Anyhow, we had a good time. We danced, drank coffee, talked.

At one point, we were just standing around, and we heard, "Jesus, Seth, you brought more breeders in here?"

"Oh, shaddap," Seth said, but he was grinning. We looked and saw this short, cute, but very butch girl approaching the table. "Terri, this is Ginny. She’s in group with me. And this is her boyfriend Craig."

"Nice to meet you," Terri grinned, shaking our hands. "I was just kidding with the breeder crack."

"I know," I laughed.

"So, Seth, another from group? You gonna get them all in here eventually?"

"There’s only two more. I don’t know if I could get them to come," Seth said.

"Oh, Zoe would come," Karen said. "Zoe would come just for the hell of it."

"She might come for other reasons," I laughed. "We talk on the phone, and she once told me that she was ninety percent straight and ten percent curious."

"Sounds like a fish waiting to be reeled in," Terri laughed. "What about the other one?"

"Sam? No, no, never, no," Seth said. "Sam would be scared shitless coming in here."

"Sam’s scared of everything, the poor kid," I said. "Including his own shadow."

"And Zoe," Karen laughed.

"What about you?" Terri asked me. "Are you ten percent curious?"

"I am a hundred percent straight, and a hundred and ten percent his," I laughed, pointing at Craig.

"OK, OK," Terri laughed. "It’s a damn, shame, though, Girl, you have a hell of an ass."

Oh, GOD. I did not want to look at Craig. I did anyway. I was right--complete self-satisfied shit-eating grin. And then the bastard said to Terri, "Tell her that again, please."

"What? That she has a grade A ass? She does." She looked back at me. "If you weren’t straight and taken I’d love to get my hands all over it."

"Thank you," Craig laughed.

"I missed something," Terri said.

"You just confirmed what I’ve been telling her for two months," Craig laughed. "She keeps saying it’s fat. I keep telling her it’s delicious."

Terri looked at Craig, then looked at me, and said, "Keep him." And then walked off. Craig couldn’t stop laughing.

"Now I’m gonna think everyone’s looking at my ass all night!" I said.

"Ginny, I look at your ass every night," Craig said.

"You are in big trouble, Lyubovnik."

"I can’t wait," he grinned.

School was good. And bad.

The good part was I wasn’t alone. The bad part was that the vultures seemed to be coming out of the woodwork again.

A lot of the whispering and catcalls and insults were back. I tried to shrug them off. I guess the ‘novelty’ of my suicide attempt had worn off. And although the teachers weren’t pinning me down in class much anymore, they found other ways. Ellis graded a damn essay test on a curve, and made sure the whole class knew who exactly was perched on the top swoop of the curve. Me, of course.

Look, I don’t care how thick your skin is. And I don’t care how useless you might think certain people are. When you hear one of those useless people refer to your own suicide attempt and say, "It’s just too bad that they found the bitch in time," it hurts.

Overall it was probably a lot less, but I was right--the suicide attempt gave them new ammunition. People yelling, "There’s a knife--hide it from Ginny!" and the like.

And I wasn’t any better at standing up for myself. Some people badly needed a loudly delivered, "Oh, fuck off, you stupid git!" And I just didn’t have that kind of thing in me.

The good part was lunch. Because I wasn’t eating alone anymore. Craig ate with me every day, of course. Johanna and Alex joined as well, as did Cap. And there was one other--Angela.

God, I did a good thing. Can I say that? Fuck it. I did a damn good thing. Because something had happened to that girl.

I don’t know how ‘close’ she really was. Thinking about suicide is not exactly uncommon in teenagerdom. Trying it is another kettle of fish, of course. But thinking about it--lots of kids think about it. She may have never tried it. I don’t think she ever got really close to trying it. The fact that she was confident of her parents’ love might’ve kept her from actually trying it. It was a low-grade hum in the back of her mind, but she’d never attempted it.

