Tanya

(post-titled by Terry)

Breath coming in harsh, Harry Tortoisedove retched once and called it good. If the injection didn't make him feel like he was fourteen again, then at least he wouldn't have to be pimply and squeak-voiced like he used to be and could still get a date with Heather Swanson-Hanson, the gymnast from Cleveland with five toes on each hand.

Harry loved her like nobody's gymnast.

It made him want to reach out and swing by the armpit to show off. Which is why he was glad the injection was kicking in, or he'd have made a fool of himself in the gym on the top floor, again. Now he could go ride the trolley past Heather's bedroom, like in the movies where that one girl lives in plastic underpants.

"Oh Heather," he sighed, "you always make me retch."

He retched.

"Harry?"

Startled, he wiped his chin and looked up. It was Tanya.