This was never going to work, I told myself. I held my thighs tighttogether as I waddled back out into the room. I am doomed, I told myself.But Sharon...just bent down and looked at me closely. "These marks arealready livid. They are going to hurt like hell tomorrow, honey. Are theyhurting now?"Now that I thought about it, they were. A deep aching pressure downthere, like a toothache. "Yes, but I'll be all right. I just want to gohome please." Just a little bit more." She moved around from one. I'd had another – um – discussion about my "Journal." I was very stubborn: if it was my journal, then it was my journal. There might be spelling errors to be corrected (there weren't), but otherwise it was mine. And I was still reading the Keneally, and getting ever more irritated by the behavio(u)r of the authoritative British. [That "(u)" is for you, Mr. Simmonds!]My dad's a patriot, I guess, but he's friendly to everyone. Rachel's part Japanese. There are aboriginal friends in Queensland.. More

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