That’s a roundabout way of saying that I’m not by any means taking credit for ‘saving her life’ or any of that shit. But Shannon was clearly helping her. And I forced the issue. That I will take credit for.

To say that she ‘blossomed’ or ‘burst out of her shell’ would be a ridiculous overstatement. But she was at least peeking her head out of the shell and taking a look around. I mean, she actually talked. She even smiled once in a while. I’d even seen her walking the halls without hugging the wall like she wanted it to suck her in or something. I mean, when we were eating lunch together, there were six people at that lunch table--not five people and one mannequin. She talked to us. Now, she didn’t talk as much as Johanna--nobody talks as much as Johanna--but she interacted. This was big, big progress.

So, I was a bit dismayed to see her approach me one day after school. She looked like the old Angela--downcast eyes, chewing on her bottom lip, all hunched over like she wanted to curl up into an inconspicuous ball. "Can I talk to you?" she said in that tiny little voice. Uh-oh. Last time she asked me that....

"Sure," I said, faking being chipper. "Why don’t I give you a ride home? That way we can talk, and I’ll save you from the horrors of the bus." At least I got a little giggle.

We got in the car, and I started it up. "So, what’s on your mind? I said.

"Cap asked me out."

Didn’t expect that! "That’s great!" Then I looked over at her--it was still the old miserable Angela. "Wait a minute, isn’t it great? Did you turn him down?"

"I told him I’d tell him tomorrow."

"Do you want to go out with him?"

"Oh, yes!"

"So what’s the problem?"

"My parents," she said miserably. "I don’t know how they’re going to react."

"They’re kind of overprotective, aren’t they?"

"No. Yes. Well, they kind of are, but I don’t think that’s the problem," she said. "It’s not me going out on a date. I think they’d be OK with that." She took a breath. "I just don’t know how they’re going to react to me going out with someone who’s Black."

"Oh," I said. That was a toughie. "Are they prejudiced?"

"I don’t know. They’ve never come out and said, but there’s the odd comment. If there’s something on the news about bad stuff happening in the city"--Detroit, she meant--"they’ll make a comment about ‘those people’. I don’t know at all what’s going to happen."

"You won’t know until you ask."

"Yeah."

"Do you have any problem with it?"

"God, NO!" she burst out.

Ah, I think I got it now. We had gotten to her house, and I waited until I pulled over and stopped the car to ask. "You really like Cap, don’t you?"

Boy. When that girl blushed it was like a sunburn. A three-day sunburn. "Yeah, I really like him," she admitted. "God, Ginny, he makes me laugh! Great big belly laughs. Nobody’s ever made me laugh like that! Plus, he’s really sweet. And he’s interesting. I can listen to him talk about sailing all day long, and I’ve never even been on a boat in my life."

"Good, you like him. Look, Angela, if you like him that much--it’s worth standing up for."

"You mean with my parents?"

"Sure. Look, if they forbid you to date Cap only because he’s Black, what would you think about that?"

"Well, I’d be very upset of course."

"That’s not what I meant."

"What did you mean?"

"Angela, it’d be wrong. Very wrong for them to do that. You’d be in the right, they’d be in the wrong. Remember that."

She took a breath. "You have a point, but there’s another. Look, this isn’t 1964, but I’m not stupid. Interracial relationships still get a hard time from some people."

"True. But it wouldn’t stop you would it?"

"No! I don’t care what people think."

"Then you tell your parents that, too. Angela, when I came over and told your mother you were thinking of suicide, I scared the crap out of her. They want you to be happy. If they’re worried about you--and not just being bigots--they will give you a chance to convince them this is what you want."

"Hmm. That makes sense." She smiled, finally. "Thanks, Ginny. You’re the best."

"No problem. Good luck."

It all worked out--for Angela, I mean. Angela told them she got asked out, and they were thrilled. And then she told them he was Black. Evidently, they were very good about it. They were kind of worried about what Angela had talked about, that people would give her and Cap a hard time. Once they realized that she didn’t care, they let her go.

