When I was a young teen there was a boy at school who was a bit "off" who developed a crush on me.  One day he actually got on my school bus (he wasn't assigned to that one) and pestered me all the way home, wanting a date.  I kept telling him no.  

He got off at my stop, but to my great relief, stayed on the other side of the road.  All the same, he screamed at me, calling me a witch and other nasty names.  I had about a half mile to walk and worried that he'd cross the road or follow me since all the other kids went a different way home.  Luckily, he gave up.  

But suppose he hadn't?  My parents weren't home and there were plenty of woodsy lots in the neighborhood.  You never know.

Poor Whitney.  It must have been awful. 

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The Late Boomers' Club
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