For at least half my childhood I never said a word. I didn't need to. I had the expression on my face and smart people around me to understand them. My family was super prim and proper. So, a daughter that didn't give lip was okay with them. Possibly, I could have spent more of my time talking...if it hadn't been for books.

My innocent blue eyes were always deep within pages of a novel, no matter what genre. One that happened to appeal to me the most was adventure. Mainly told by the opposite gender (boys). The reason for the boys narrating thing was because…I wanted to know how boys viewed the world. Why did they crack stupid jokes that had no meaning for them? Why did they seem to act as babies compared to girls? And why were some of the breath-taking to look at? Well, that last one never got answered. I narrowed it down to girls mature faster than boys. But that's not the truth. Guys are the same as girls. They have wants, hopes, fears, and…yeah.

Until I was thirteen, my hair was kept up in ribbons, I wore skirts and dresses with frills, my imagination never left my mind, and I never had a guy friend.

Sometimes I would go into my back yard that over viewed a park and sit down on the grass. It was in very often to see down the hill, at the park, boys would be playing baseball. I watched their games and saw how they interacted. Nothing exciting like in the novels I read, but they were funny. Well, does it sound like I was stalking? Hope not. But every time before they played a game, they'd wave at me. They must have thought, she's just a girl now we have an audience. What harm could she do? But this story revolves around how those boys harmed the course of my life.

It was the first day of the summer 1960. I was doing my usual; waiting for the guys to arrive, reading a book. They'd normally be there by then. When my mom shouted

"Fawn Veronica! Some boys are here to see you!" I could just hear the intensity in her voice. That's where my story begins…