Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 {Trigger warnings: This one is about subtle abuses, like Covert Incest. 
Which I believe are even more insidious than the overt explicit once like
rape, and sexual violence, which they can hide behind.  Therefore, I will
include these as well, but this is intentionally over-written to the level
of Veronica Mars.  Therefore, there will also be blatant Puns, masking more
subtle allusion (To Shakespeare, for example, who loved puns.)}
   Sarah Knows (fF NS)
   "You call this Cobbler?" Right next to the Home of the Centurions mural
which inspired me to this tirade.  I tucked my copy of the calendar under
my arms, while she looked at me doubtfully.
   "Now what?" She let the sprayer bounce, took off her gloves, and slammed
the doors up on the dishwasher.  "It's a cobbler, so of course it's Vegan."
She thought, "And gluten free." Since the last time was about not using
Anchovies in the dressing.
   "It's not a pseudo celiac any more than a bunny hugging herbivore, this
is about saying what you mean, and meaning what you say.  A cobbler is
topped with biscuits, while this is more of a crumble.  Never mind the fact
that you use peaches from a can, despite them being in season, it would be
just as easier to use them as call this bungle a Crumble."
   "Well, I don't write the menues, and I have work to do." Gloves already
back on, "So, if you have any more semantic debates about that, you can
take it up with the schoolboard." Which I will, with this practice, and
some intelligence from the head cook, who probably resents washing dishes
anyway.
   If I'm going for President next year, it's better to be prepared.  "Oh,
and oats aren't Gluten Free," if she was thinking about advertise it.  I
have a friend, and she's not pseudoceliac, either.  She knows better, but
it seems more common every year...
   Euphrot (ff pseu/saphism NS, Roma)
   "Why do you stare?" For once, I looked up at her, instead of away.
   Stephanie {AKA Sarah, an allusion}from English class.  "Huh!" I looked
down, "I don't know, because you're pretty?"
   "You think?" She sat down, next to me!?  Why my heart decided to beat so
fast, it was a little embarrassing.
   I nodded, "I wish I were that pretty."
   "Oh," she laughed, "Your not, ugly?"
   "Thanks," my ears burned, but now I can't look at her.
   "You read today's Poem?" From class.  She did, or yesterday's.  It was
her turn, I'd probably have to recite it tomorrow, than.  So I pulled out
the book.
   "Not yet," but.  When she read, well it was a love-poem.  I don't
remember it that well, never really got into poetry, but the way she read
it.  Except when she said "Him," or "He." I could feel it, or it felt like.
Well, I never felt that way about a poem before.  "Um," I bit my lip, "You
like, poems?"
   "They're all right," but I could see it.  On her face, her frown when
she had to say "His..."
   "Uh!"
   "What?"
   "Huh," I tried to think, but she's, distracting me?  "Could you, read it
for me?  I mean, I can read, but I don't get poems, like you do."
   It's not a love poem, so she doesn't frown, or hesitate, to say, "His
Breast.
   What?" She stops.  Smiles, but turns away.
   So, I looked down.  "I don't know, I." Just don't know, "Just.  Hahun,
when you read like that," she looks so beautiful.  I watched people read
before, but just her eyes, tracking back and forth, the words, formed by
her lips, "Could you read that last part, again?" Was she wearing blush? 
How could I not notice her makeup?  Like all through class, then when she
sat down.  Well, her hair hung over the side of her face.
   "Um," she bit her lip, so I did too.  "Raged at his breast, gulped, and
died..." She's a great speaker, I can tell she doesn't feel as scared,
standing up in front of everyone, but the way she reads.  Even the other
students didn't laugh, or trade notes, they all sat, and listened.  Terry
even stopped snoring, and sat up.  "Now you try."
   So, I did, but.  I kept getting distracted.  Leaning over, to read the
book in her lap, and the breese.  I could hear it in the tree overhead, and
her hair slipped over her shoulder.
   "Um?" I sat back, "What kind of name is Ofrot?"
   "Euphrat," I nodded, "It's Slowak.  My mother is from Slowakia."
   "Slovakia?"
   "It's spelled that way, but she says 'Slowak'." I shrug, "I don't know
what it means."
   "Well, it's a pretty name."
   "Like Stephani?" She looks away, frowning like she had to read 'His...'
"What's wrong with Stephany?"
   "I don't know, it's so, common?  I mean, there's fifty-eleven
Steffanie's, and I don't want to be called Steph for short.  I hate
'Fanny'." She made a face.
   "Yeah," I can understand that, "But I like," you, "The way it sounds. 
When you say it."
   "Stephany?"
   "Mm hm!" Nod, and let my lip pop back out.  "Puh!" I took my book back,
and tried again.
   "Raging at..." His, I looked over.  At her eyes, but then she frowned.
   "What?"
   "Why don't.  Uh!  When you read the poem, in class." I don't know the
words, "Huh, well, I could feel it, the way you said it, but."
   "What?"
   "Him." She frowned, "You kept frowning like that, whenever it said Him."
   "Well, it's kinda, erotic." she looked away.  "Doncha think?"
   "Yeah." Seriously, I didn't even know what that word ment before, but
they made us read that, in high school!?  "Well," had to say something,
"This isn't that kinda poem.  It's about War," but I don't see what's so
kind about it?
   "Yeah, so you want to put more force into it.  "WAR!" It's not."
   "Why does he say it's 'Kind'?" ~S.  Crane.
   "Because it isn't.  It's facetious, um.  Sarcasm?" I just wanted to hear
her say it, again.
   "Oh," I get it.  "So like war is cruel, so he calls it kind to make fun
of it." So I kept saying Kind, until I stopped to see if that would make
her say it.
   "Right.  Um, you got lunch?"
   "No, lunch money," I'm saving it, "I'll get hungry later."
   "You're not trying to lose weight."
   "Why not?" Maybe a little.
   "Well, for one thing, how much do you have to lose?" I had to look away,
from her eyes.  Looking down at my body before she frowned.
   "I don't know, a few pounds?"
   "Do you feel ugly?"
   "I guess?"
   "Well, you aren't." She got out a book, "Look," her sketch book, and a
pencil.  She flipped past a bunch of pictures.
   "Why does she have horns?"
   "She's a goat?"
   "Why do you draw goat-people?" Naked?
   "Well?" she shrugged, "I don't know, it's different?  Look around, all
you see all day is the same people, the same walls, the same everything,
and it's boring.  And, I guess I wanted to see what she'd look like, with
horns."
   "And a beard?"
   "Well, she Is a goat!  So, she has a goatie." I laughed.  "Mh," she
found a clean sheet, but got up, and crossed her legs.  In front of me, her
pencil traced a circle, then came back around to point down, then back up.
