Days passed. My spirit friends were true to their words. Over the next few days they both failed to appear. This was a consequence of my inability to break free from my silent mode. What would it take?

One morning I walked into the schoolyard and knew immediately something big was happening. Instead of playing in groups of two or three, students were gathered around a figure. Curious, I walked with faster steps, anxious to see who commanded such attention.

In the middle of the group stood Ah Tu, The Pig. Whatever he was showing the crowd made them cackle with laughter. I looked more closely. Then my heart skipped a beat as I saw what he held in his hands.

"Can you imagine what kind of crazy person would paint such a thing and call it art? Ah! And look at this one. Weird, huh?" Ah Tu shouted at the circle around him.

Loud roars of laughter greeted his words. "Show us more," someone yelled.

"And how about this one? The painter must have been as drunk as old man Guo Fu gets when he drinks his homemade rice wine."

Even the girls, who usually avoided Ah Tu and his friends, giggled behind their upraised hands and poked each other with their elbows. It was obvious they were more than amused at what the older Ah Tu had to say, as he showed them picture after picture.

Encouraged, Ah Tu went on, "What does this look like to you? How about a madman coming apart at the seams and running away with his tail on fire?"

"You're some art critic, Ah Tu," someone else called out.

"Ai-yahhh! What a monstrosity," Kho-teng shouted as The Pig held up a different watercolor from the collection. "Never knew anyone could paint such ugly pictures. An orangutan could do better dipping his hands and feet into a paint-bucket and walking across the paper on hands and feet."

"Tell us how you got them, Ah Tu. Did you find them in the trash bin?" yelled another.

"You'll have to ask Ah Lea about that?" replied The Pig, as my face burned in my embarrassment.

The Pig was enjoying himself immensely; the rapt expression of delight on the faces of his audience did not help me any.

"Who would call this art? Only a dummy like my cousin Ji-jing!" he scoffed. "You heard me right. You're looking at the inside of the dummy's brain."

He used my name, and he was correct. They were all mine. I gave them to Ah Lea a few days ago. I thought she found them so special, she couldn't resist asking for them. Her exact words were: "Could I keep these? I've never seen such wild colorful designs before."

I shook my head yes and was pleased that she enjoyed my art work so much. They were the end results of a homework assignment. We were told to go off by ourselves with our paint trays and experiment. Since she was my best friend, I shared my work with her. I thought they would be safe in her hands. What a mistake!

I drew near, and nobody paid me any heed. I walked up and stood next to Ah Lea. When she saw me, she moved away saying, "Serves you right."

The bell rang.

One by one, we made our way into our classroom. "Good morning, Mrs. Chan," everybody greeted as they walked by. As usual, she was in her place at the doorway to greet us.

Would this be the day my "Good-morning Mrs. Chan," might be heard? My chest hurt from my racing heart. It was going a mile a minute. Once again nothing came out of my mouth. Instead, I looked down at the floor and, as usual, fled past her to my seat.

"Is something wrong, Ji-jing?" came Mrs. Chan's concerned voice from behind my back.

My best friend did this! What a traitor! I never expected her to turn on me this way. On top of that I still remained mute.

Ten thousand curses! Frustrated, I swung my backpack off my shoulders rather fast. Another big mistake. Books fell out of the unzipped opening and scattered everywhere. Reaching to catch them, I dropkicked one right under the teacher's front desk. Quickly, I scrambled to get that bouncing book and actually disappeared from sight.

I could picture Mrs. Chan's mouth falling open and eyes growing round in shock and surprise. Talk about nightmares; this was one disastrous morning. I doubt if it could get any better. I crawled out from under that desk with my hands reaching to gather the rest of those fallen books. When I finally made it to my seat, all eyes were on me. I felt like going back and hiding under Mrs. Chan's desk.

All the way to school I had daydreamed about Mrs. Chan's reaction should I reach that doorway and greet her with: "Good morning, Mrs. Chan." A smile of delight would come over her face and she would say: "I knew you could do it, Ji-jing. I knew it would only be a matter of time before you'd start talking. I watched you, you know, watched the way you contained yourself whenever I asked questions and you knew the answer. I saw your desire to answer. Now, at last you can contribute your share to this class. Class, let's give her a cheer. Hip, hip...

