One day I got to looking at her in class. She had a pretty face, her hair was straight, dark brown. Her clothes were stylish, expensive, flattered her. She was the daughter of the minister and his wife. Her mother was rich, she came from ownership in the bank. Her father, the minister, was a righteous man. Pretty, but not happy. I decided to be her friend. We were in the fourth grade.

She didn't talk much about her father, her life was her mom. The more time I spent with her the more I disliked her father. He was always preaching to you, telling you to be good and obey the word of God. After a while it got boring and I got fed up. It was hard for me to go her house, and I tried to only go when he was not there.

In the ninth grade it happened. She told me about him. The only thing I could do was reach for her and hold her against me and rock her in my arms. Rock her and kiss her gently on her cheeks, she repositioned herself so that we rocked together. The kiss on her mouth was an accident, but she kissed back. I told her I would take care of her.

Nothing could be done about what happened in her house. Love her when she was with me, rock her, hold her, kiss her, let her know that she was loved by another human being. We would lay on my bed for hours, side by side, holding hands at times, looking into her eyes, wondering how something so beautiful was so unhappy. One day, like any one of so many other days, I just kissed her on the mouth and kept kissing her and she kissed back, my hand fell upon her breast and she put her hand over mine and held it tight.

She showed me some things that made your body tingle, kisses here and there, and touching everything down there. She showed me how to use my mouth and tongue, how to find that spot that made her ask for more. How to let her kiss me, to touch me with her delicate hands, run her finger around my breast, nibble my nipples with her lips. Dig her tongue deep inside. Use her nose to rub my clit. Lay quietly between my legs, examining in detail everything she saw, opening and tasting, every fold. Until she could recite with exact precision what I looked like inside.

I asked my parents if she could come live with me. My father had to be told what was going on. This meant that my family had to break with the church. After several weeks, she moved in with us. We were going to be her family now.
Our house had several bedrooms, she was to sleep in the bedroom next to mine. It was hard to sleep knowing she was so near and so far, we tapped on the wall, we stole in the other's room, we did things that girls our age should not have permission to do.

One day my father said her father had committed suicide. She didn't blink, she didn't care, she didn't cry.

She is my baby now.