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Chapter 25 - A New Experience

Jill arrived at Burger’s office several minutes later to escort Tamara to the next event, a gathering of all of the Clarke Scholars at the new Student Center building. There they were to speak to some other scholarship winners about their experiences at both colleges.

After Tamara had met everyone, she found herself in a group with Jill and Charlene, whose guide was Nancy Janvers. Charlene was speaking.

“That was weird, the way they kept us in the dark about the scholarships. They could have just told us when we arranged our visits. I got the tuition-only scholarship. But that’s okay; my folks can afford the rest of the costs. The 65 thou per year is a great deal.”

Nancy nodded. “That’s what I’m on. I think the reason they keep up the mystery might be because of what happened in my group. I think this guy in my group must have looked good on paper but he was rude and arrogant; he figured he was a super genius or something. He irritated the wrong people so the board must have withdrawn his offer. My own acceptance letter read that the scholarship was subject to a final interview so his must have too. They won’t discuss what happened, but ever since then, they don’t tell the kids what they were chosen for.”

“Hey, Charlene is coming here from Ohio and Tamara from Florida. Will your coming here break up any high-school romances?” Jill asked.

Charlene laughed. “I was the school’s chief certified geek and nerd. All the hot guys were chasing the popular girls—you know, the queen bees and their entourages. So I didn’t date much.”

“Charlene, you were saying that your school had the Program but then we got interrupted,” Nancy said, “and we didn’t get back to that. Even the nerdy kids on the Program get some action, I’ve heard.”

“I wouldn’t know. When it started at my school in my sophomore year, I was out of the country,” Charlene said. “My dad was on sabbatical; he’s a professor. We got back in January of my junior year and I had an internship at an industrial engineering company that spring, one half-day a week. I wasn’t picked then—not sure how that would have worked if I had been. This year, as a senior, I’m not in high school on Mondays and Thursdays; I’m taking college classes then. I told Tamara about that; my high school’s on the Ohio State campus and I was in a college-high school AP program. My name was called three weeks ago but it was on a Monday, obviously, so I wasn’t in school. The idiot Program coordinator told me that I’d have to do a second week because I missed the first day, and that I had to remain in the high school for those two weeks. I just told them I wasn’t about to miss any college classes and they could just stuff their Program.”

“Cool,” Nancy said. “They didn’t try anything when you refused?”

“They made some noise about forcing me. Dad’s a law professor. He got that talk stopped. But they won’t let me walk at graduation. Like I care. So, your original question? No, got no boyfriend. Tamara, what about you?”

She giggled. “Boy? What’s a boy? Seriously, I’m fifteen and I’ll be going to college soon. The boys in my classes—they’re seniors, obviously—they don’t do anything for me—and the juniors and sophs? Children. Hardly any of them can hold a conversation, let alone put together a sentence.”

They all laughed and Nancy expressed surprise at Tamara’s age, so Tamara told her how she had skipped grades.

Then she continued, “Actually, I don’t have any time for social stuff and I don’t find any boys appealing. They just aren’t mature.”

“So no one even hit on you?” Charlene asked. “You’re really pretty, Tamara, your skin just glows. It’s a light almond color... so you must be a Latina, right?”

Tamara shook her head. “No, Haitian. My ancestors came from west Africa, not Spain or Portugal. Most Haitians are very dark, but my mom’s family has many Igbo ancestors; they tend to have fair skins. My dad’s grandparents and parents were from the Haitian upper class and most of those people tend to be almost white, but he’s a little darker, like me. And no, nobody has asked me on a date lately. I guess I project a ‘don’t bother me’ aura when boys are around. And I prefer not being bothered.”

“Tamara’s school never had the Program either,” Jill offered. “I guess one thing that the Program did was to get shy boys and girls together.”

Tamara shook her head. “No, not in any healthy way—including psychological health, too. Did you read those studies that that Atlanta high school mentioned in their articles, Jill? Especially the social effects one.”

“Um, no, that was about the information that they got from that anti-Program website?”

“Yeah. They talk about assaults, anxiety drugs, injuries—even some suicides. Given a choice between not having a boyfriend and the Program, I’d take the friendlessness any day,” Tamara told her.

“Hey, let’s not talk about that stupid crap anymore. You guys want to know about the good profs here and the ones to avoid?” Nancy asked.