Indeed, that was what I dreamed Mrs. Chan would say this morning. And the class? Of course they would answer: "Hurrah!" And after another hip, hip... from Mrs. Chan would come another, "hurrah!" from the class. Would you believe that was the picture I carried in my mind all the way from home?

That would have been so great... and yet the reality was quite the opposite. There were no hip-hips and certainly no hurrahs from the students. Instead, disaster had struck. Next, I half expected an earthquake to shake the building and the ceiling to fall and crush me. It was only to be expected the way this day was going. I just knew more calamities were due. All I could do was put a silly smile upon my face, stare straight ahead, and act as though the world was a happy place.

"Alright class, let's begin this morning's work. I hope you all brought your homework," Mrs. Chan said, smiling brightly as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

Instead of thinking about my troubles, I decided to concentrate my energies upon the figure standing in front of us. What a beautiful face. She's actually very pretty. Yes, very pretty, I thought in surprise. This woman's eyes always shone with warm softness, her smile gentle and face glowed with life, happiness, and pleasure. Her cheeks wore a healthy red hue; she certainly would not need cosmetics.

"That list of words on the board were mis-spelled by some of you yesterday. Copy them down right now. You will see them again on your next spelling test." She suddenly clapped her hands to wake up the non-attentive. "Let's get cracking! You should all be writing them in your notebook."

Such animation was part of her personality. She filled her classroom with such vibes, students loved to be in the same room with her. I felt safe in her care and secure in the knowledge she would never knowingly hurt anyone's feelings. It must be the greatest pleasure in the world to be a teacher. Perhaps one day I too could be..., but first I had a major problem to solve. It would certainly interfere with any such plans if not solved quite soon.

Old Flambo was right when he advised me to conquer my self-consciousness by getting my mind off self. When I began thinking of Mrs. Chan, and not myself, I felt a lot better. Must do that more often.

For the rest of the day I watched others with more interest and put Ah Lea's betrayal out of my mind. What she had done could not be so easily forgotten, however.

How did I do those art-pieces? It began when I went to Old Saga for privacy as well as shade. Under her branches, I spread my tray of watercolors. There, I painted scenes of the river and trees along its bank. The colors came out muddy, not what I wanted at all.

Another day I painted the school surrounded by jungle trees. None of my pictures turned out right. I changed colors, even brushes, always taking care to clean them properly. Nothing worked.

I talked to Old Saga, waiting for Diva or Flambo to appear, but they seemed to have lost interest. One time, while I was busy cleaning my brushes in a tray of water from the river, a noise distracted me. I glanced up from my work. What I saw in the sun's reflection formed a beautiful sight. Very near my drying pictures was a spider. This creature was a true artist. I watched as he worked building his web between tall tufts of lalang grass. The pattern of the web was complex, yet in a natural way quite simple.

It was fascinating watching that energetic spider go from side to side, a silken thread trailing from the rear. "My, aren't you the busy one," I said, finding it easy talking to a non-talking creature.

A small breeze whiffed, causing the stalk of one or the other strip of lalang to sway. Several times the spider missed its targeted mark. In the end his persistence paid off. A short time later, a perfect web was in place. Then the spider crawled to the very center and waited for dinner to appear and tangle themselves in his finished net trap.

An idea came to me. I propped a clean sheet of drawing paper behind his artwork. Next, I dipped fingers into my tray of colored water and flicked it towards my paper. I kept dipping and flicking, until I had colors going all over the place. When I thought it enough, I pulled away the paper. The finished work was very good. Like a stencil in reverse, the web and spider stood out in perfect white, while the colored background was all profile.

Now, I had a piece of artwork I could proudly hang on any wall. Then something unbelievable happened. It had me sitting down amazed. That rascal of a spider would have his revenge for being doused in paint. His unexpected bath must have influenced him in a most perverse way.

