She sounded giddy when I told her I'd stayed after school to tutor a classmate and she found out it was a boy.School dragged even worse the next day. We finally got out and found our way to the public library. But we spent a scant twenty minutes studying chemistry and the next three hours, straight through the supper hour, talking about ourselves and our respective families. We immediately felt comfortable and at ease together. Needless to say we began dating. We only had five weeks before prom.My mother was ecstatic. I finally had a boyfriend! We dated once a week in his father's 1950 Studebaker. It was twelve years old. But one of the things I found out about Timmy was that he wanted to be an auto mechanic. He was in the auto mechanics classes in school and he kept the old Study running in tip top shape. His dad had a much newer car for his own use.We were both still too shy to initiate anything sexual. I sat next to Tim, as I now called him, and he put his arm around me. But that. His body trembled like he fought against unseen bonds. He snorted like a bull, his face growing crimson as he strained against my orders.“Things are going to change around here,” I snarled, my anger bubbling through me. My fists clenched, my body trembling. “First, you are never touching alcohol again. You’ll—” My thoughts burned. A thousand needles stabbed into my mind. My words cut off into a groan as my vision fuzzed black for a moment. I didn’t care. “It makes you sick. Beer, wine, spirits. It doesn’t matter. Any alcohol wants to make you throw up.”The pain flared through my mind, but I talked through them, my words growing tighter. When I finished, I sucked in deep breaths, the discomfort retreating as my commands rewrote my dad’s mind.“What nonsense are you talking ‘bout,” he growled. He shook his head. “Randy, when I figure out how to walk again, I’m going to beat your ass red. Teach you to talk—”“Shut up!” I snarled. My thoughts buzzed. “You talk when I give you.
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