Like my chin.  "Beauty isn't." She moved up to the top, "Like a line.
  
<--------------------------------------------------------------------------
>
   It's not like, pretty over here, an ugly over there, because you are
not. Well, nobodie's 1 thing.
   Here, you have your face,
   but here you have, your nose." Or just the bottom, the shadow under it.
   "Your mouth."
   She draws with lines, but then, she just shaded over my lips for the
nose, I sighed.  "So, you have pretty lips," my face burned, "and your nose
is.  Like the proportion above your mouth, and below it." She held it up,
turned it right side up.  "Here, and here, most girls have more chin, but
yours is more centered, or even."
   "Huh!" Never saw that before.  I mean, compared to other girls, but when
she stopped talking.  Yeah, it's not like she has more chin than me, but I
guess I've got more lip?
   "So what I'm saying is, you have pretty eyes, and your mouth, and your
nose, but beauty isn't all those parts, so much as how they look together.
This is your face.  All of it, and while the proportions aren't what
everyone calls "Pretty," it gives you an unique beauty all your own.  We
all have beauty," I shrank back.  She just pushed my hair away, "But you.
You hide it too much."
   "Really?" Her eyes, I don't know how she can call my eyes pretty, but
she didn't look away.
   "Yeah," she smiled, "But these bangs." She frowned.
   So, she cut them.  In the restroom, she had makeup too, I just never
noticed her wearing it, because she makes it look invisible.  Even among
all the confusion of being dragged out of the caffeteria, and through the
halls, I was intensely aware of my hand in both of hers'.  Most girls seem
to wear all these bright colors, like blue, and green over their eyes, but
she just shaded.  In the mirror, just holding the brush over my shoulder to
get my cheek.  "You have great cheekbones, but I have to fill in a lot to
make it look like you have cheeks."
   "Why?"
   "Well, with the way they sink in, they make everything look gaunt, like
a skull." I told you I was ugly, "No." she turned my head, looked me right
in my eyes.  "Stop that."
   "What?"
   "You hate yourself, stop it!  Seriously, if you ever want someone to
notice you, that's what they see first.  Uh!"
   "Like a boy?" She looked away, so I grinned.  Didn't say anything, but I
had my suspicions.  Ever since I heard her read about 'His Kisses.' The way
she frowned.  "Stephanie?" She looked back, "Are you gay?" She sure draws a
lot of naked girls, and women, and, other, female, things.
   "I don't know!?" she turned away.  But the bell rang.  I didn't care
about class, but that ment girls coming into the bathroom, and it can get
pretty crowded.  And loud in there, too loud to talk.
   So, I went to class.  I wish I could draw like her too.  Or draw her,
the way she drew me, and all of a sudden I felt hungry.  And skinny, too
skinny, she said "Gaunt." I don't want to look gaunt, but the makeup.  I
could feel it on my cheeks, it was distracting.  "Huh!"
   Stephany (ff...  NS)
   "...Do not weep, War is Kind."
   "Good, Oafraut." The other girls giggled, but she looked up.
   "Euphrat." she shook her head, hanged it back to her seat.
   "Very good, Eufrot." She tried.  "Vast improvement." She wrote something
down in pen.
   "You read the whole thing?"
   "Oaf!"
   "Terence," she warned.  "Now, we'll have to rush through the quiz, so
write your essays, and bring them back tomorrow." She handed out the test
sheets.
   "Yeah," she leaned over, "I liked it, so I looked up the whole book."
Read it from a library book, instead of the textbook.  She heard us, so she
leaned back.
   "Good, Eaufrot.  Perhaps you just needed the right inspiration." I bent
over the paper, but she kept looking up.  Euphrat, wrote her name at the
top.  Not from her test, from the poem, as if she was reading it to me. 
"Huh!" I got up, hand in the quiz, and grabbed the pass.  Didn't really
have to go, that bad, but it's nice to have the restroom to yourself.
   I wish she came with me.  "Stephanie?" my reflection asked me.  "Are you
gay?"
   I could look away, but.  "Huh!" Yeah.  She's, I don't know if I really
am, but.  She's, so.  ?
   "Euphrat." The bell rang, and the halls were to crowded to catch her
coming out, until lunch.  Which means math.  Bleagh!  "Huh!"
   Euphrat {ff...  NS}
   "Are you taking Art?" she hummed to herself too.
   "Not yet," she shrugged, flipped over to the erasor, but the way she. 
Well she sketched the curve of of breast back and forth, then erased the
lines she didn't want.  It was fascinating to watch.  "Huh!  My mom, and
dad I guess.  They buy a lot of art, so," the other shoulder, "I guess I
grew up with it.  I like to draw."
   "Girls," I noticed, "Nudes."
   "Well," she shook her head, "You start with the bone-structure, then the
flesh, and then the clothes." She just never seems to get to the clothes,
not like they have, nipples, or anything.
   "They have a lot of money?" She looked at me, "I mean, art.  It's
expensive."
   "Well yeah.  Some, we're not rich, but mom has some saved from her
Modeling, and dad got lucky, on the markets."
   "So, your mom's a model." Explained a lot.
   "Well, not a supermodel, but when she was younger, she did some.  Well
mostly catalogues, and shows."
   "What kind of shows?"
   "You know, car shows, there was a commercial for a furniture store, but
they don't run it anymore."
   "Oh," but I guess it tells where, well honestly she looks like a model.
Or she's beautiful, and tall, but not as skinny.
   "You're eating lunch." Oh right, brought a sandwitch.
   "School food," I made a face.  "Huh!" She frowned, "All right, I thought
about, what you said.  In the bathroom yesterday, about my cheeks?" Or lack
thereof.  "And well?  I guess you're right.  I have been getting pretty
gaunt."
   "Huh!" What!?  "If this is the weight you're comfortable with, then who
am I to tell you different?"
   "But I'm not." She looked confused, "Comfortable with it.  My body, I
hate it.  Ever since I started, you know."
   "Your period?" Set down my sandwitch.
   "No?  Well growing, but that was right after.  That, started."
   "You don't want to grow up."
   "No, I mean?  I don't know, it just feels.  Weird I guess.  I just don't
even feel like myself, any more.  And it's scary, how boys look at me, an
all the things the girls say and."
   "Stop." She held my shoulders, "Take a deep breath, and let it out.  You
just about talked yourself into a panic attack, and there's nobody even
here." I looked around.
   Back at her, "You're here," but she doesn't scare me.  Well, maybe a
little, I mean my heart started slowing down, but when I looked back in her
eyes.  It beat deeper.
