Then she asked us our grade in school and we told her that in the fall we would be in the eighth grade. She asked us what our parents did for a living...and why we were running around without a chaperon. We told her that our parents trusted us, not alone, but when we were together they felt more comfortable about us. She liked that.After about an hour of talking she decided that she could share her secret with us as long as we swore never to tell another living soul. We sore on our life, crossed. One additional stroke for trying to stop me. So, three more strokes and I think one of those should be the crop itself. What do you think?” I wanted to know just what that would feel like and I didn’t want to appear a wimp. “Whatever you like,” I said with more bravado than I felt. Alison took up her place again and repeated the backhand stroke with the leather tongue on the underside of the helmet. The combination of pain and excitement was excruciating. Swish again... but with less swing. More

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