“Sure!” ... “Absolutely!”

The discussion topic moved to the courses they would take in their first year and their potential teachers.

For Tamara, she floated through her remaining tour. She was thrilled that she’d be going to Hopkins and studying with a world-class scholar, a Nobel laureate, no less.

Miami Edison High School, Florida

Back at school on Monday after her Hopkins trip, Tamara found it difficult to get back into the mind-set of high school. She had gotten a new tutoring “client,” another boy, a sophomore, and Tamara felt something disturbing about him—his emotional taste was metallic, almost like blood, but there were no negative or bad overtones in it, just sadness and a little fear. He was also so shy that he spoke almost in whispers to her.

“You’re Norman, right?” she asked after he came up to her table in the Media Center, where she did her tutoring, asking for her.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I’m not getting biology.”

“Um, let’s see,” Tamara said, thinking. “You should be doing genetics about now, is that right?”

He nodded.

“Is it something you don’t understand? Where can I help you?”

Norman pulled out some worksheets. “We have to fill these out and be able to identify the cell parts on the exam and know what they do. But I don’t understand most of this.”

The sheets he gave Tamara showed a cell undergoing the stages of division. There were lines leading from the drawings of the cell structures to labels which were to be filled in.

“Okay, Norman,” she said. “It’s mostly just memory. The easiest way to remember all this stuff is to break it up into groups. One group will be the cell and its parts. Then the nucleus and its parts. After that, the chromosomes and their parts. Finally, we come to the special parts that only appear during cell division. You with me?”

“Uh, I guess so.”

He was sitting uncomfortably, squirming a little as he sat.

“Let’s start with the cell structure. This looks like a plant cell—see, it’s sort of rectangular and has a prominent cell wall. How’s that different from animal cells? You recall?”

“Um, yeah. No wall... animal cells are irregular shape too, right?” he asked as he shifted in his seat.

“That’s generally correct, but... Norman, are you uncomfortable? You keep jiggling there,” she asked.

“No... no, I’m okay.”

“Well, if you can’t be still, then you can’t concentrate, you know. I’ll point to each structure in the cell and see if you recall the name. Then write it in the blank.”

They worked for a few minutes but Norman kept losing focus.

“Listen, Norman,” Tamara said, getting exasperated with his inattention. “I think I know why you’re having problems understanding this stuff, if you can’t concentrate like you aren’t doing now. Are you like this in class too?”

He made an evasive gesture and grunted, “No. Um, not usually.”

Tamara could still sense that strange “taste” of his aura; his emotions were in a turmoil now and she also sensed an increased feeling of fear underlying his discomfort. So she decided to press him to open up.

“What’s scared you, Norman? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” he almost shouted.

She “pushed” a calming light green taste to him and “suggested,” “You can tell me why you can’t concentrate because you know you need to do it. Why are you scared?”

He started to cry. “Father... beats me,” he choked out. “Gets drunk and... whips me with... belt...”

“Doesn’t your mother try to stop him?”

“Mother... died last year. She stopped... his beatings but when she died...”

“Is that why you can’t sit... oh! The aura. His metallic taste. Norman, does it bleed when he hits you?”

“Sniff. The welts do bleed. And sting for days.”

“Damn. If you don’t treat them... Can you put antibiotics on them?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Do you have scars?”

“Yeah.”

“Get up. We need to see the nurse now!”

“No! He’ll find out and...”

Tamara “pushed” the command, “Norman. Come now.”

She led him to the nurse’s room.

“Mrs Towner, this is Norman Javits,” she whispered to the nurse while Norman was still somewhat dazed by Tamara’s command. “I just learned about his being abused by his father. He apparently has bleeding welts from beatings with a belt. Can you... the school... help him?”

“Oh dear,” Towner exclaimed. “I need to check him but yes, we can get him help if he’s being abused.” She looked at Norman. “He’s ... is he okay? He looks like he’s...”

“It’s all right; I kinda forced him to come here. He wanted to keep the abuse secret.”

Towner sighed. “That’s very common. Victims think it’s shameful and that’s why their abusers can continue the abuse. Mr Javits,” she addressed him, “come over to the exam table.”

He shuffled over and Towner drew a curtain across the room.