   "Oh," she pulled out her sketchpad, "That reminds me, I finished it."
Put it over the doodle she was doing in the back of her notebook.  Of a
breast, I'm pretty sure that's what she was drawing, without even thinking
about it.  Okay, my cheeks too, but I can't help think she really likes to
draw big round breasts.  Utterly unlike mine.
   "Wow," I did look pretty.  Except my cheeks.  Or the bone, kind of
looking sideways, so you could barely see one eye, but with my jaw, it was
like you could see my skull through my skin, or the lines where she erased
it.  "Uhlk!" I burped a little.  "Pardon me."
   "You don't like it."
   "No," I shook my head, "I love it, that was just gas." I just felt so
full, and a little sick.  And gaunt.  Except my belly, it stuck out,
sitting down full like that, so I got up.  Felt a bit better.  But the bell
rang, so she stuffed the rest of my sandwitch in the bag.  "No," I stopped
her at the trashcan, and recycling bins.  "I'll finish it later." I guess
my stomach just shrank.  "Uh!"
   "Watch it," I rubbed my shoulder, "Oaf!"
   "Fuck you," look back, "Terry."
   "You wish."
   I made it back to the bathroom, well the sink, at least.  "Hurlk!" Wiped
my mouth, and looked away long enough for it to rinse down the drain. 
Washed my face, and mouth out, and spat.  "Huh!" I did look gaunt, so I
finished my sandwitch on the way to class.  Late.  "Uh!" I hate school.
   But, the next day she wasn't there.  In her seat, I kept looking over at
it, empty, next to me.  I could even use her help, with this poem.  Today's
was olde.  English, with all these thees, and thous, and suchlike.  But,
"Huh!" I just wanted to see her.  Listen to her, watch her eyes read, and
her mouth form the words.
   Her lips, I think I can draw them a little better.  Now, I remember how
they look, every curve by now, it's just translating them to the page.  So,
I tried sketching like her.  Erasing all but the line I wanted, or the
lines.  Had I even ever seen her smile like this, from the side?  I can't
remember if she had.  Where they come together, I flipped over to join them
into a better curve.  I'm going to shade them anyway, especially the top
one, but her eye.  That's the hard part, capturing her's beauty, looking
down, at me.  Sitting, like I did that first lunch, when she drew me.  Only
I'm looking up from the page, at me, the wrong way.
   So, I flip back, and erase the pupil carefully.  The angle is all wrong,
so when I turn them to look at her, I come out all cross-eyed, and staring
at her chest.  Or where it would be, when I draw it.  Instead, I erase her
eye, and her lips, and start over where my picture is looking.  While I'm
at it, I erase the half eye, so I don't look crosseyed.  I don't think
you'd be able to see it at this angle anyway, but then it looks empty, next
to the one with an eye in it.  "Huh!" I wish she was here, to help me.
   I look up, turn my head sideways.  That freshman, or girl I guess. 
Looks a little bit like her, and don't they ride the same bus?  "Hey," I
don't even remember tucking the pencil in the spiral, much less leaving for
lunch.  Alone, it never bothered me before, but she really does look like
Stephany, the closer I get.
   "What?" She's prettyfat.  I mean, she has one of those fsces, I can see
her sisters beauty, even the bones in her cheeks, but a freshman, so too
young?
   "Uh," I look down, "You know Stephani, right?"
   "My sister?" she shrugged, "Or some other Steffanie."
   "Yeah," I guessed, "I'm in her Literature class, so I noticed she's."
   "Sick," she sniffed, "I think she caught my flu, or something." I guess
I forgot other people get sick.
   "Well," I thought, "I got our homework, and assignment here." I dug in
my shoulder-bag.
   "I'll make sure she gets it."
   "No!" I shook my head, "I mean, she helped me with it, the last couple
days.  So, you think I could," can't believe I'm saying this, "Comeover. 
This afternoon?  To study." Or why I miss her so much.  I mean, I just saw
her, yesterday, but when she got on the bus.  Just standing here, with her
sister.  Even though I have to look down, instead of up, she really looks
like her, only younger.
   "Sure," she looked asside, a little uncomfortable too.  "Yewfratt,
right?"
   "Did she talk about me!?"
   "No," she laughed, and pointed.  "It's on your notebook." Didn't even
try Kopexi.  {"Kopechi," it's actually somewhere between Cyrillic and the
Greek Chi.} That I still haven't gotten the assignment out of, just hugged
it to my chest.  Her head tilted, looking up a me.  "Are you her
girlfriend?"
   "Noho!" Not yet.  "Huh!  I'll just meet you at the busses, after
school." But her girlfriend.  Even her little sister knows, or suspects. 
Of course, they're sisters, but she Is gay!  Or, maybe even just gay enough
to love me.
   That would be wonderful!
   Stephanie {ff...G Roma NS}
   "Hey, Steph." she grinned around the door, "Your girlfriend followed me
home."
   "Henn'ie!" My face heated up.
   She giggled, "I'll leave you two alone..."
   "Uh!" But, I did miss her.  All day, and all morning, and last night,
and yesterday afternoon, on the bus.  I never wanted to go to school so
much, but mother wouldn't let me.  "You're sick," she told me.  I know!
   "I brought our homework, and today's poem, and essay assignment."
   "Thanks, Uh!" I coughed, and grabbed the trashcan.  "Don't touch me," I
spat, "I'm sick." Pulled another tissue out to blow my nose.
   "Well," she sat back on Hennessie's bed.  "Okay." Across the room, with
her legs crossed, but close enough.  I could see her, and talk to her, and
listen to her try to recite the poem.
   "Certes," she looked up.  "It means.  Like Surely, I guess." She raised
her eyebrows, and smirked.  "What?" Beautifully, I might add.
   "Don't call me Shirley." She laughed.
   "Okay," I sighed, "Euphrat." Opened my eyes.
   "Oh!"
   "What?"
   "Say it again!"
   "What, Euphrat?"
   She shook her head, "Like you just said it."
   So, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath.  "Euphrat." Hinh!  "What?"
   "Sorry," she blushed, "It's just that, nobody said it right.  Before."
   "Is it Auphrut, or Auphrot?" The a sounds more like an o, or u, or
somewhere between, but not like frout, or fruot.
   "The Eu is almost the same as in Aunt, but most people guess as in
Europe." IDK, Slowak, I guess?  "Either way, I just like how you say it."
And I just wanted to kiss her, but I'd have to get up, and I don't want to
make her sick, and why does my body betray me like this at the worst
possible time?  Uh!
   "Why'd you look so mad?"
   "I don't know," I lied, and looked away.  "I just hate feeling sick."
