I gave her a big head start and watched as her vulnerable form slowly disappeared in the distance.
God, how those weeks dragged! I could think of nothing but Shavonne Louisa Jacks.—her captivating smile, her lyrical voice and those warm radiant brown eyes. At a rehearsal for High Times, our last before school resumed, a couple of the guys asked me about her because they saw us talking after assembly. I lied and told them nothing came of the conversation. Terry expressed his sympathy, because he and the others could see she was beautiful. In fact, they had devised a nickname for her, which I heard with mixed feelings.
I awoke on a dreary Saturday, the first of 1968, and bounded down the stairs to a quick breakfast before my younger brother and sister rose from bed. Pop had already left fo