“Wait out there, dear,” Towner told Tamara. Then, “Norman, please slip your shirt off. Oh. Oh my. I need to get some antibiotic ointment and bandages. Wait a sec.”

She came out and nodded to Tamara. “You were right. He has some moderate to severe scarring and some fresh welts. Some of the older scars have signs of having been infected. I can take care of this now. Is he your boyfriend?”

“No ma’am. I was tutoring him and noticed that he was in great discomfort. I persuaded him to tell me what happened and then brought him here. I need to see him for a second—to tell him he’ll be okay. Can I?”

“Sure. You did a really nice thing for him. Thanks.”

Tamara went behind the screen; Norman had his shirt back on but the front was unbuttoned. She “pushed” more of the light green “taste” to him and said, “You’ll be okay now. Stay calm and don’t object to what the nurse, or anyone else, tells you to do. You want to stop your dad’s abuse. This is how you’ll do it. Okay?”

He nodded.

“Good. I’m going now—you won’t recall much of our time together, but you’ll listen to what you’re told. Right?”

“Uh huh,” he said, then looked around. “Hey, how did I get here?”

Towner came back to him with some supplies. “Tamara brought you here. Your back needs some attention. Then we need to talk.”

“‘Bye,” Tamara whispered to Towner as she slipped out.

Now I know what that metallic taste means, Tamara mused. Damn, I hope the poor kid gets out of that situation. Wonder if he has any other relatives? Should I...? Oh, hell, better not get any more involved.

She went back to the Media Center and retrieved her books; then packed up Norman’s bag and brought it to the nurse. Towner was alone but Tamara heard soft voices coming from behind the closed curtain.

“Mrs Towner, here’s Norman’s bag,” she told the nurse.

“Thanks again, Tamara. Norman’s with a counselor now. I think we’ll be able to help him with his family situation.”

“Oh, good. I was hoping you could help.”

“I think so. That was a very smart thing you did. Are you interested in the caring professions?”

“Not in health care, although my mom’s a nurse’s assistant. I’m gonna use science to help people.”

“Excellent. We need people like that too. Again, my dear, my thanks.”

This was her last period, so Tamara was free now. She called for her ride to pick her up, and on her way out of the building, she felt the warm approval glow of Erzulie Mansur fill her consciousness.

Miami Edison High School, Florida: two weeks later

“Hey, girlfriend!”

It was Linda calling from across the main hall at school.

“Hi, Linda,” Tamara greeted her. “What’s up?”

“You mean besides the news that the school district is finally gonna stop the Program in all the schools by next week?”

“Yeah,” Tamara laughed. “After that high school newspaper article from Atlanta telling kids to ‘just say no’ to the Program, and that here at Edison, we never even started it? My mom told me that her spy at the school district said that kids in all the schools were refusing to participate now.”

“Yeah and only six more weeks to graduation too,” Linda gushed. “You got a date for Prom yet?”

Tamara shook her head. “You know that I’m firmly in the no-boy zone, right? I don’t date. Most of the boys are still infants, or jerks, or conceits; the ones who aren’t are already taken. How can I date someone who turns me off?”

“But you gotta go to Prom. It’s the highlight of being a senior. It’s the high school experience you’ll never forget.” Linda argued.

“Somehow I don’t think so. Besides, I don’t see anyone lining up to ask me.”

Tamara thought that this would not be a good time to mention the negative “vibe” she projected to any boy who even looked at her twice.

“Carlos asked me to go,” Linda told her. “You know we’ve been dating for most of the senior year. I can ask him if he knows a nice guy who’ll ask you—and we can make it a double-date.”

“Linda, why is this such an issue for you? I won’t go with someone I just met.”

“How about meeting before Prom to see if the guy’s okay then?”

“Hey, girl. The way you’re pushing, I think that there’s a guy you already have in mind. Am I right?”

“Jeez, Tamara, you a mind-reader or something? You always know much more than you let on, you know. Yeah, Carlos’ cousin goes to Cushman High, you know, the private school? He’s a senior too. There are only maybe 35 seniors and they don’t have a big prom, obviously. They just do a dance social.”

Should I meet the guy? Tamara wondered. I suppose it wouldn’t be a big deal; if he’s tolerable, I might consider doing the prom then.

“Do you know him, Linda? He’s not a jerk?”

“Yeah, I met him at Carlos’ house a bunch of times. He treated me good, polite, didn’t tease me or hit on me.”