   "Hey, girls!" Uncle Tom (No relation, he's white) looked in.  Let his
eyebrow down.
   "ToOM!" I sat up, dizzy, but he pulled his head back before the door
slammed on it.  "What?"
   "You call your dad Tom?"
   I shivered, and got back under the overs.  "He's not my Dad!" I tried to
laugh, "Uh!" Coughed.  Even sweating with a fever, my arms don't know
whether they're hot, or cold, but I felt like snuggling into the blanket,
and pillow.  "He just married my Aunt, Sophia." Like, to disappear, if she
can come with me.  So yeah, I knew.  Before that, the other day it occurred
to me, but "Certes, ..." she looked back down.
   Right then I knew I was falling in love with her.  "Oh," she grabbed
another book, "I looked it up."
   Baby names.  "What?"
   "Euphrat," she held it up, and her eyes scanned beautifully.  "Polish,
Slowak, Czech, Serbo-croat, and Finnish.  From Persian for the Euphrates,
it says."
   "Oh," like the Tigris, and Euphrates, I guess.  The rivers around Eden,
I remember from sunday school.  Church, I looked down, blushing.  "Huh!" I
guess they would call these, thoughts, and feelings sinful, but I knew like
the other day.  Or that night, after she started drawing me.  I was so
turning gay for her, and here she is, too sick to touch her, which means
I'd have to stay home, and not see her, and.
   "Girls!" Sounded like her uncle, "Dinner!"
   Chicken and dumplings, but the broth was thick, and creamy like a stew,
and everything was in big chunks instead of cut tiny.  Especially the
chicken.  "Mmmh!" I swallowed, "You're not hungry?"
   She spat in the trashcan again, but just shook her head.  Pulled out
another tissue, and stuffed them down, but it was really full.  "Uh!"
   So, I ate hers too, it was so good!  I took the trashcan down with the
soup plates.
   "Hey," Tom turned around, and leaned up on the sink, drying his hands.
"What's your name again?"
   "Euphrat." I looked away.
   "Well, Auphrott." I rolled my eyes, "Fanny, and Nessy don't usually
bring friends over." He stood up, and I stepped back when he got closer. 
"Especially girls, as pretty as you."
   "ToOM!" I bumped into the corner, but he had this look on his face, and
it made me uncomfortable.
   "Relax," I slapped his hands away, and covered my chest, but he grabbed
my arms.
   "Mmmh!" I tried, but it didn't get far through his mouth, and his breath
stank, and all I wanted to do was scream.  But he let my arms go, and his
hands squeezed my boobs.  Half-backed against the wall, I got my elbow over
he counter, until I felt something.  It felt like a handle, or a jug, but
it was stuck.  Then it twisted free, and he fell down when I hit him over
the head.
   I just looked down, at the pitcher from the blender, right before it
slipped from my shaking fingers, bounced, and shattered on the tile.  Then,
I ran upstairs, crying.  "Hrulkh!" At least I brought the trashcan, so I
could find the bathroom between heaves, but all I could think of was her,
reciting: "His gentle kisses, like..." HUHL!  Her frown.  Big chunks too.
Some felt strung together, and I wish I chewed more.
It took for-Ever!  But finally I got it all out.  Washed my face, my
hands shaking under the water.  Then, I had to wrinse out the trashcan,
gagging, but it wouldn't flush again until the tank filled up, and I was
scared I'd just throw up again, or he'd be waiting for me, just outside the
door, and
   "Euphrat?" She knocked gently, and I relaxed a little.  "Are you all
right?"
   I'm, NOT, "Fine?"
   The knob shook back and forth.  "Come on, open up the door."
   I reached for the lock, my hand shook, but I think most of the terror
was gone.  Then she was inside, the door.  Holding me in the bathroom, and
her arms felt so nice, and her chest so soft on mine, and her neck cradling
my head, and my hair, and I finally could take a breath.  "Huh!"
   "You think you caught my flu?"
   She held me back, by the sides, and I looked up.  She sniffed, and bit
her lip.  "No," I closed my eyes.  "That's not what I caught from you." It
felt sick too, but I didn't want to let her go.  I didn't care, any more.
So, I'd miss school, so she can bring me my assignments, and maybe some of
that chicken stew, and god her lips are so warm and soft and.  "Huh!" I
swallowed.
   I did catch it.  It was so worth it.  "Tom," she frowned.  "Huh!" I
hugged her, and started crying again.
   "I know," she brushed my hair with her hand.  Well, at least the grabby
asshole went to the hospital.  No stitches, but the paramedics said he
might have a concussion.  "Good."
   She told me.  When she was alone with him, he made her kiss him, and
felt her up too.  Or he used to, now he was doing it to Hennessie, and he
tried it on me.
   No, sorry fucker.  That doesn't work for me.  So, he had to move out. 
With his wife, they didn't have kids.  Not yet, I hope Sophia left him,
before they had any daughters.
   Turns out, her aunt Sophie was pregnant, great.  Move in with the older
brother, to have their first kid, and while you're there, random access to
teenage girls!
   I felt sick again all ready.  No wonder she hates men.
   Her mother wouldn't let the cops take me home.  Made sure I was aware
that our family didn't have to hear about what happened.  "I mean, nothing
really happened, he got fresh, and I knocked him the fuck out." Or,
something like that.
   "He's not coming back in my house."
   "Good!"
   "I'm not sure about their father, I'm going to have a talk with him
about it before he comes back." She blinked, "Or when he comes home,
before. I leave him alone with them?" She looked like she might start to
cry?
   "Aunt Sophia?"
   "She's not going anywhere." They're not even related, but, "We're
circling the wagons until I get some answers just as to what the Fuck has
been going on at my house!?"
   "Uh, right here," she pulled over, "Is fine."
   She's pissed!  I laughed, not really all that far from their house.
   I mean, it was 5 rights, the way we came, but she drove out, and
basically all the way around our neighborhoods.  Barely stopped at any
lights, I bet it was less than a block.  It just took me a few hours to
find my way backyards, trails, alleys, and streets.  Mailboxes, driveways,
I could probably draw it from memory if I stopped to instead of getting
back to Her.
   Out late, it's cold, I'm underdressed, but I'm still psyched from all
the action, and if I go home like this, I'll have to talk to mom.  And
then, I have no idea what I'd tell her, but I swear if anyone gets in my
way, they're.  Probably, going to, have some bruises to show for it. 
"Huh," A branch down, over there, somebody's yard, I can break off a
smaller stick.  Get back over the ditch next to the street before I start
pulling off twigs, and dropping them in the grassy trench, it could rain
again for all I know.  A little spongey, but dried, sucked into the roots I
guess.
