His thinning hair is heavy with oil and is combed carelessly over to one side. Some of the longer strands seem to defy gravity as they flop about rand...mly over his forehead. He looks up at me from his desk as if he senses that I’ve been observing him from the back of the room. He performs an animated shrugging gesture and looks back down at his book. I knew why I was here but what the hell was his crime, I wonder. Mr. Tracey was my history teacher and was well known throughout the school for. Ofcourse not. All she saw me as was just as someone to do her homework andher chores. As someone beneath her.I stormed into my bedroom and slammed the door, screaming into mypillow.Finally I sat up, took off my shirt and bra, and then gathered up all ofthe lingerie in my drawers and took them downstairs."I don't want to wear panties or bras anymore," I said, dumping them onthe table. At that point I didn't care."Honey, I know this is difficult for you..." she started."I DON'T WANT TO WEAR THEM. More

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