So, November passed into December.

One cool thing was that my parents actually offered to make Thanksgiving dinner. I turned them down, but the offer was nice!

We’d always gone to a restaurant, at least for the last 10 years or so. Mom couldn’t be bothered with cooking--and, of course, I’d never said that it bothered me that she didn’t. This year, she told me she would.

Things at home had been, well, OK. Once the immediate crisis with me had passed, Mom and Dad did go back to the old habits a bit. Their work hours started getting ridiculous.

But not always, and not as much. They were trying for a balance. And one of them--usually Mom--called me every day after school. And if I even hinted that I’d like supper at home with both of them, it happened. They made sure they were home at least a couple nights a week for supper, and they stopped the early morning working and were always there for breakfast. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a good change. I knew they were trying.

When Mom actually offered to do the whole Thanksgiving turkey thing, I really knew they were trying. The problem was, a couple days before, Craig had offered to have me go over his house!

I’d only just met his parents a week or so before that. I guess there was a bit of a problem there. His parents weren’t thrilled we were going out. That first couple days that I was in the hospital, his Mom had noticed he was preoccupied, and asked why. He ended up telling her. And then we ended up going out. I’m sure she was apprehensive--her son was now dating the whacko that slit her wrists.

I’d noticed that he’d never asked me over there to meet his family, but I didn’t say anything. I figured that was his business. I found out about his parents’ worry afterwards. I guess after a month or so of us going out, his parents figured it wasn’t going away. So, on a Friday night a week and a half before Thanksgiving, we were planning on hitting another football game, when he told me his parents wanted me to come over for dinner.

As I said, I only found out exactly what his mother had been thinking later--but I could guess. He seemed very nervous--uncharacteristically so--about this supper invitation. But I easily accepted. I didn’t want to have to hide ‘us’ from his parents.

So, I was bound and determined to make the best impression that I could. Neurotic Ginny had been banished for the duration. Sweet Happy Loving Ginny was the only one invited. Now I just had to find her!

Craig picked me up and brought me to his house. Damn, he really was nervous. I got led in, and introduced to his parents. They were friendly, but obviously guarded.

Craig also had a sister, he’d mentioned her once or twice. She was 13, her name was Laurie. I met her, too. She seemed very nice. Kind of quiet. Not Angela quiet, but somewhat. I wondered how much she knew.

We sat in the living room while the supper was finishing. "So," his Dad started, "you guys are going to the football game?"

"Yep," Craig smiled.

"Kind of cold out there tonight," Mr. Tolland said.

"Well, that just means it’s a good excuse to cuddle," I said. "God knows we’re not going to see our horrible football team. I’m just giving him no choice but to keep me warm." I grinned at Craig. "And that includes copious hot chocolate, Lyubovnik."

"Your wish is my command, Princess."

"Ooh, Princess. I think I like that one."

"What did you call him?" his sister Laurie asked.

"Lyubovnik. It’s Russian."

"What’s it mean?" Laurie asked.

"Well, I’ll let him tell you just as soon as I tell him. For now, it’s a secret."

"You’re such a brat," Craig said.

"You know it."

It went well. It seemed it was going well. I was loose and relaxed, and Craig seemed so as well. His parents were fine.

So, we ate. Mrs. Tolland is an excellent cook and I told her so. We’d eaten a fine meal and now we were having apple crisp for desert.

The only problem I’d seen throughout the the meal--and a bit beforehand--was that Laurie kept staring at me. She didn’t say much, but kept looking at me. I guessed she had something on her mind. Then, in the middle of the apple crisp, she said it.

"Ginny? Did you really try to kill yourself?"

"LAURIE!" her mother and Craig shouted simultaneously.

Laurie looked at them, not happy. "Nobody tells me anything!" she spat. "I hear all this whispering. Or conversations that end the minute I get in the room. What am I, six? The little kid that doesn’t know what suicide is?" She looked at Craig. "I’ve gotten teased in school about this!"