   "Huh!" Just something to do with my hands, I should've eaten something,
or stopped by the store, or, I don't know, maybe brought my backpack?  Nah,
left it under the eaves, It's heavy anyway, now where?
   His hands on my chest, and his mouth over mine, "Huh?" Fuck, I twist my
head around as much to clear up that it's not being pushed back sideways
against the wall so I can't turn away from him.
   I just cut through some bushes, between that yard and this park, but my
arms and legs are nice and warm holding the stick, and, it doesn't have to
be his hands.  I knew her lips, what they taste like, I expected lipstick,
but they were so red, and, I got through the darkness to the lights around
the basketball courts, and jogged my way over to the tennis-courts.
   "Whew," I guess that's how you hold a rifle, I've seen enough fighting
movies to see how marching soldiers do it, without boobs.  So, I drop the
skinny end, and slide my hand up to walking-stick height.
   Of course, the question I'm avoiding is what do I want to do when I get
there?  With her, Stephany, not Fanny, certainly nothing like what I can
only imagine what he must've done to her.  Pine, bark, but it's green, so
it doesn't just peel off, but I can pick at it around a hollow knot where I
pulled something out.
   Well, what I really want is another round with mister grabby face. 
"Uhn!" It's a tree, it can take it, and the bough in my hand is springy,
with a bit of a curve it bounces back out to.  Like a saber, I guess.  No 2
handed saber I've ever seen, but I'm not an expert on swords or anything.
All the 2 handed ones I know are straight, and 2 edged like a dagger,
except a Katana, and that's not really a saber either.  This is curved
more, and more like a spiral as it gets thinner.
   "WhhHHKT!" I spin out, and swat one of those bushes that looks more like
an ice-cream cone on a stick then a christmas tree.  "Huh!" skipped, and
whirled it back, over to "WHKT!  Whickt!  Whicket!" On the ground to either
side until the tip bounced off.  So, it wasn't as sharp, but it felt
lighter and faster anyway, and stopped hitting on the ground.  WHwhwHWh!
   "Yeah!" whkt!  "Fuck with Me!" I ducked down, that last part echoed back
to me a little, and somedogs started barking.  Oh yeah, dogs.  Don't break
too much off of it.  I like this stick!
   "Shit," the highway.  "Fence," first I heard it, but the headlights told
me I didn't have to climb down, and go around the tiny pond of the
drainege, basin, I guess.  We don't have a creek, just a bunch of ditches,
and pipes, 3 big spirally ones went under the highway, by the light
reflected from the water in the bottoms.
   "Huh!" I turned back, most of the bark loostened up, on what was left of
the end.  So, I pulled the longest piece, and peeled it back like a banana.
As far as it would go.
   ;
   Stephanie {f...f Saph Fant Solo}
   "Hh!" Okay, it didn't Have to be his hands.  She never, well her thumbs
were on top, on my hips, sliding up my sides, but going back before the
ribs.  Deeper than I can reach, and the matress gets in the way, so I keep
feeling up, and giggle a little.
   "Huh!" Hennesie's still asleep.  I think, I'll try to keep it down.  But
she never touched my chest.  Not like his hands, gripping hard, but soft,
gentle, with shorter fingers like mine, only even skinnier.  'hhhhhhhh!"
   "Hm," she rolls over.  Away, I think.  Hard to tell in the dark, or by
the way her shadow moves, silhohetted on the wall like her shadow.  So, I
close my eyes, and bite my lip.  Gently as her hands grip everso slightly
tighter, cupping around so my pinkies, or her thumbs, whatever brush the
silky cups of the nightgown over my instantly stiffening nipples.  "nM!" I
held my breath, breathed a little in my nose, and let out.  "Huhhhhh'...
   And, while I'm painting her, I might as well skip ahead a little.  I can
already see some color coming into her cheeks, which already have some
flesh growing into them, it's not my place, well, my body, but, I have to
say.  Something, before it is a health issue, and I love you, but.  I just
can't wait until we're both healthier.
   And maybe a deeper tan.  In the summer, she's "White," european, but not
like English white, or German white, maybe even closer to Spanish white, if
that's white, and not Latino.  No, LatinA.  Not that I care about white,
but I like the color of her skin, and I'd love to see it darker.  In a
bathing suit, as soon as she has more to fill it out.  But I'd like
breasts, if she doesn't mind.  Mine are okay, but they're not really right
out in front of me where I can appreciate them, and it's awkward in bed so
the matress gets in the way, and my damned thumbs are on the wrong sides.
   But the next time I see her, I'm gonna get her hands on me if I have to
put them there!  Yeah, I should have done that, but my hands were busy
exploring her boney.  Well, back, sides, arms, neck, and most of her upper
skeleton.  Her hips, under her belt, pants, and tucked in shirt.  "Huh,"
and maybe get her naked, so she can model for me, and I can get down her
bone structure while I can still see it!
   So, I got up, took my sketch-pad in the bathroom, and got it while it
was fresh.  I napped all day, there's no way I'm going to school tomorrow,
and if I can't have her here, I can at least get started replacing that
first portrait I drew of her.  Until I can fill in the body, under those
clothes.  Baggy winter clothes, she could be blue under there for all I
know.
   ;
   Take this Longing {Leonard Cohen, New Skin for the Old Ceremony.}
   , , !  "Many men have loved The Bells" , ; , '!  "You fastened to the
rein." Mom's stereo, right on the other side of the wall.
   I can remember her.  Not like a photograph, I guess more of a hologram,
but not a single moment captured, still.  Not alive, either, but all the
times I'd seen her, turn her head, and I have her profile, but she's not
here, with me.
   I can almost see me in her eyes, as if she's right in front of her face.
Instead of the grey shape, looking back from the corner, but just a
decapitated head, and the lines I blended into her throat.  "Huh!"
   "Your beauty lost to you yourself," The phonograph, "Just as it was,
lost to them." on top of her TV.
   She said something very much like that to me, so I sighed, which made me
cough over the rest.  "Huh!" I swallowed it, and touched the tip to the
paper.  A shoulder, glance up at the mirror, sit up more, push the pillows
back in, well my back.  Turned just this way, but with the hair still
spilling over it, so I don't have to erase too much, and the smudge looks
like it's shadow.  I don't remember her ear, at all.
   I have to take out a couple buttons to slip the sleeve down.  Put my leg
up to steady it on there, and try to get the dip behind her collarbone. 
She's right, I don't want to draw her head stuck on a bloody skeleton, but
the crossed lines, I put a little slanting step for her hips, then moved
back up, "Uh!" {0-|-/- like an Orthodox Cross, but probably subconscious.}
   I coughed some more, snorted in snot and swallowed quick before I
coughed again.  "Uh!" Just took off the pajama top, my fever is back, so I
kick off the covers, and;
   "I love to see you naked over there," what is she listening to? 
