“Fuck six weeks, you said I only have two weeks of restriction,” Waverly complained to her mother.“After the shit, you pulled last night you are...lucky only to have SIX weeks. You will get TWELVE weeks if the Davidson’s kick us out because of your shenanigans!” Betty promised her daughter.That didn’t sound like a joke threat at all.“What did I do last night?” Waverly asked. When her mother glared at her, Waverly added, “No, really, I can’t remember. I was high as fuck most of the night.”“You put. Wary of getting into worse trouble, neither of us brought attention to our confused shoes. We endured a verbal warning to be more quiet and better behaved, and were escorted back to class, still wearing each other's shoes.I wore the pink-and-white "Strawberry Shortcake"tennis shoes on my small, boyish feet the rest of the morning. I loved it.It wasn't until late afternoon that Gretchen and I got the opportunity to switch back our shoes. I remember hating to have to do it and wondering if I'd. I mean I could hear voices, but not what was being said, and those voices kept speaking until I finally fell into an exhausted sleep. They obviously hadn't been traumatized into silence, but that didn't mean they would still tolerate my existence.It had been weird. It was still weird, because I couldn't figure out how to feel about it. What was arguably one of the best things that had ever happened to me had... happened to me. There wasn't a guy in school who wouldn't give his left nut to get. My husband never understood me, you see, he never ... indulged my desires. He said it was ungodly, unnatural. When I laid eyes on that little maid though,” her eyes seemed to roll back into her head and a smile crossed her lips, as if she were recalling some fond memory of her distant youth. “So prim, so proper, she tended to her duties with such delight and vigor that I couldn’t help but stop atop the staircase and watch her clean the floors below. As it turned out we were like-minded, and she.