"What?" Craig croaked.

"A couple kids in my grade have brothers and sisters in the high school. They know what’s going on. ‘Hey, Laurie, I hear your brother’s going out with a nutcase!’" I think we were all completely pale at that point--I know I was. "So," Laurie continued, to me, "did you really try to kill yourself?"

"Yes, I did," I said.

"How?" she asked. So, I pulled up my sleeves and showed her my wrists. She visibly blanched at the sight of my scars. I knew what was coming next. "Why?" she asked.

"That’s complicated," I said.

"I’m not stupid, I can understand complicated," Laurie spat.

"I have no doubt you can, but if I tried to explain it all, we’d miss the football game," I said with a grin--which at least got a hint of one from Laurie. "The short version is lonliness. Lonliness and being ostracized and pressure."

"What made you so lonely?" That was from Craig’s mother, who decided to get in on the conversation.

"Oh, I had no friends. I mean zero," I said. "And I know now my parents love me, but I didn’t then. They weren’t very great at showing me. That’s getting better."

"Why did you have no friends?" Laurie asked.

"Most of the kids in school hate me," I said.

"Why?" Mrs. Tolland asked.

"Just things about me. I didn’t help, but I didn’t realize that at the time."

"I don’t understand," Laurie said. "You seem nice to me."

"Well, thank you," I grinned, but didn’t say anything more.

"You’re not going to say it, are you?" Craig said to me. I just shrugged. "You know, that’s what I hate the most about this. Those jerks in school have made you ashamed of what you are. That just sucks. Well, if you’re not going to say it, I am." He turned to his family. "The reason kids in school hate her is jealousy. You see, she’s the smartest person in school. Heck with that, I think she’s the smartest person in Michigan."

"Let’s not get carried away," I laughed.

"Wouldn’t surprise me," he grinned back. "She’s never gotten anything less than an A in her life," he continued to his family. "She wrecks the curve in every class. She’s a whiz at math and science. And she speaks five languages."

"FIVE?" Laurie spat.

"That’s what he said," I laughed, pointing to Craig.

"So, that’s why they pick on her. Sheer jealousy," Craig said. He turned to Laurie. "So, squirt, any time any of those kids tease you about your brother going out with a ‘nutcase’, you just tell ‘em, ‘No, my brother goes out with a genius!’" Laurie grinned at that one. Craig sat back and put his hands behind his head. "Hell, I figure if we ever get married, I won’t even have to work. I’ll just stay home and raise the kids and let her beautiful brains make me rich!"

We all laughed at that, me most of all. "Well, sweetie, maybe if I go into engineering," I told him. "But theoretical physicists don’t generally get rich."

"Engineering it is, then," he proclaimed with a little smirk. I just whacked him on the shoulder.

After the laughter died down, Laurie asked the kicker. "You’re not going to do it again, are you?"

I took a breath and gave my standard answer. "I’m working very hard on not wanting to."

"What does that mean?" Mr. Tolland asked, a bit roughly.

"Dad..." Craig said.

"Look," Mrs. Tolland interjected. "Ginny, this isn’t easy for us. We worry about Craig dating someone....." and she faltered.

I finished for her. "Unstable? I can understand that. Look, Craig and I have talked about this, you know. It worries him, too."

"It does," he agreed, "I won’t lie about it. But I couldn’t help falling in love with her, so we deal with it."

My heart skipped a good three beats at that. He’d never said he was in love with me before! This wasn’t the time to deal with that however. Make no mistake, though, I basked in it! "Anyhow, as to what you asked, Mr. Tolland," I said, "this is the way my therapist talks about it. Suicide isn’t a disease, it’s a symptom. You don’t cure suicidal thoughts. You cure what’s causing them. That’s what I’m trying to do."

