Denise was walking in the same direction. We share a class as well as home room.“You’re walkin’ fast,” she said.“Gotta meet Bob at the 7-11....��“Thought you said you were goin’ away for the weekend. Houston, Galveston...”“Yep. He’s my ride.”“Uh, Carlie, this ain’t one of those THINGS, is it? I mean, you ... we talked a little bit.”“No, this isn’t one of those things, ‘Neesie. He’s a nice guy, is all.”“Well, be careful, Carlie. You’re a good friend.”“Thank you, Neesie. You’re a good friend, too.”As. She even took it upon herself to make physical contact with me, fixing my hair, doing up my shirt button, straightening my look. Now then, I was not then, nor am I now, some kind of psyche major. I don’t possess more than a lingering interest in body language, social sciences or the like. But you’d have to be quite asleep to miss the signs she was sending me, even if she was doing so (possibly) unconsciously. That was the point at which it all sank in, deep and slow and visceral. She would be,. More

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