He was instantly in the “popular” crowd and was out with his new friends. My mother, Anna, came home from work at about seven. “What's wrong Ch...ck?” With a fountain of tears cascading down my face I screamed “Why did you let me go to school dressed like that?! You're from the city! You know how people dress here. Everyone made fun of me! I wish I were fucking dead!” Her eyes began to tear with sympathy. “You never seemed to care about.... I didn't think it would matter that.... I'm so sorry. “In fact, I think I hate you for looking as good as you do. If I were you, I’d go walk on those heels so you don’t fall flat on your face. And maybe practice bending over while you’re at it.”“So our little practice session last night and now your comment about bending over, this sounds more like something I should expect and not ‘you never know’. What gives?” I asked.“OK. So I’m kind of seeing this guy from the house we’re going to for the party. And maybe it kind of came up that his friend is. More

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