Dropping down from his web, he crawled over to another of my blank white papers. To my astonishment, he walked all over it. Was he wet and needed drying? Perhaps the white of the paper attracted his attention. I wanted to believe he meant to give me a taste of what great abstract art was all about. On the once clean paper were a path of multi-colored footprints.

The spider still wasn't satisfied. When his legs were dry, he went over to the tray of colors and found those that suited his taste. They were still wet from my brush. He waded through them. When his legs and body were covered with colors, he leaped over to that same paper. His trampling left even more marks across the paper. They seemed to form a haphazard pattern, however, they were intricate enough to make one look again at what was materializing out of randomly placed colors.

All the while, I watched, goggle-eyed. He certainly was possessed of a free spirit! One time he even got all eight legs running and pumping away in gay abandon galloping across the paper. Suddenly, in full flight, he stopped them all at the same time. His forward push added a certain flourish to the painting. What a good name for him, I thought. Slider... Yes, indeed he was a slippery slider…

Slider's movements were direct and bold. He appeared to know what he was doing. The spider did look as if he were enjoying himself. I didn't mind. I had as much paper and time as he had energy and playfulness.

Finished, his painting reminded me of pictures I saw in a book on modern art. You know, the type where a few slashes of paint could be termed as a painting of great value.

"You're good, little Slider," I congratulated the furry splasher with his eight hairy brushes. "You've got good sense with colors, but your perspective could do with some improvement. Rather two dimensional, if you really want to know. You've not put any depth into the picture."

I might have been prejudiced however Slider's work looked as competent as any done by those the art book called Cubists or even some done by a group they called Jacks and Po-locks or something like that."

After that, I went back several times to work under the saga tree. Each time the splashy slider left his web and worked his designs upon any clean paper I spread for him. He seemed to enjoy such diversion.

"Hey Slider, I'm glad to have your company," I'd always greet him. "What kind of mood are you in today? Going to work with dark or light colors?"

My collection of artwork grew. That was when I could not resist showing them to Ah Lea. I wrote her a note about my strange spider painter friend. At the time she had said, "Oh thank you, Ji-jing. I'll hang them in my room and keep them proudly on display." I thought it only would be shared between the two of us. It would be our little secret.

Was I ever wrong! Shouldn't have trusted her, but I did. What a cruel way to get even with me. This latest dirty trick was really mean. I didn't think she was that small-minded. She knew what Ah Tu would do if she showed them to him. The Pig was ready for any kind of mischief and my classmates played right into his hands. Guess they had low opinions of modern art done in watercolors.

Glancing toward my former best friend, I tried to understand her behavior. Ah Lea still looked rather unhappy. Maybe her conscience as a turn-coated traitor was bothering her.

Once I took stock of the situation, a dreadful thought occurred to me. Did Ah Lea tell Ah Tu that I had a pet spider that worked with me on those pictures? I hope not. Then I would be in for even more ridicule. Another thought no less pleasant hit me. If she hadn't would she hold that over my head as blackmail? We girls are clever at devising devious plans to not only embarrass but also humiliate another. This might be one of those times when a female would satisfy her whim.

I squirmed in discomfort at the thought. How long before she lets out this incredible piece of information? What could I do to escape the clutches of this friend turned enemy? My problems never seem to go away. Instead they seemed to gather like rabbits and multiply.

Doubt, that gloomy intruder and disrupter of peace and comfort, invaded my space. What a mess! Finally, our last class came. I thought it never would. With school over, I headed in the direction of Old Saga. To my surprise, the moment I climbed into the gathering of limbs forming my usual place of shelter, I made contact. Both dragon and sprite appeared as if knowing my mind.

I turned a pleading face to my dragon friend, panic and desperation in my voice. "Oh please, I need your help desperately. You said you wouldn't appear until I made some progress. Well, I did, only it was all in the wrong direction. Soon, it won't only be my voice that'll be missing, it'll be me. Just want to die. Some Chinese believe in reincarnation. Could I come back as a tree spirit? How about committing suicide right now. If I jumped from this very tree and bashed my head on the ground, maybe I could join Diva."