"She made me a promise a while ago," Craig told them. "She promised that if she ever felt that way again, she’d at least talk to me about it. We’d talk it out before she did anything foolish. I’m gonna hold her to that promise."

"Things are better?" Mrs. Tolland asked.

"Lots better," I said. "My parents and I are working things out, I’ve made some friends, and I’ve got this guy," I said, grinning at Craig. "Things aren’t perfect--most of the school is going to hate me right through graduation--but I’m insulated from it somewhat due to Craig and the friends I’ve made."

"But what if Craig is the problem?" his mom asked. "What if he breaks up with you? Are you going to threaten to do it again? That’s what we worry about, putting that kind of burden on Craig."

I took a breath around the lump in my throat. Yes, I’ve thought of this, as much as I don’t want to. "I’m not going to lie--if Craig broke up with me, it’d be tough. But I have other places to go, people to turn to, if that should happen. I’m not making any promises, but I think I’d get through it. I told him once that I didn’t ever plan on ever forcing him to be my savior, and I meant it."

"Besides which, why the heck would I ever break up with her?" Craig asked with a smile. Oh, thank you, sweetie, I thought to myself. "She’s just about perfect for me."

"You never know," Mr. Tolland said. "Kids fight."

"We don’t really," I said.

"Yeah," Craig agreed. "The closest we ever come to fighting is when she has one of her days when her self-esteem is in the toilet. And that’s not really fighting, that’s me lecturing her."

"True story," I laughed.

"But there’s things you might not have thought about. Things that come up with teenagers dating," Mrs. Tolland said. "I mean, what about sex?"

"Mom!" Craig yelled.

"Well," Mrs. Tolland said, "it’s an issue that breaks up a lot of teenagers. I know Craig is a good boy, but he’s a boy. Boys push things. What would you say, Ginny, if Craig tried to put his hand up your shirt at the football game?"

"MOM!!!"

I was trying very hard to keep my laughter in. "Well, if he put his hand up my shirt at the game, I’d probably screech." I turned to Craig. "It’s ten degrees out, those hands are gonna be freezing!"

"Good point," he laughed. "Anyhow, Mother, I am not going to discuss my sex life with you, but rest assured I’d never push Ginny to a place she didn’t want to go. Ever."

"I trust him," I told them. "I trust him more than I’ve ever trusted another person in my entire life. And that’s because he’s earned it." They looked pretty happy at that, at least.

Luckily, it was time to go to the football game.

"That must have been tough for you," Craig said quietly in the car. "I’m sorry."

"Don’t be," I said. "I have things to answer for. And I’m so sorry your sister’s been affected by this."

"It’s OK. It’ll work itself out."

"You think?" I snorted. "I realized something," I told him. "They’re never going to go away, you know." He glanced over at me. "The scars. They’re never going to go away. As long as I live, I’m going to have a reminder; one I can’t hide or ignore."

"That’s true," he agreed. "So, you can take it two ways. You can get down about it. Or you can make it work for you. You know, as kind of an early-warning system."

"I see your point, but I was more thinking along the lines of explaining them. I’m going to have to do that forever."

"No, you’re not," he said. "Look, I was trying to save you from explaining it tonight--but Laurie had a point. However, this was your boyfriend’s family--your boyfriend’s sister. That was different. But there are going to be people who ask--and it’s most of them--that you can justifiably say ‘None of your fucking business.’"

"I suppose you’re right. I guess I had a flash of twenty or so years from now having to explain the scars on Mommy’s wrists to my kid."

He turned and grinned at me. "Honey, you’re getting better."

"Why do you say that?"

"You just talked about twenty years in the future. And having children, even."

"I guess I did," I smiled back.

"And, let me tell you something. If you live long enough to have children--if you don’t try this again--you will be able to put it in a place where you can explain it and it doesn’t bother you so much."

"Yeah," I agreed. "I hope."

"You will."

