"I take it that's a yes?" I look down, nod silently. I can't say anything. Silently we get up together and head for her apartment. The walk across the...park leaves me a little breathless. The breeze rustles the trees, scattering stray leaves on the sidewalk. The doorman looks pointedly at me, smiles knowingly at her as we pass, taking the elevator to her floor. The entry hall of her apartment has a series of drawings of women. Most are in the park, sunning on benches, lying on the grass. There. Thinking back on it, I found it strange how much and how often girls cry.Boys aren't supposed to cry but I never understood why not. They havefeelings like girls but they are supposed to hide them. I loved beingable to show my emotions freely when I was with Amy.In my diary, I started to record my thoughts and feelings, as well aswhat had happened to me that day. I found what I thought was the perfecthiding place for it, a box in the back of my closet. I didn't want Mommaor Daddy to find it and. More

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