"Suicide is a permanent cure for what ails you," scoffed the dragon.

"Killing yourself is not a good recommendation for tree sprite membership," announced Diva. "It will look very bad on your resume'. I couldn't give you a recommendation for anything better than coming back into this life as a flying squirrel. Now they jump out of trees all day long. Sounds like you might be a good applicant for that."

"She does act a little squirrelly," came from the helpful fire-spitter with char-coal breath.

"Whoa! Hold on there, little dragon girl," whooshed the lisping dragon. He appeared fully rested and brimming with renewed vigor. "You go from smiling in the morning to down in the mouth in the afternoon. What happened to the confident schoolgirl vowing to end her silence and talk? Now you want to snuff out your young life? That doesn't sound like the Ji-jing we've been teaching to face her world."

"A little butterfly told me you were having a bad time at school," reported Diva. "Didn't think it would get that bad."

"It did," I sighed sadly, "Bet devas like you make friends easily. I want to be a nature sprite like you who helps make the world more beautiful. Your life is so happy and carefree, nothing to do but look beautiful. Just waiting to find butterflies, bees and anything that lives to chat and gossip with. Who needs school work? Rather do what you creatures do. Seems a lot more rewarding. At least you don't have traitors betraying you."

"That's what you think," replied Diva, smiling. "Not that easy by a long shot. You don't just step in as a tree spirit and life is bliss. Must work at surviving like all humans too. Young, we have to battle elements of the nature world, wind, thunder, storms, lightning, and human nature such as wood-cutters. Believe me, being a student in your classroom is by far easier and less weary."

"But how can I ever face my schoolmates again? Every time I go near that place my tongue becomes more tied. It doesn't get any better. I cannot get it to loosen up, not even with all your efforts to help me. You've given me a chance. I've failed you. Why bother with me any more?"

"I wish you could look into a mirror and see what we see looking at you," comforted Diva. "If you can only see all of what you are and what you are capable of doing with yourself. There is a spunky you bound up within your little-girl's body. Let it out. Don't be afraid of your own precious essence. Enjoy your sacredness and human nature. The saddest tragedy is when you keep it fettered, and not let it out to explore and play. You do that when you refuse to communicate with others. It will work for you, if you only let it. You prefer to be frozen in a cocoon of your own making. Shame on you, Ji-jing!"

Solemn for once, the dragon listened without interruption. He finally nodded in agreement with Diva. Then he spoke in a low rumbling voice. "We see the real you, little dragon girl. We recognize the greatness of your spirit. All you need do is free your inner beauty. It is your silence, that's the prison you built for yourself. Let your voice free! It takes only a small opening to fly outward. Just one spoken word and your silence will be broken. That's the wall you've built around yourself. Your classmates might think they know you, but they've never experienced you the way you are at home."

"I've got an idea. What about going to school with me? If you go with me, I will have support and no problem talking," I begged, feeling desperate. "I now understand that lesson you taught me about changing myself."

"No," the big puffer replied, showing equal determination. "You have to do it on your own. You can do it. However, there is something I want you to do when you get home. I want you to look at yourself very carefully in a mirror. It will show you what Diva and I see. You will be surprised by it, and it'll definitely help in your self-cure. Will you do that?"

"Of course, if it helps," I quickly answered.

"We know about Slider, your special friend," added Diva as though it were nothing special.

"And we've already sent him to your house. He took off from here dangling on a silk thread from a blackbird's bill. The bird will drop him on the roof of your house," informed the dragon. "On his bottom side he carries a smidgen of my essence. Once he enters your bathroom window, he'll dab some on your mirror. When you get home, look closely into that silver-backed glass. You must then see for yourself what we see. Then you will know who and what you really are."

"You scaly scoundrel! Wouldn't let me have a dab to help me talk, but you gave some to Old Slider?" I couldn't believe my ears.

"That's because you'll have to work on yourself, no spoon-feeding here," the dragon responded. "Again, you won't see or hear from us until you take a step in solving your problems. Not backward, but forward into change."