"Especially from the back."
   "Huh!" pick up the paper.
   "Oh, take this longing from my tongue," I looked over at the mirror,
"All the useless things these hands have done." Biting my lip, back down at
her face, in the paper.  "Untie for me your hired blue gown." Huh!  "Like
you would do, for one that you love."
   The problem is, it's hard to see her bones through clothes, I'm not even
going to try to get all the curves right, but I have bones I can see here,
so I got comfortable, and turned the paper sideways.  So she's laying down,
which makes her hair look weird, "But," Hmm, sketch in a pillow, and, it
kind of looks like, or explains why it hangs over my shoulder, as if it
isn't there.  Pull it out with my fingers.
   So, I just sketch the pillow in higher, so it carries the hair over it,
and add a little dip on the bottom between.  Maybe some stray hairs, mine
fall over, like that.  "Yeah," looking up, and down, just don't draw my pad
on the matress or the sheets, or anything.  I can leave that for later, but
with the covers kicked off, well I can just do the lines for her arms and
legs, so no need to take off the bottoms, but my sweating feet feel nice
and cool.
   "Let me see your beauty broken down." Still not as beautiful, "Like you
would do," as her, "For one you love..."
   But I can see it now.  I like the bangs, too.
   ;
   {Prop Note, Vinyl copy of The Best of: Leonard Cohen.  The one with him
standing in the black winter coat that makes him "Like a spider," according
to the liner notes.  Also, she skips a verse in there, drawing longer than
it took to write in words.}
   "Euphrat?" {ff NS ED.}
   "Yes?"
   "Are you Bulemic?"
   "What's that?" She just held me, in her arms.
   "Well, you throw up a lot, and I couldn't help noticing, it's usually
right after binge eating."
   "Uh!" I rolled my eyes, away.  "I just got over the flu, and." Just
talking about it makes me nautious.  "I just.  Hh!  I don't know, sometimes
it's hard to keep" it all, "down."
   "Yeah, but I had the same flu, and didn't even want to throw up.  So,"
she held my face, "You don't do it on purpose, or make yourself.  Throw
up?"
   I gagged a little, but nothing came up.  "No," I shook my head, "I don't
even like it, it sucks but like I said, I can't always keep it down."
   "Then why do you binge-eat?"
   "I don't," I shrug, "I mean yeah, I have been eating more, I just don't.
You know, I don't want to be, so gaunt any more." For you!  She gave me a
booklet, or a pamphlet I guess.  It's more like a sheet of paper, but
folded in thirds with all this stuff about eating disorders.
   [Is my Daughter Anorexic, or Bulimic?]
   I looked down the billeted list.
   "Huh!" I nodded.  "Maybe I should talk to my doctor about it."
   "Good," she hugged me, "Because I worry about you." Then kissed me, and
petted my hair.  Yeah, I got down to the possible health concerns, and
side-effects.  I rubbed the inside of my teeth with my tongue.  They didn't
feel, well I don't know what that feels like, but I suppose they would be
pitted, or something, right?  I only really started throwing up so much
last week.  "I care about you, you know that right?"
   "Yeah," I waited, until she looked up.  Stared into her eyes, and took a
deep breath.  "I love you." She smiled.
   "Yeah," she just barely kissed me, "You too." Then she kissed me more.
   "Especially how smart you are," I wiped my mouth.  "I mean, you read a
lot," and I just love to watch her read, "But, it's not like I know, anyone
else who would have caught it.  Before I started turning Bulemic." The
first step.  Yeah, now I know I have a problem.
   And knowing is half the battle.
   "Well," she smiled, "Stop that." Gently, even lovingly.  Then, she
kissed my head.  "You ever seen Titanic?"
   I shook my head.
   Stephe' {ff Roma Cons}
   After what happened last time, I took her bus to her home, and met her
family.  Only child, single mother, thick accent, and.  To be fair, she's
older, had 2 children, and grew up in central Europe.  I looked it up, says
Eastern, but really more central on the map.  Back when it was
Czechoslovvakia, before the war, she fled to America.
   Met a nice man, "Grew apart," but he took his son, it was a "Bloody good
arrangement." Met in England, incidentally.  Liverpool, I believe.  So, I
don't want to say it, but "I lowe my dother." Didn't have her teeth in,
yet. Just a plate of the incisors, and a canine on top, patting her hair,
Anchor babies.  But, as she said, he got a son out of the deal.
   Very possessive, and "Conservative." Her daughter told me, Orthodox,
they do the rite in Greek, but Russian orthodox, about unorthodox
lifestyles, like say sexuality.  When we get that far, God I hope she's
ready to go that far.  Soon, but I really want to.  More than I want to
wait for a healthy weight.  Not judging, just a little more flesh, and a
lot less bone.  Proportionately.
   Hell, she said "Feed a flu, and starve a cold" herself.  I have thank
her for what little more she had to love from that.  But, that means shit
work, in a dry cleaners, and a filthy little apartment.  Share a bath, and
well at least she has her own room.  "I'm helping her with her math," and
I'm helping her with everything else, but she needs it more, and I can't
really talk about what she's really helping me with, because where she's
from, there might be pitchforks and torches, if not shotguns, or AKs
involved.
   "And Art!" Gently, petting my bare cheek.  In her room, "Studying,"
which is to say letting her draw me.  From the side, looking over at her
portrait.
   "Hh, I." Turn to see her biting her lip, "Well how'd I do?" She didn't
pop it out, which I hope I never get sick of, but she doesn't do it often.
I just adore it when she does.
   "Not bad," learning shadow, the trick I showed her of just drawing the
outline, and evoking the contours with shading is really starting to pay
off, and the expression on my face.  'huH!" I covered my mouth, "My eye!"
   "Yeah," she turned her head around to see.  "I think I did pretty good."
   "It looks like, love?" Now that I know what it looked like.
   "Well, yeah," she didn't let me see it before, "You were drawing me."
She tapped the finished portrait.  I blinked.  She nodded, "I remembered."
Wow, I'm not used to seeing myself in profile, but I had to wonder, at how
she, just.
   "How do you draw love in someone's eye?" That's My eye!  I mean, "I
think you're incredibly talented." Blink again, "No really, wow.  You've
really been drawing," what, "4-5 days?"
   "Well, I draw before, you just shoved me how to do your face."
   "Wow!" I handed over my copy.  Blank on her side, and for some reason I
reversed the image.  So, she was turned left, and even more in profile. 