“Well, I suppose that’s about as good a reference as I could expect,” Tamara snarked.

“Oh, come on, girl. He was fine,” Linda shot back.

Tamara made up her mind. “So, then, yeah. Set up a meeting. Not a date. You be there with Carlos and I’ll see how it goes from there. Okay?”

~~~~

The following Saturday at noon, Tamara met Linda and the two boys at the “food court” in their little local mall.

“Tamara, this is Jerome Augustin,” Linda said as Tamara came up to them. “Obviously you know Carlos.”

“Yeah, after having lunch together for the past few years,” Tamara chuckled. “Hi, Carlos. Hello, Jerome. Nice to meet you.”

“It’s my pleasure too, Tamara.” He had a deep voice. “You don’t like your name shortened, I’m guessing,” he said as he stood up to take her hand.

“Yeah. Good call. So you go to Cushman.”

She was looking him over. He looked to be about six feet tall and was rail thin; his facial features were very soft, giving him an almost boyish look.

“Yep. My dad went there and got a good education, became a lawyer. So he figured I’d follow in his footsteps. I’d rather be a teacher, truthfully.”

They all sat down and continued chatting.

“So you have a small class,” Tamara stated. “How do you feel, not having a prom or high school team sports?”

“I’m not one for doing athletics, obviously. Look at me,” Jerome grinned. “I don’t really follow much sports either, except for soccer. And school dances—we do socialize, but with only 38 kids in my class... no ‘variety.’” He made finger-quotes. “So I wondered what a big dance would be like with kids my age. I hate those teen clubs. I went once. Never again. That’s why I was interested in possibly going to your own prom. I know some kids who go to Edison besides Carlos. If you think I can pass your audition, would you consider going with me?”

Hmm. He’s well-spoken and has a sense of humor. A little self deprecation too, Tamara thought.

“Yeah, let me consider it,” she nodded. “I don’t have a bell and horn to sound when you say something I like or dislike, though,” she giggled. “Let’s just chat. College plans?”

“Sure. I’ve been accepted to UF in Gainesville. Dad’s alma mater. Other schools too but that’s my top choice. Carlos is on a different track.”

Carlos nodded agreement. “Yeah, Tamara knows. Our whole gang hangs out during lunch. I got a partial baseball scholarship to FIU—you know, Florida International University. And Linda’s going there too.”

“And I have a scholarship to Johns Hopkins,” Tamara said.

“Hey, she’s even got advanced standing there, Jerome. She’s starting as a sophomore,” Linda bragged on her.

“Um, not exactly true, Linda. I’ll still be a freshman but I’ll be taking higher level courses. They may jump me in class level after my first year, though. Depends on lots of things.”

“Excuse me for being rude or forward, Tamara,” Jerome said carefully. “You kinda don’t look like you’re eighteen yet. You look younger, somehow.”

“Wooh, that’s pretty perceptive, Jerome. How’d...”

“My school. It’s so small that the grades mix quite a bit and I get to be with younger classmates a lot. So I guess I’ve gotten to be able to tell age differences in some cases—not always. You have this really cute and sweet way of talking to us—your expressions too—that are like some of my younger classmates.”

“Well, you’re correct. I’m fifteen now.”

“Geez, Tamara! Fifteen and you’re graduating?” Jerome exclaimed.

“Yeah, Tamara, you never mentioned your age to me,” Linda said accusingly.

“Hmm, I guess it never came up. Linda, you never told me your age, did you?” Tamara chuckled.

“Oh, you!” Linda snorted. “Why would my age matter... oh, I see.”

Carlos laughed. “Hey. Mama told me never to ask a gal’s age. Jerome, buddy, you stuck your foot in it.”

“Um, sorry,” Jerome said to Tamara. “I hope I wasn’t being rude or anything...”

“No, you weren’t. I thought it was kinda perceptive. Shows you pay attention to details.” She laughed. “Like a good lawyer does, actually.”

“Damn. Don’t start talking like my father,” Jerome grinned.

“Y’know, the best thing about Jerome’s school is that they didn’t have to do the Program,” Carlos said, carefully changing the subject.

Jerome laughed. “Yep. We’re a private school. We get no federal money so they can’t extort the school to force them to have something like that.”

“Did you have any Stripped in Florida kids, though?” Tamara asked.

He shook his head. “None. Hey, there are only 156 kids in the entire high school. When I was a soph, there was a freshie whose parents tried signing him up. He found it out when they took him to a doc to get his chip implanted and he freaked. He ran out and then refused to go anywhere with his parents until they promised that they wouldn’t force him.”