"You are getting one more chance from us. Don't mess up this opportunity," cautioned Diva.

"Now we must get back to our own business. Get a life, little dragon girl," ordered Lung-mei, moving towards his secret hole in the trunk. Leaves and branches moved aside as if the dragon pushed a hidden button.

"Wait, don't go. You can't leave me like this?" I cried.

"Sure can," whistled the little soft voice of the tree spirit.

As I watched, they disappeared, separating into Diva's usual dimming green light and dragon's light gray puff of smoke. Both had retired to their own natural tree niche.

"But what will I do at school tomorrow? I feel so empty inside. How does one push out their chest and stick up their courage?" I moaned aloud.

Silence.

Down I climbed and some minutes later was back home. I made straight for the bathroom, anxious to see what those two planned for me. At the door, I hesitated. Do I really want to see what the mirror might reveal? What if I do not like what I see?

Slowly, I moved inside and locked the door behind me. Looking up, I spotted a freshly made web in the corner by the ceiling. "Been a very busy little fellow, haven't you, Splashy Slider?" I said, feeling instantly better. My silent friend was there with me, not like some wily will-of-wisps I've been talking to lately.

"So you know Flambo and Diva, do you? Well, let's see what you've been up to, Slider."

Spiders might give some girls the creeps, but I had played and painted with this well-behaved companion. I felt as though I knew and trusted him. How did I know it was a him? Such a feisty personality had to be a male.

Sometimes, Slider even acted as though he actually understood me. Strange, but true. Most people never take the time to look closely at them and study their features. I did. He looked foreign and ugly at first, but after a while I found he wasn't all that frightening. What I found fascination about Slider were his different moods.

You don't think spiders are moody characters? Just watch them closely for a few hours; you'll see what I mean. Sometimes they like to meditate and be by themselves. They won't move until it suits them. At other times they are hyper and jump around all over the place. They were good at fighting also. Ever heard of cock fighting? Well, spider fighting was not that different as a sport in our culture.

I learned about it the day I overheard Cousin Ah Tu announcing to Kah Li, "I've got me a fighting white-faced spider."

Short spindle-legged Tian stood next to The Pig and peered into the jar in his friend's hand. "How do you know he's a fighter?" he asked.

"All white-faces are known to be good fighters. They'll fight another male spider in a second. Bet I can sell mine to a gambler for good money. Might even be worth a Singaporean dollar," answered my stub-nosed fat cousin.

I was glad my spider had a black face. The moment Slider saw me, he dropped down on the end of a silken thread and slowly oscillated back and forth at about my eye-level. I could tell he was impatient for me to get in front of that mirror. I couldn't tell where he had swabbed Flambo's precious dragon essence, but I was sure it had been done. This slippery Slider was rather diligent in his dabbing and swabbing. He had done it often enough with my watercolors.

"I see you, Splashy Slider. Don't think you can be so easily ignored. You're a demanding one, aren't you? Well, I'll look in that mirror in my own good time. Just don't rush me, if you please. Don't need any more pressure in my life. I've got enough of that, thank you very much!" I said from beside the closed door.

There is no doubt in my mind that spiders can act the comic. Slider suddenly began bouncing up and down at the end of his thread. Maybe he thought he was on a bungee cord, but whatever it was, he wanted me to get in front of that mirror.

Being born in a dragon year and rather proud of it, I was not about to be hustled by any eight-legged arachnid acting like a spider monkey. "Back off, Fly-face, before I cut your cord-swing and leave you dangling without a net."

You've got to keep these characters off-balance or they'll start taking over your life. They think that because they can weave a web that traps their dinner, they can lure anything in the world into their little schemes. Great schemers and dreamers, these eight-legged busybodies, yes they are.

"Don't get so pushy, Slider," burst out of me. "Maybe that black-bird is still outside and getting hungry."

Lifting itself up an inch or so, Slider stopped his dancing and settled into a lazy swinging motion. I think hairy-face knew I was hesitant and delaying. That's why he was so impatient.