So, I only had to draw her one eye, but.  "Huh!"
   "Can you turn," she twisted her head, "Yeah." So, I stopped, and she
tapped the tip of the pencil on her tongue.  I'd rather write the thousand
words, but I ment it when I said it.  She truly must have some real talent,
if she can draw my eye better, in less than a week of trying.  It was
almost hollow, and polished by successive erasing, and applications of
graphite.
   I turned my head, and the eye seemed to follow me.  The lid actually
glittered a little, picking up the shine from the light.  She rubbed down a
fine line, looked at a tip, scraped it on her tooth, and checked it before
drying it on her sleeve like a paintbrush.  She made a face.
   "Oh," I went back to the pose, but smiled more.  As little as I could
when I wanted to giggle, a little.
   "Huh," She glanced back up, "You," back down, "I think next time, well
we should try, drawing ourselves instead." Of eachother.
   "Okay," I nodded, then went back to the pose, but the mirror over her
desk/dresser helped, like a monitor.  "Uh, why?"
   "Well, just looking how you draw me.  This is beautiful, by the way,
but." hers just had my head and hair.  A pillow, and the top of the
blanket, but just erased reference lines with no body.  Most of the
skeleton, though.  Well over half, the close side, left I guess, but her
right leg over, bent so only my toes were clipped by the bottom of the
page. "I don't think you see me the way I do."
   "How's that?"
   She flipped the page up, over the spiral, and dropped it so I could see.
She must have stood in front of the mirror.  Stark naked.  In pencil
shading, the outline done over in black ballpoint, darker then I drew her,
for more detail.  "Huh!" I giggled, "Yeah, I'll need that page when you're
done with it." Even up-side down, as if leaning up in the top corner of the
page.  I felt a little jealous.  "Naked."
   She looked up.  Nodded, "Your self portrait?" I nodded back, "I want to
see you, how you see you, before I form my own opinion."
   "Why?"
   "To try it?  Then I can see you nude, all the time." She didn't blush,
her face flushed.  If you want to know the difference, the latter takes
longer.  "I hope." She grinned back down at the paper.
   And, "You know?" didn't even look up, "I don't even, well I already
decided not to look before it's done." She hummed to herself.  "What's
that?" I don't recognize that.  "Song?"
   "Leonard Cohen:" She closed her eyes, but I could see them roll up,
inside.  "Take this longing from my tongue.  And all the useless things
these hands have done." She dropped them back beside her.  "Let me see your
beauty broken down."
   "Huh!" she tucked the pencil in the side of the spiral, so I relaxed.
   Her eyes looked down from my glance.
   .  .
   "Like you would do,"
   .  .
   "For the one you love." She picked the pad back up, and my lip started
hurting.  She looked up, to the side.  "There," thumb up, she pulled out
the pencil.
   Steph/rat {FM Stor Mnem.  2ndP, meaning 2econdPerson omniscient. 
Sorry?}
   "My mom got lonely, while I was sick.  Pulled out her favorite record,
dropped the needle.  The best of Leonard Cohen, their favorite album."
   "What's she like?" I mean, I met her, but.
   "Hard to explain?" Shake no.  "Uh, well they met, my father's British,
Glendenning, Scotts/Irish too, 'praper Inglish!'." Even did the accent at
the end.
   "Why she says 'Bloody,' and 'Bleeding' alot," I guessed.
   Nod, "He's dual citizen, now he's moved back, but she.  She drove him
off, I don't know our family councilor says maybe she can't live with men,
there's this pheromone thing I don't understand but she's sensitive to
them, and has flashbacks.  To the war, Bloody Rushik," how she says it,
"She's a refugee, and I hear the war was pretty bad.  What she says about
it is incomprehensible, cursing in their language, praying in Greek, and
weeping in Slowak, so.  She doesn't go out much, and I take care of her a
lot when she gets in one of her spells."
   "Like last night?"
   "Oh no, that was.  Well she's been better, but she can get a lot worse."
   "She forgot dinner," we had to scavenge.
   "I forgot, huh!  Her hours, you understand."
   "So, you're neglected, and have to be the mom at random times when she
goes nuts?"
   "She doesn't go Nuts!"
   "Sorry," Hold her, "I'm so sorry."
   "She just gets down, and doesn't wanna come out, or talk to anybody. 
And paranoid, she gets real paranoid."
   "About the Rush, uh."
   "Russians," nod.
   "And me, and the mailman, and anyone else she has to see, or interact
with."
   "Oh!" duh?  "That's why your brother went with him.  Your dad?  The
whole sweat sensitivity thing." Mhm?  "Nevermind, go on?"
   "Well, I guess I can get a summer job next year, take Drivers Ed this
semester."
   "Great!"
   "And I don't know how much longer," she covered her mouth, 'I can keep
her out of a home.' whispered through her cupped fingers.
   'is that bad?'
   'she's Terrified of it." She sat back.  "And I've heard, awefull stories
about them them."
   "Well, yeah." Probably with a paranoid schizo/bipolar mom, she doesn't
know the diagnosis, but she'll only go to court ordered family counciling
to stay out of jail, or possibly not be deported, losing the last of her
family, so.  "I understand."
   "Okay." She doesn't have any accent, though.  I don't know, but I can't
hear one, unless she says Bleeding, or Bloody, like her mom.
   "She doesn't hurt you?"
   "No."
   "Not any more?" She looked up, guilty?
   "Huh!  She can't any more." She fights back.  "She mostly hit my
brother, Niko anyway."
   Steffanie {f_f Saph Arts, NS}
   "Huh!" look over at her note book, she looks over at mine.  [No,] look
up at the teacher, [not so dark, White.] Overshaded, [On the bottom,] she
carefully blended it in.  To the spiraling undercurve of the horn to the
tip, curling back up around her ear, a snailshell stud in the lobe to a
thick root over her brow.  Smile, self-conscious when she looks up at my
mouth.
   "Now," she shuts the sketchbook but the teacher turns back to the chalk
tray at the bottom of the board.  "Wuh wah wuhwhu, wuwuh, wuwuh."
   I looked down, tightened my eyebrows, and peeked over, in the corner of
my eye.  She looked fierce!  I nodded, excited.  [It's like I see myself,
inside.]
   Off to the side, she wrote: [Aren't Rams boys?] And rubbed it out.
   [I like the @ shape,] I doodled it roughly.
   She nodded, [Angle the snout up a little,] she flipped the pencil,
[Don't worry, ]
   "Ahem," we looked up, I moved my hand to the other page.]
   [ [ {Notes.} ] "This is important." [__________]
   "Hh!" I glanced over, waved my hand, and she covered it up.
