Within an hour, Julie was walking in the store in a tight blouse, a short skirt, stockings and garter belts, which were barely covered by the skirt, a...d pumps on her feet. She struggled walking with the pumps but Sarah promised that she would get used to them. They walked down a side corridor on their way back to Sarah’s corvette, when suddenly Sarah grabbed Julie’s arm, nearly unbalancing her. ‘Wait, she said. ‘Here’s one of those photograph machines.’ Indeed it was. It was a photograph booth. But there’s nothing I can do about it, I suppose. I pulled out the pack I’d made, zipped up my parka and stepped out the door. And sank to my ass in snow. Shit. I’d forgotten I’d probably have to shovel myself out of here. Damn it. I turned and went back into the cabin and retrieved a pair of snow shoes. The damn things needed a little repairing, so I used that favorite universal fix it tool, duct tape. It wouldn’t last long, but I figured the shoes would hold up long enough for me to get out. "Lexi has grown up like you did, Jay," she said. "She relies on me. When she started to rely on Doug, I ruined that. I'll take responsibility for some of the way you've turned out emotionally. But your mom has to take a hit there, too. I know you don't want to hear it, but she raised you to trust very few people and count on less than that."If you're honest to yourself, you know it's true."I remembered what my Mom said about the lessons she'd never taught me. I hadn't thought about that. I hope you'll understand that I've been trying to study for my final examinations, and simultaneously trying to stifle (usually unsuccessfully) these awful desires inside me. I guess I've missed writing the diary. You see, it acts as a kind of confessional for me. I don't go to confession any more, and writing my diary acts as a way of unburdening myself of my concerns. When I used to go to confession at church, I always used to come out feeling refreshed. Although, deep down, probably eager to.