Had there been a test of any kind that day, he would surely have blown it. He had barely reached the school grounds when he heard one kid angrily call...another a 'motherfucker.' That jolted him to his soul. Is that what he had become?Instead of listening in class, he constantly replayed the previous night. Strangely, he did not spend the day with a hardon. He was not bombarded by images of his mother's body, but of her face, her eyes, her tears of joy. He believed he had made her happy, and it. ”Letting go of my hand she tried it herself. “Does it matter if I can only do it left-handed?”“Not a bit. Or you can kinda get the idea across with just an arm movement, no fingers necessary.” I demonstrated.She tried it. Even with her bookbag hooked at her elbow it sorta worked.“So this cheerleading. How do you learn to fly? It sounds exciting. Do you flap your arms or something?”I reclaimed her hand. “There’s no actual flying. It’s more controlling the falling. We practiced lifts today,. More

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