We went to the football game. We had a good time. I was able to put it in the corner. Afterwards, he said, "We have a few hours before our curfews. You want to do something else?"

"I want you to take me home," I said. Before he could get upset, I grinned. "I figured we could watch TV and make out or something."

"Good idea," he grinned back. "Won’t your parents be there, though?"

"If they are, we’ll go up to my room."

"They wouldn’t mind?"

"No," I laughed. "Believe me, no. You don’t know my parents."

"OK," he said.

We got to my house, and my parents were in fact there. We chatted for a bit, then I said, "Craig and I are going to go up to my room and watch TV."

"OK, have fun," Mom smiled.

We got up there and Craig looked at me. "Your parents know we’re not going to be paying much attention to the TV, don’t they?"

"No doubt," I laughed. "I told you." I got on my bed, lying down on it, looking up over at him. "Now get over here and kiss me!"

"Don’t have to ask twice," he chuckled. We got into it, a nice make-out session sprawled all over the bed. Boy, he could kiss me all day and I wouldn’t even complain about the chapped lips!

We made out for a while, and then he pulled away, a little impish look on his face. "So," he said, "what would you say if I tried to put my hand up your shirt?"

"The bra unsnaps in the back, sweetie. And after that I figure it’d just be your basic moaning."

He blinked. "You’re serious."

"Dead serious. Close your eyes."

"Huh?"

"You heard me, Lyubovnik. Close your eyes, and no peeking!" When he did, I quickly stripped off my shirt and bra. Why play games, right? "OK, open up," I said.

He did--and his eyes just about bugged right out of his head!

"God, you’re beautiful," he croaked. Then he leaned in to kiss me again. As he did, his hand reached out and touched my bare boob.

Oh, it was wonderful. His hand felt so good there, I was basking in it. His kisses drove me wild in the first place, but with the added stimulation, I was flying.

I broke the kiss after a few minutes, though. I had to say it. "Craig? I love you, you know."

"I love you, too," he grinned. "I was working up to saying it. I figured I’d have to say it first."

"You did," I grinned back. "At your house."

"I did, didn’t I? I meant to say it to you first!"

"I didn’t mind at all." And then I went back to kissing.

He kissed me for a while, then he broke his lips away from mine, and started kissing down my neck. Well, whaddaya know? Wasn’t that fun! A little nibbling on the neck made me feel like a bowl of jello. Amazing.

But Craig didn’t stop at my neck. He kept going. Before I knew it, he had a nipple in his mouth.

And I thought kisses on the neck were thrilling! Oh my Jesus.

I guess there were noises coming out of my mouth. I didn’t really realize it until Craig pulled off my boob and said, "Yup, you were right about the moaning," and then went back to it. I kept moaning.

I was a little torn. Part of me--most of me--figured that this was a good first step, that going at a steady pace was good, and I was enjoying the hell out of it anyway. But part of me wanted to strip his clothes off and jump him!

I didn’t. We didn’t have unlimited time, anyhow, and I didn’t want to rush that. So, I just enjoyed what he was doing with his tongue on my nipples. Boy did I enjoy it. No, I didn’t have an orgasm. I’m sensitive but not that sensitive. But I was getting there--it wouldn’t take me long after he left to get myself off!

He broke off after a bit and moved back up to kiss me. I was so wound up I think I pretty much shoved my tongue down his throat! He wasn’t complaining--and he still had a hand curled around my boob.

I broke the kiss and hugged him, tight--trapping his hand right where it was. "I love you," I said again.

"I love you too."

I got a glimpse at the clock. "I hate to say this--I really hate to say this--but your curfew is in fifteen minutes."

"I know," he said, sighing, untangling himself from me.

I sat up. "Where’s my shirt?"

"Don’t put it on yet," he said.

"Well, I was going to put it on to walk you down."

"No. I know my way out. I want you to stay right like that until I leave. I want that image burned into my brain."

