The Boy Who Groped Me and the Flute Case That Saved Me
“There was no doubt in my mind that he was working up his nerve to do something unwelcome.”
I went to a junior high school named after a famous Western explorer—John C. Fremont—but for some reason our mascot was a lancer: a knight bent low on his horse holding out a spear, intent on either attack or self-defense. I never questioned the incongruity at the time, but now it seems to fit Las Vegas. Nothing quite matches up there. In a desert with a scarce supply of water, pools and fountains abound. Under a bright sun, neon lights shine all day long. The daughters of showgirls go to school with the daughters of Mormon missionaries.
Heather Skyler, born and raised in Las Vegas, Nevada, is the author of the novels Vegas Girls and The Perfect Age. She has written pieces for The New York Times, Newsweek, GOOD magazine, and other publications. Currently, she works as the editor for OC Family magazine and as a syndicated columnist for the OC Register. She lives in Long Beach, California, with her husband, son, daughter and Chihuahua, Eileen.
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“In the beauty parlor, I watch my ringlets collect like dark, bushy tumbleweeds on the checkered floor.”
On the day when two pink lines stared up at me, I wondered which set of events I had set in motion. A baby? Or not a baby?
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