   [Huuuuge!] she giggled.
   "Girls?" she looked back, "Pay attention."
   "Right." she said "Right!" at the same time!
   "Sorry, Mrs;"
   "ShhsH!" Ooh, the finger!  When I looked back, she erased the giant
boob, or the circle where one would be.
   "Nkh!" I stifled a laugh, but she kept writing, turned back to look at
the textbook, and pushed her glasses back down.
   "Bless you," she giggled again.  [Yiphi?] well, I realized I never
spelled it for her.
   [Very Yiffy!  It's actually supposed to be what arctic foxes say.]
   [What's it mean?]
   [Idano, Hoopy, Grokky, uh.] ?  ?  ?  [..know/Love/appreciate I'll try
and explain it later.]
   ;
   "Oaf," {fm NS Bull.  ff Hero.  In case you didn't get that, it's short
for Heroine.}
   "Where's your girlfriend?"
   "Where's yours?" I turned back, but he didn't back up.  Put his hands
up, so I grabbed them, held them around my chest, stepped in to break his
nose, and follow through with a knee up between his legs.  "Stay away from
her." I pushed him back, and he fell down.  "Oh," I put my hand up over my
eyes, "There she is," and jogged across the track.
   "Are you okay?"
   "Yeah," I shrugged, "Fine?" Happy to see her!
   "But your bloody," she touched my forehead.
   "Oh," I looked back, "It's his." Pointed.  Everyone saw it!
   "Breakfast?"
   "Yeah!" She was rather hungry, too!  I shrugged, going to be a long time
before I worry about her weight.  Seeing her mom, that skinny.  No thanks,
and I bet they're saggy.  Still sagging but strapped into that blunderbuss
that had to be an underwire.  If not whale-bone, stop some time before
that, but she enjoys watching me grow.
   Hand in hand, we laced our fingers together, like we both do now, when
we sleep at night.  Apart, there's nowhere for us together, but spring has
to come some time.  And we're young, so no hurry.
   "Mwalm!" Did we even make it out of sight?
   "What was that for?"
   "You're right," she ran her hands down my arms, "He's a total jerk!"
   Oh!
   So, that's what they feel like?
   "Uh huh?"
   Okay, yes, very nice.  Bra, I guessed, thought they'd be heavier.  Well,
weigh them in my hands, and not even going to estimate in grams, or pounds,
but about enough.  Because she's right, I'm going to grow them, so at some
point I have to decide I've grown enough.
   "Hey." Terry, I do believe I stood at Attention, or tried too.  "Sorry,
you two want to be alone?"
   "Terry!"
   "No," he waved his hand, palm down, at arm's length.  "It's cool." He
blushed, "I'm gay too." Wandered off.
   "Oh."
   "You want to walk home?" bend to take her hand.
   "It's a long walk."
   "Yeah," I know.
   "I think I have a water-bottle." She looked up, "For your head."
{Soundtrack: John Prine - Donald and Lydia (Eponymus Album)
   ; }
   Terry (mG Corp Pheb)
   So, I read her notes.  Or their, I suppose they don't hide it too well,
but I just said I was gay so there would be no sexual tension.  Honestly, I
would rather they think that, when.  Well, a guy has to keep up
appearences, you have no idea what it's like in the locker room.  Of
course, girls can be cruel too, but the cruel boys are also Violent.
   So, you do what you have to to survive, and she's a freshman.  I used to
call Fanny "fatty" in middle school, when I was still confused by all these
hormones, and feelings for girls instead of gradeshool worries about
cooties and then there's my brother.  He's not, we'll he doesn't mean to be
mean, but when his friends are around.
   As bad as it is to be one of the boys, you have to understand the
pressure on the Alpha.  Especially when any sign of weakness is so visible
to those who want the top spot, they judge me, or use me to judge them. 
That's the real tragedy of errors for boys, we have to hide our feelings,
while girls can snipe, and back stab openly.  Because they don't get their
asses kicked when they don't.
   So, I had a talk with Sarah.  "I thought that was a myth," without her
girlfriend there.  "Boys picking on the girls they like."
   "Oh," I shook my head, "Not you," any more, "Since you lost all that
weight.  And besides, you have a girlfriend!"
   "I know," she laughed, "right!?" As surprised as anyone.
   "I'm not surprised.  I mean, I guess I always knew, or I noticed how
butch you are."
   She didn't hit my arm, "How so?"
   "Well," I thought, "you know, you've always been so, bossy?" Then she
hit me, "Ow, what!?"
   "Just because I don't conform to your chauvinistic gender roles, that's
how you fight back against feminism.  You're taught to call us Bossy,
instead of Fatty when we don't live up to your unrealistic body standards."
   "Sorry!" I rubbed my chest, and glanced down at where she put my hands
when she head butted me.  "Sorry!"
   "Good," she relaxed her fist, "You should be, but if not me, than whom?"
   "Sorry?"
   "And stop appologising, but you said that I wasn't the one you has a
crush on?"
   "Well," I braced myself, "That's why I had to ask you."
   "Someone I know?"
   Hard enough to even think about talking to her.  "Well you know
everyone, but I mean." Huh, she's scary!  "I was just wondering, if you
thought, if she's not too young..."
   "Hennesie!?" She didn't hit me, her jaw dropped.
   "Well, we don't get teased as much as the fat girl for going out with
them as given a swirly." That's washing our hair, in a toilet, after using
it first.  "But I couldn't help but notice she's growing out," and not too
scary.
   "She doesn't even have a training bra, yet."
   "I'm sorry."
   "Huh!" She nodded, "Yeah." Which?  "She's had such a crush on you for a
couple years, actually." She rubbed her chin, "but if you're going to court
my little sister, you'll have to do it right."
   "Sarah" {fG...  m.  Roma Sedu}
   "Headslap." First you say it then you do it!  (~B.  Cosby, "Himself")
   I read somewhere that constantly apollogizing is a sign of emotional
abuse.  He's just always been so confident and jerky, I never thought about
why.  Known him for years, same schools, but the first time we shared a
class.
   And I like Windmills.  "Huh!" Facepalm.
   Well, if I'm going to do Romance, I might as well do the classics.  Wish
I'd remembered that when I had him to talk to, but make a note to [Look
into Terences' family]
   ;
   {For context, this is an anonymous fictionalization of their romance, up
to the overlapping points where they become physically intimate.  Written
together, swapping characters back and forth to Share the fantasy.  The
first steps in a mutually manipulative mind-hack, in Analog.  Mostly
through LARPing, and written fantasies, with some dice thrown in for random
generation.  Mostly D-2s, and Rochambeau at that.}
  
Sapphos