"I think I like the sound of that," I said. "Because I know exactly what you’re going to be doing the minute you get home."

"Oh, God," he hissed.

"Well? What do you think I’m going to be doing the minute you leave?" I wrapped my arms around him again and leaned in. "Next time we’ll have to start this a bit earlier, so I can help!"

"God, Ginny, what you do to me," he hissed. "I have been trying very hard not to push this."

"You haven’t. At all. No worries on that score, love," I told him.

"I still don’t want to push it," he said, ever the gentleman.

I leaned into his ear again and whispered, "Can’t rape the willing." I think his eyes about bugged out of his head on that one! "But, unfortunately, Lyubovnik, now you have to go. All I need is for you to get grounded."

"Good point," he laughed. He reluctantly climbed out of the bed and stared at me--lying there grinning up at him--for a full minute. "Night, love," he said.

"Sweet dreams," I giggled.

"Oh, you betcha." And then he was gone.

I just stayed right where I was, reclining on the bed, naked from the waist up. I was going to do exactly what I’d said, but I was in no hurry. I was too busy reliving his hands all over my boobs.

There was a knock on my door. "Ginny? Is everything OK?"

"Fine, Mom, why do you ask?"

"The way Craig got out of here. And you didn’t come down with him. I thought you might have had a fight."

"He was coming up on curfew," I said. "And he didn’t want me to walk him down."

"Why not?"

Hmmm. Well, Mom was open, right? "You can come in, Mom, but you’re going to get an eyeful." She opened the door--and saw me there. And cracked up laughing. "He wanted to remember me like this, that’s why he didn’t want me to walk him down."

"I’ll bet," she laughed, closing the door behind her. I was remarkably unselfconscious about sitting in my room with my boobs hanging out talking to my mother. She really could be cool. "Your first time for this sort of thing?"

"Yeah. And we kind of ran out of time, so this was all we did. That’s the other reason he was in a hurry--to get home and, you know, take care of himself."

That just made her laugh harder. "What about you?"

"Well, you interrupted me."

"Sorry," she said, still laughing.

"No biggie, I was in no hurry." Then I got an idea. "Hey, Mom. Since you’re so open-minded and all, you want to help me give my boyfriend a naughty present?"

"What?"

"Over on my computer desk. Grab my digital camera."

"Ooo, you little minx!" she said, cracking up. "But it’s nice to see you really are my daughter." She grinned at me. "In my day, of course, it wasn’t digital cameras. It was Polaroids. Taken with a self-timer in my dorm room. I think your father still has them."

"Unbelievable," I grinned. She had the camera. "Wait," I said. I stood up and started shucking my pants.

"You’re going full-nude? Honey, he might like to see that in person first."

"No. I’m keeping my panties on. Plus I’m gonna cover up a bit." I arranged myself in bed, with the blanket suggestively draped over my hips and ass and naughty bits. You could clearly see my bare legs though. "I just want to give him a hint."

"Good idea," she laughed. She got the camera, and I got into position. "Smile big," she said. I did. She snapped off a few.

"Mom, I wish I figured out before, you know, how cool you were," I said, meaning it to the bottom of my heart.

"I wish I’d shown you better," she said. I got up, grabbed the camera from her, and hooked it up to my computer. "Email?" she said.

"Of course," I grinned.

"Do you trust him that much?"

"Yes," I said firmly.

"Good."

I extracted the photos and emailed them to Craig as fast as I could. That done, I reached for my cell phone. "Hello?" he said.

"Hi, honey, you home yet?"

"Just pulling into the driveway. Is something wrong?"

"Nope. Just this. When you get up into your room--and when you’re absolutely sure you’re completely alone up there--check your email. Love you." Then I threw a kiss and hung up.

Mom was still laughing. "Good show. He’ll love it. Anyhow, I’ll leave you alone now," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

"Thanks," I said. She left.

And I was right. Didn’t take me long at all. And it was the best I’d ever given myself, and by a lot.

