" He was always building me up, instead of pointing out my flaws. "If you stay focused, forget about all those trick pitches they will try to teach yo..., you will be a fearsome closer. Don't forget – ever - they teach trick pitches to boys that can't throw like you."There had to be some reason I was blessed to be in this body. It made some sort of cosmic sense that I would fall into the body of a boy killed by his father, who was part of the mob, since my last body was killed by them. Now I was. I wanted to prance. I felt like a prize show dog on display, a bitch in her prime proving just how amazing she was. I smiled, dazzling each and every boy I passed. A chorus of “Good morning, Mrs. Taylor,” echoed around me. Every boy smiled or grinned or smirked at me. Their eyes all flicked up and down my body, noticing me.I perched on a stool in front of my first class, legs crossed, all the boys crowding up the front rows. The girls all look disgusted. They were in the back, scowling, staring. More

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