"What happened here?" She traced her fingers across the still inflamed red scar near my right shoulder. "That's where the bullet hit me." "Where did...it go?" "It went through, coming out my back." Crystal stepped behind me to examine the larger scar on my back. "Hmmm... you are quite brave, Michael. Now get your shoes off." In short order, I did. She then put her hands on my shoulders and dragged her fingernails down my chest. My breathing quickened as her bright red nails descended past. Just to fill the silence, I said, "I made first in my class this semester." Oh, Kid, that is so good," she said. Her feet were bare, one crossed over the other. She wore bell-bottomed jeans that hung low on her hips and a black, long-sleeved leotard top with a low scoop neck, the kind ballet students wear to rehearsal. It molded itself to her breasts and tummy and the inward curve of her waist. Her hair was sandy brown, cut short, with a sweep across her forehead.This was the Chosen One.Risa. More

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