Right after I stopped quivering, my cell phone rang. "Hello?" I said.

"You are unbelievable, and I’ve never cum that hard in my life."

"Ditto," I laughed. "I’m glad you liked them."

"God. You surprise me," he said. "What was that, a self timer?"

"Actually, my Mom took them for me."

"WHAT?!?!?"

"She really is very cool."

"Good. And I’m glad you found that out," he said.

"So am I. Almost as glad I found out how cool you are."

"Same goes, honey."

I ended up going to Craig’s for Thanksgiving. I talked it over with Mom and Dad. I made sure they knew I was thrilled with their offer. But when they found out Craig had invited me, they told me they’d not be upset at all if I went over there. I’d told Mom about some of the stuff that had happened with his family. "Then that’s good they invited you," she said, "they want and need to get to know you better."

"That’s what I figured," I said.

"And, I’ll be honest--I would’ve gladly made turkey if you wanted me to, but your father and I really would rather go to the restaurant."

"Good!" I laughed.

So, I went there. It was fine. A lot more relaxed than the first time, even though there were grandparents and aunts and uncles and all there. I made sure I talked as much as I could with Laurie--she needed the reassurance more than anyone, I think. It was good.

And, yes, the Saturday after Thanksgiving--Dad got tickets for the Michigan-Ohio State game. For all four of us, meaning Craig as well. We had a blast and the Wolverines won.

So, November got into December.

I got a phone call on a Sunday early in December. It was from Zoe. She had news.

She’d actually gotten Sam to go out with her!

"And we had a really good time," she said. "We spent all afternoon and evening together yesterday. He opens up more one-on-one. It was nice." She sighed. "He’s what I need--a nice, sweet guy who knows what I’m really like and the problems I have. I knew I liked him before the date, but now I really know."

"Did you jump him?" I laughed.

"NO! Shit, Ginny, I finally got him to stop being scared of me, I don’t want him to start again!"

"I know, I was just teasing," I laughed.

"I did, however, give him the kiss of his life. Which he liked a lot, I could tell."

"Good for you!"

So, things were better. My friends seemed happier. Even Cap and Angela had somehow, very quickly, become near-inseperable. And Angela told me that her parents loved Cap. Five minutes after she brought him home, they were instantly at ease about their relationship. That was good to hear.

Craig and I hadn’t had a chance to get any further--physically, I mean--but that was fine, we had time. All those "I love you" murumurs while we were kissing was the important part. My parents were rallying nicely still. School wasn’t perfect, but fuck it. For once, I had more good things in my life than bad things. By a lot.

And then it all curdled.

It happened two days after that phone chat with Zoe. It being a Tuesday, I had therapy with Shannon. I’d been doing so well she was talking about going down to every other week with our individual therapy, but we hadn’t yet. So, it was Tuesday, so there I was.

I walked in to Shannon’s office. She had her head down looking at her desk. "What’s up, Doc?" I chirped. Then she looked up.

She looked like death.

"Ginny, sit down," she said in the gravest voice I’ve ever heard her use. I went and sat in front of her. Oh, shit. This was bad. This was really bad.

I was right. "Ginny...sometime this morning...Sam somehow got a hold of a gun."

"NO!" I shrieked.

But I knew. Shannon was crying. Then she said it. "Ginny, he’s gone."

--to be continued--

Author’s note: the response to Heroes has been incredible. I’m very grateful

First of all, to preempt the question I know I’m gonna get--yes, Ginny will tell Craig what Lyubovnik means in the final chapter. So those of you who don’t speak Russian will have to be as patient as Craig :-).

Let me answer two common questions I’ve already been getting: first, there will be one more part. Another the size more or less of the first three. So, in about 10K more words I’ll be wrapping Heroes up.

Second: yes. Though Ginny is not me, and is in a lot of ways far different from me--I too have the scar on my left wrist that’ll never go away.

--Frank