" My heart was racing as I said this, but I did not take my eyes from his."Better still! But don't hide behind everyone else. Tell me, what this sexy,...married, white woman needs." A stereotype. I need a stereotype." I whispered. He met my overtly racist comment with a smile."You're in luck. Now finish your drink." As we rotated back towards the bar, he pulled his stool closer to mine, and directed my hand into his lap."You're going to remember this stereotype." And he might be right. My hand. "Our son is getting bullied, and what does he say? 'Just go talk to him yourself, I have to finish this report for work.', what father says that?!? God... Sometimes I wish I never married him..." I say to myself, angry at my husband for not coming with me.Most of all, I'm angry at the punk that's bullying my son. Almost everyday, he comes home in a bad mood or beat up, and the school doesn't do shit about it! I thought my husband and I could talk some sense into this little shit, but apparently. More

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