“How much son.”The pimple faced teen had to close his mouth to answer me. “Uh… thirty four, sixty eight.” He managed to blurb out before he ...rooled on the front of his shirt. I turned around, and all four girls had dropped their towels and were modeling their bikinis for the pizza guy. I handed him a fifty-dollar bill, and looked at him in mock disgust. “Night son.” I said sarcastically. Then shut the door a little harder than usual. This was met by, darns and shoots and a few he was cutes and. You chose to wearthe boy's clothes... And what does that mean, Lee?" No! No... Please... No more..." What does it mean, Lee?" More... You're going to... to hit me more..." That's right, Lee. I'm sorry, I don't want to do this, you've alreadylearned your lesson, but this is what you chose."He lay on the floor, a small ball of agony, trying to hold all theparts of him that hurt, and sobbing to himself. His stepmother, just afew feet away, was watching a quiz show, the sound turned up high todrown. More

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