He was one of the few black kids in my school. He enjoyed talking to me, but we didn't really have any type of connection. I was nice to him and he wa... nice to me and basically everyone. George constantly joined his friend’s rants when it came to the girls in my class. I honestly didn't care. My mother pulled me out of that school and I was home schooled. I hated it even more. That was when my parents decided to split and I chose to go with my mom, but had to spend weekends with my dad. Once,. Otherwise, she was keenly going through the diary her husband had left and discovered by me in the beside table drawer.The doctor had arrived first, a bone-thin, ancient medical man, who was probably more than half again as old as I was, carrying by evident way of need, a silver headed walking stick. He had such trouble putting a couple of stitches into my wound on my chin with his shaky hands.So much so, that Mary took over saying, with her tongue in cheek, that she’d sewn up wounds on scores. More

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