"Can I come in?" I asked in a rich, feminine voice. "I've lockedmyself out of my room and I could do with some help." The door opened wider to reveal ... blond, fairly athletically-built boy in his late teens or early twenties. His eyes nearly poppedout of his head when he saw that I had absolutely nothing covering mysmooth, brown skin. It took nearly all of my self-control to stop myselffrom jumping on him there and then. "Can I come in?" I asked again, trying to keep the desire out ofmy. But, do it again,and it will be assault."I turned away from the punk, but I wanted to spit on him. He had broughtout the side of me that I saw sometimes when I couldn't try to be who Iwas. I knew I had a temper, and had bad mood swings. As I walked by theprincipal, I told him, "Don't worry, you don't have to tell me. I willbring this up with the therapist. I admit I'm worried about it too."He told me to go home today, and I did. When I got there, there was amessage on the machine from my. More

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