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HIM with his unruly, curly hair. She could forget he was there sleeping, he was so quiet. Much the opposite of herself. She flung blankets when she got too hot, was known to stir endlessly after bad dreams, and was always too cold. At all times she must have at least 4 blankets on top of her. She loved the weight of them against her. Underneath those blankets it was warm enough for her to sleep. If a blanket was missing, she would be cold and consequently, would spend the night tossing and cursing. Underneath those blankets she could comfortably sleep in one of her many old t-shirts and panties. The fact that she did not require pajamas was her favorite. It was important that she feel the softness of her blankets along her skin as she slept. ‘Are you awake?’ he whispered. ‘Yes.’ she replied acting groggy. Next he did what she considered to be an abnormality. He pushed aside his light blue sheet and entered her heavy, warm blankets. As he entered her sleeping arrangement he gently. Cindy felt very calm. The slippery bubbles would compress when her body hit them, almost stopping her momentum before popping in a burst of red light and dropping her into the next bubble. No, not dropping, she decided. It felt as if each bubble pop were accelerating her into the next bubble. She could also feel Jim's arms around her in the alternate reality of sleeping on the couch, his hand still cupping the left cheek of her butt through her jeans. "Jim, what is this?" she link-thought in Cantonese."Quantum foam," Jim's sleepy thought returned in English."Huh?" You're so beautiful... Such lovely fur..." Jim thought in great drowsiness. "All the lovely brown and red stripes..." Huh?!" Lots of cute feet too..." WHAT?!"And then the dream changed. The bubbles were gone, and Cindy appeared to be inside a cave. The cave sloped up and ended about ten feet in front of her, with an exit hole in the roof of the very smooth rock, almost polished. Two legs in jeans and hiking boots were just.
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I soon learned how he telegraphed his intent to prank me. He would elbow poke one of the girls and look around to be sure the coast was clear each time before he would act. I managed to either deflect or turn his pranks around almost every time after my discovery. By sixth grade he was desperate to show me up, that was the year he talked me into joining Golden Gloves down at the Boys Club. I was a thin boy, he had six inches reach and about 15 pounds on me. He had no idea that Dad was teaching me various forms of fighting on Thursday evenings, while Mom was at choir practice. Dad told me he looked like he had a glass jaw and showed me how and where to hit him to take advantage of it. The third week of matches he and I were listed together on the lineup. I deflected his punches fairly well, allowing him to make contact, but do little damage. I connected as many as he did. We only had one round, I was watching the clock out of the corner of my eye. With fifteen seconds left on the.

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