All the 6th grade Catholic school boys wanted to sit across from her. Melanie was two years older than all of us, blemishes all over her cheeks, thick side burns, smelly breath. She spoke in heavy slang and loved rap. Her dream was to tattoo tear drops on her face. The guy she was seeing outside of school was 21. Still, a seat at her table, facing her, was the prize. She liked to take her shoe off and rub her foot against our junk. We all pretended to listen to the Scripture.