Though most boys our age outgrew sleepovers once they reached high school, I still stayed at Mikey’s house a few nights every month. It got me out of my own home, away from my parents and my younger sisters, who were always bickering about boys and makeup. And it gave me a chance to be close to Mr. Pierce, who probably never said two words to us on the nights I was there but any small glimpse, any gesture, fueled my teenage crush. I wasn’t too worried about the kids at school finding out I slept over at Mikey’s because we’d been friends for so long, most people assumed we were a set. Wherever Mikey went, I wasn’t far behind. Some probably thought we were like that, which we weren’t, but Mikey had grown from a small bully in kindergarten to a formidable opponent in high school, his arms and
