And then, for the first time, Wood noticed a small stream of blood coursing slowly down her cheek. . “What’s going on with you?” John asked inquisitively, looking down at her abdomen. She swallowed hard. It was not a long prayer. “I thought we had discussed that, father. When the word “FREAK” appeared scratched in the persimmon colored paint on her locker, she knew that in some fragile young woman’s mind a war had escalated from imaginary to physical. I need a white man, if only to talk to; and it will be a god send to talk to someone of your intelligence. . Mama will be expecting me.
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