“You know why they tried stripping him?” Tamara asked.

“I know from a conversation between some of his friends. They liked to go to that nudist beach—it’s in Haulover Park, up in North Miami. They still go there, actually, there’s even a bus route that goes by there. Anyway, the parents found out that he was going there and were afraid that they’d get fined because, by law, kids can’t be naked unless they’re stripped. So they were gonna make him legal.”

“Wow,” Linda commented, “so there’s a nudist place near here?”

Jerome nodded. “Yeah. That beach and there’s some nudist resorts but they’re further away. A couple hotels too, I heard, cater to nudists. But that beach is free.”

Carlos was nodding his head. “Yeah, Jerome’s told me about those places before.”

Linda looked at Carlos. “You’re not thinking...?”

“No, no. Just saying,” Carlos replied.

“Hey, if kids can’t be naked outside legally, how come they were able to go naked on that beach?” Linda asked.

“The answer comes down to tourism and the money it brings,” Jerome answered. “I was curious about that beach, so I looked it up on the internet. It’s a huge attraction. The beach can have as many as 7000 visitors a day and the parking fees there alone add up to about a million dollars in a year. And if I recall the info from the website right, the annual economic impact to Miami, and Dade, through that beach is... um... $650 to $700 million, if only just half of the people who go there are non-residents. I read that for the whole state of Florida, the annual economic impact of nudism is more than seven billion dollars. That number was from before that Stripped in Florida idiocy. So the county didn’t—and doesn’t—patrol the beach for naked kids who aren’t chipped. If they did start doing that, the word would get out and tourists would stop bringing their families—money was speaking. Um, I think I got off the topic... oh, right. Stripped kids in my school. Just the one almost-stripped one, that I know of. Hell, they even refused to put one of those state scanner things at any door in the school.”

“So those kids still go to that beach?” Linda asked.

“Yeah. I... um... overheard a group planning to go back last... um... October,” Jerome answered. They went over winter break too. Hey, anything more about haunted events at Edison? I loved those stories, you know.”

Carlos shook his head. “Nah. Seems that stuff only happens when there’s nudity around the school or they were trying to start the NiS Program. But it was wicked awesome. Especially when the spirits got those teachers to strip.”

“So you really think the spirits are real?” Jerome asked.

Linda chuckled. “Hey, if you believe that spirits can force people to do stuff like that, then they are absolutely real. Many in my family go to Vodou services and I’ve seen people who are possessed do unbelievable things.”

Carlos nodded. “I don’t practice it but, Jerome, you know that our grandparents do. Remember some of their stories?”

“Sure do. Yeah, it’s hard to believe in things you can’t see the cause. Dad is agnostic, but Mom does see a manbo occasionally. She says she honors her ancestors that way. Anyway, the things that happened at your school were fun to hear about. I love that it’s considered haunted now.”

Tamara was just watching the others and listening to their conversation.

Hmm, this boy seems intelligent and polite, she thought. I could go to the prom with him, I guess; at least he’s not a dull bore. But there was something in his comments... Ah, I know. Let me find out, and I’ll see how he reacts.

“Jerome, you outed me about my age,” Tamara remarked. “You have excellent powers of observation; well, so do I. Why don’t you tell Carlos and Linda that you’re a nudist, just like that kid who was almost stripped?”

Carlos guffawed at her comment while Linda gasped.

Jerome just shook his head admiringly. “Damn, Tamara. Are you a human lie detector or something? I guess I wasn’t dissembling enough...”

Jeez. Points for the vocabulary, Tamara thought.

“... and you figured me out. May I ask what gave me away?”

Tamara chuckled. “Well, for one, someone with only a passing curiosity about a topic doesn’t start proselytizing about it. Also, you were too familiar with certain details. And it seems that Carlos knows about your secret too. Carlos, do you go to that beach too?”

Carlos shook his head. “Nope. Not me. No way. Jerome’s tried to get me to go with his group, but no. If that fuckin’ naked program had actually started, I would have freaked if I got picked.”

Linda chuckled ruefully. “Yep, me too. That’s why we worked so hard on setting up the guardians at the school. You know about the guardians, Jerome, right?”

“I do and that was a great idea. Too bad they weren’t used.”

