. . these kids come from good homes, rich homes, most of them . . . but they’re still fucked up. I feel like I’m their mother half the time. Or, n...t even their mother. More like a sex counselor.’ ‘What do you mean?’ Angie fell back in her seat, cradling the beer bottle against her chest. She had opened her jacket, since the heat was running in the van, revealing a baby blue blouse underneath. I noticed that her breasts had gained a cup size. They were no longer the perky little buds on her. I managed to cook up some oatmeal and made a pot of boiled coffee that turned out surprisingly good. I guess I was learning.This time when Rhonda came, she shouted "Hello the house!" as she approached, probably to give me time to put something on if I wasn't dressed yet. I opened the door and waved her in.I poured her a cup of coffee as she stepped through the door. "Thanks for coming by. I'm definitely in need of another application of that cream, but the last application and the Tylenol. More

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