The cheerleaders had their own clique that provided her with the support and fed her insecurities. They were the blue collar girls, not destined for...college like the lacrosse ones. They were the ones who dated the guys in shop, the boys who lived down in Kennedy Park, the lair of the bad boys of Portland. Those same boys who would continue to live in Kennedy Park for the rest of their lives, unless a stint in jail removed them from the environment. Those first few days were rough. . My free hand reached under my shirt to grip a nipple. My juices were flowing thicker and sooner than ever before. I was moments from ecstasy. Snap! “Do you need help, dear? I heard you crying,” came the worried voice of someone's mother. “Mmmo!” I finished chewing the mouthful of pickle I'd bitten off in surprise. “No Mrs. Davidson. I just really like these pickles.” She raised an eyebrow at me and gave a polite laugh before returning to the group. I don't know if she knew what I had been. More

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