“Um, that’s actually not true,” Linda told him. “Dr Barello, the principal, liked the idea so much that she formalized it. She asked if those kids would continue doing it. She said it was like schools in England, where they have class monitors—what’s the word they’re called, Tamara?”

“Um, prefects.”

“Right. The ones that we asked to be guardians were liked and respected at school. Someone in our group noticed that, on that anti-Program website, kids at some of the schools wrote that wearing a red garment symbolized protection, so we went with that idea. That was cool ‘cause our school nickname is ‘Red Raiders.’ Funny how that one thing caused the whole guardian corps thing to come together—even the regular students seemed to respect the idea. Back to you, Jerome. What got you into being a nudist, anyway?”

“Actually, it was a beach trip. I was in the lower school, seventh grade. There were nine or ten of us in sixth and seventh who hung together. When we tried going to beaches around Miami Beach, people chased us away, even though the beaches there are supposed to be public. There are condos or hotels along there and they frown on us ‘common people’ using the beach near them. When one of our group heard about Haulover Park Beach—it’s big and very accessible—we decided to try to go. I mentioned the bus. There’s one that goes right past the beach, so getting there was easy.”

Tamara asked, “Did you know then that it was a nude beach?”

“Nope, not at first. Actually only the northern part, the area near the last five lifeguard stands going north, is the nude part. We got set up at the south end—the beach is almost a mile and a half long. We didn’t discover the nudist section until our second visit there. A few of us were just exploring, walking north along the surf, and then we saw naked people everywhere.”

“Wow,” Linda said. “What did you do?”

“There were a few families with kids there. It was so strange. The kid I mentioned—the one who was almost stripped—he was the brave one. He just walked up to a family that had two kids around our age, a boy and girl, and began talking to them. Turned out that they were tourists and came to Miami every year and went to Haulover every time they came. The kids told us that swimming naked was awesome and that we just had to try it.

“Most of us were uncertain and were trying to decide when a woman came up wearing a green hat. Only the hat. She told us that she was a beach ambassador, had seen us walking up from the south, and came over to check us out, making sure that we were aware of the nudist beach etiquette. She had a flyer to give us and asked if we had any questions. No one could think of any so she told us that if we did, to look for someone in a green hat like hers.”

“Did you get naked then?” Linda asked.

“Well, the tourist kids went into the water after the woman left and we followed them. When we dove in, the girl told us to slip our suits off and just try swimming bare. I did and so did a few of the others in my gang. Damn, it was fuckin’ awesome! I was so hooked. No wet cloth dragging on my body. The girl saw my smile and guessed that I was a convert so she came over and told me that I’d feel the same way with the breeze and sun on my bare body. So I tried it and she was right on. I’ve been a nudist since then.”

“Nice story,” Tamara said. “What happened with the almost-stripped kid?”

“His dad noticed that he had no tan lines when they were showering in the gym one day. So he got the story out of him. His dad has some kind of elected position—a county commissioner, I think. So he wanted to avoid any legal problem about his son being naked. That’s all settled now.”

“So you angry that I outed you?” Tamara asked, grinning.

“Nah. I’m not ashamed of being a nudist—no way. But some people aren’t very understanding though—Linda? You’re not freaked, are you?” Linda shook her head. “Good. I guess you’re not bothered either, Tamara.”

“Nope. But if we start dating, don’t expect me to strip off,” she grinned.

“About that,” Jerome began. “Um...”

“The answer’s yes,” Tamara broke in. “We can go out a few times before the prom. It’s been fun talking with you. Give me your cell and I’ll put my number in it. Then we can figure out when we can get together, okay?”

“Sure. And thanks.”

Linda nodded at Tamara and smiled; Tamara winked back at her.

As she walked away, Tamara thought, Jeez, what have I done? Well, we have the rest of the spring term and the summer to see each other, if I can go that long without learning something bad about him. But I don’t really feel much of any emotional “taste” from him. He’s a straight-shooter, though. I didn’t sense anything deceptive. Oh well, Tamara, enjoy the new experience.

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