14. Smooth Operator

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      I don't know why I was so nervous to go to Kiwi's house. I guess it's always different being with someone in their own house, in their own element, where they can do and act however they want. I'd been alone with him in the art room and in the hallway but never in a bedroom. It's not that I thought he would do anything to me; I knew he didn't like me that way. I just couldn't put my finger on it.

    My social anxiety wasn't as bad as some people's but it was bad enough to be detrimental at times. I was always nervous to be around people I didn't know well because I was afraid I'd have nothing to talk about or I wouldn't know what to say in a conversation. I'm not good with small talk. I can maybe stand medium talk, but I'd rather discuss the meaning of life or Bigfoot's whereabouts than the weather; and please, dear God, don't tell me how your family's doing. It just takes more energy out of me and I get awkward because I honest-to-goodness don't care about what you're saying and I have to rack my brain for a response, when all I'd like to do is shank you. Even with my own family sometimes, I want to jump out a window when they ask me how I am and what was new? Um, I don't know...I've managed to keep myself alive another day? What more do you want from me?
I'd downed three glasses of wine before pulling up at Kiwi's, so I was feeling sociable enough to get by. I told you Patti and Daddy Dan don't drink, so when their friends would bring over wine, they'd just put it in the wine cellar room and forget about it; they never noticed any was missing.

          My mom insisted on driving me to his house, seeing as he didn't live in the best neighborhood

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My mom insisted on driving me to his house, seeing as he didn't live in the best neighborhood. He lived a block from school, which was on the outskirts of the downtown metropolitan area. Not all of downtown was bad but you had to pass through the bad part to get to the nice part. It was the only Catholic high school around, so no one had a choice. She drilled me on the rules of what I could and could not do, as she drove. They were mostly could-nots.    1. No going outside.                                                            2. No going outside alone, if I disobey number 1.   
3. No wandering around outside alone, if I disobey number 1 and 2.                                                       
4. Don't talk to anyone I see outside.                              5. Run the other way if I see anyone looking in my general direction because they are evaluating my worth on the sex trade market and will kidnap me; so at least get a head start.


   Kiwi was waiting for me on the front porch, when we pulled up. Mom had called him and told him to be waiting for me, so I wouldn't have to walk inside by myself and get stabbed and/or mugged and/or both. I bolted out of the car and up the lawn steps, making my way up the porch and grabbing the door knob; totally disregarding that this wasn't my house and letting myself in.

                                     

                                     

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