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M. struggling to get Mrs. M. into her wheelchair. Both of them were coughing. The bedsheets were tangled around Mrs. M's cast, preventing him from getting her off the bed. As quickly and gently as I could, I unwrapped the sheets and freed the cast. Once the cast was loose from the sheets it only took Mr. M. a moment to get her into the wheelchair."Thanks, Champ!" Mr. M shouted between coughs. "Let's get out of here!" Sounds good to me!" I replied. Returning to my hands and knees, I shouted to him that the air closer to the floor was easier to breathe. "You go first," I told him.Mr. M. bent over at the waist, getting his head as far down as he could while pushing the wheelchair. By that time the smoke had nearly filled the house and there was only about two feet of good air near the floor. We navigated our way toward the front of the house with Mrs. M in the wheelchair, Mr. M pushing her and me bringing up the rear. Between the sounds of the smoke detectors and the wailing of fire. I went to a Christian school from kindergarten until ninth grade where we learned from a basic academic curriculum with Bible studies and theology thrown in. The only sex that was mentioned were Bible readings and was read over quickly, without any indication that it was there. We were so naïve that I can honestly say I didn’t even realize it was talking about sex until I was older.Even in our sheltered world, we knew that there was a connection between guys and girls, I even had a boyfriend. We would eat lunch together every day, he would walk me home while carrying my books, and every Sunday at church, he would sit beside me. We were a serious item. When we entered the tenth grade, our lives changed. Ben, my boy friend, and I walked into the high school on the first day, and we felt as out of place as a whore at a preachers convention. All the girls were wearing shorts that we so short that parts of their butt cheeks were hanging out the bottom. My daddy would have killed me if he.
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