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She had about thirty of them in a corner, varnished wood, full of all the names of boys whose cheeks she'd made aflame. Boys she'd deflowered, in a way. By the time you were ten you'd signed your name about twenty times. Had started masturbating while thinking of chuck low the girls on your block bent over the nun's knee and chuck low screaming in their little girl whines. chuck low In the back alleys of Boston, bony Catholic kids, freshly changed out of their school uniforms, congregated and had mock trials. The convicted had to go through spanking machines, and if it was a particularly brutal summer day, when the heat was so oppressive that the dogs curled up behind garbage cans looking for some shade, the victim had to pull his pants down first. Girls got to watch. Couldn't hit; it was a sin to touch a boy's bare ass. You noticed how some girls looked away if the boy started to cry, and others got a twitch in their hips under their skirts, like it was all they could do not join in.
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