This is Chapter 4 of my story about femininity, sexuality, and faith. Read Chapters 1, 2, and 3 first.

In my Spanish 1 class, there was a boy named Daniel.*

Daniel was a smart, redheaded guy who quickly stood out to me. Admittedly, he wasn’t all that physically attractive — largely because adolescence had not been kind to him yet — but unlike all the other boys in my class, who irritated me with their outbursts of immaturity and disrespect, he seemed to have a decent head on his shoulders. He actually cared about learning.

In my book, being the studious, self-righteous snob that I was, such maturity counted for a lot.

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