If you haven't read part 3, do so here. Or you can start from the beginning.
On Thursday I’m sore. Mr. Hale occasionally decides to share, telling me that I’m a paragon, that I give men a pinnacle at which to aspire when they train subs of their own. It’s also a punishment for wanting to spent time with anyone but him. I know I’m walking stiffly and am embarrassed every time someone looks at me twice. Brandon told me yesterday to meet him at the park, and I arrive early, nervous.
I’m too old for this, I think. To old, at least, to be playing Ultimate Frisbee for the first time.
Brandon sees me before I notice him. “Hey, Tucker!” he calls from the field. “Glad you could make it!”
I smile nervously; I haven’t been around this many people my age in years, and I am unsure of how to appear normal.
Read the rest on https://reamstories.com/acerbicscribbler
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