No, Mitch wasn’t a ninth-grader himself that year. He was teaching the freshmen. It had been one of his first years of teaching. Mitch was twenty-th...ee at the time. He remembered her quite well. She had been a cheerleader and very smart. Mitch had talked to her quite regularly in class. It seemed like so long ago. Now, he was thirty… and she was—Mitch quickly tried to do the math in his head—twenty-one? He guessed.And so, the summer commenced. Tori jogging… Mitch watching. He quickly figured. Predictably, it rose to the occasion, and I must have tried to remove her hand. I remember her words distinctly, "Stop being a spoilsport."I gave in, of course, and she carried on just squeezing, and rubbing very gently.At first, I just began to enjoy it, listening to the banter from the others, and even joining in. They were totally unaware of what was happening behind them.Rachel was chatting too, and I was unconcerned for quite a while. But then, suddenly, her fingers must have triggered. More

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