Ghost rider bowen

He listened patiently, but when I told him I left my bike at the park and he finally said something."You can't ditch your bike, baby. "To be clear, my father wasn't THE Ghost Rider, not the one most people know about, but he was A Ghost Rider. I locked myself in the bathroom - much to the chagrin of my sisters Diana and Madison - and sobbed my way through a whole box of tissues. When I finished he told me that he had taken it all out and farted on it in the bathroom."So you'd get skinny," he claimed.Not another noseless face when I climbed out of the shower and wiped away the steam. Brad had pet names for me like "Mere-breath" and "Smelly M" and "Fat Meredith," which was not clever at all and at least partly responsible for my struggle with my weight throughout high school and college.When Dad got home he had to pry the story out of me through the bathroom door. I'd gone full-on skull for the first time and it happened seconds after my first kiss. I changed back after only a few seconds, but the damage was done. I rode my bike to the park that day and by coincidence or fate I found Brad Dillford throwing rocks at the light above the dugout at the baseball diamond. Brad pushed me down in puddles, threw juice in my hair, tore up my favorite folder, and wrote "you love gary klutcha" on my arm in permanent marker.I ate a chicken salad and Brad Dillford fart sandwich. I guess sometimes you hate something so much you start to love it. I realized I could love this boy, even if it was for all the wrong reasons.