No meeting, no practice, and it killed me.As I rounded a curve in the long track winding around the football field, I felt a presence coming up on my ...ight. I was a strong runner, so there was only one other person who could get close to me: Gloria Middleton.Gloria was part of the reason I dreaded those stupid Christian meetings. She was a devout Catholic who had attended the same church as me and made my life hell for as long as I could remember. She had long dirty blonde hair that nearly hung. Even in the feyer parts of Cambridge, boys did not wear togas unless it was a toga party, and they weren’t suitable for nine-year-olds, at least the toga he was wearing wasn’t. I did, I admit, begin to wonder; but I put the idea aside as it suggested I was far to big headed to think I’d ... no, of course not.I walked down the hill into a valley, fruit trees grew in fields, people working in the fields worked with no machinery. Perhaps it was an organic farm? Round the corner and still nothing. More

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