"Ok, I'm ready now."

Taking courage and with my eyes closed, I walked over and stood in front of the washbasin. Even though I looked into this same mirror every day this school year and hundreds of times before, I knew this time it would be different. It had to be. Flambo's dragon essence had touched it. No telling what that wily flame-gulper and his delivery-boy had waiting for me. Whatever it was, would I be ready to face it?

"Ji-jing, open your eyes and see the real you." a voice reached inside my head and spoke.

Was that voice coming from the sling swinger? I was so surprised and bewildered; I did just that. Though I look at myself daily in mirrors, this one took me by surprise. It was probably because I never ever stopped to fully examine myself with the eye of a stranger. A quick look as I combed my hair, and off I would go to attend to other business.

This ... this strange little girl looking back at me, is it really me? Oh no! This was the real me! The me that the whole world could see! Yet look at that---. How remarkable. I hadn't counted on this at all. My, my, what a sight! So that's me through the eyes of other people. I am what I see and that is a remarkable face and must belong to a remarkable person. What a discovery!

Dark brown eyes stared back at me, almost black in their depth. I looked at them fixedly, almost frightening myself as those dark depths drew me inside. They must be riveting when I stare at someone.

Wow! I look very Chinese. With almond-shaped eyes and pert little sharp nose, I could not be otherwise. My cheeks were round and pronounced with healthy pinkish color. The skin looked smooth and baby-soft. Those cheekbones protruded enough to break-up the roundness of an otherwise moon-like face. Chin was firm, giving me a determined look, maybe even intelligent. Ears were normal enough. My brothers always said they made my head look like a jug. I don't think so.

My eyes traveled upwards to the top of my head. I could see why mother suggested I wear my hair in bangs. It suited me, framing a smooth winkle-free forehead. Long curved eyebrows emphasized wide and innocent looking eyes. Beautiful coal-black hair was waist length and flowed over my shoulders like an ebony waterfall. I was on the slim side, not skinny, but turned sideways I did look very very slender.

"Is it possible that I am as beautiful as I look right now?" I asked the dangling Slider. My question was directed more to myself than the web spinner. He hopped up and down as if in agreement.

Looking even more closely, the image in the mirror smiled back at me in a pleased grin. Her mouth opened, I heard the words, "Ah, but I am more than the pretty face and healthy slim body you see in front of you. I am Pang Ji-jing and will soon make my presence known in my class and be one who..." I stopped short of finishing that sentence for that was the puzzle to be completed. When all the pieces were fitted together, what would they show?

What effect would the dragon essence applied by the spider have? Then I discovered the answer.

Those eyes in the mirror turned soft with smile-lines appearing around them. They had been warm with delight moments earlier, but now narrowed to a steely determine glitter. Facial muscles tightened around my mouth even as those eyes continued staring at me.

"I will talk, I will do it. I will do anything I can to break this self-defeating attitude," came from my mouth. Those eyes glared back at me, the guilty culprit responsible for my public silence.

With a note of surprised wonder, the face in the mirror declared: "Never could I have guessed that I could look like this. Feisty, aggressive and determined. If my classmates were to see me now, they would think twice before they bullied me."

The thought brought on so much pleasure, the mirror image broke into a wide smile. Those lips were suddenly gleeful and no longer stiff and unyielding. Instantly, those eyes sparkle with new life, causing that smile to turn mischievous as it played around the corners of my mouth. Now a happy, merry, cheery, fun-loving face looked back at me.

A voice rang from my head, "This is the same one who pounces on my brother when he dares to sprawl on my bed. Yes, the same one who tickles that devilish brother until he screams in desperation and removes himself. This mischievous glint in my eye is the same one I get when I give my older brother a good pounding. This is the same girl dragon that engages Lung-mei in a banter of words."

I looked back at myself and observed, "Diva and Flambo are correct. This is me when I am lost in play at home and with my spirit friends. The 'Me' none of my classmates ever experience."

Could those ideas coming at me from the mirror be that other part of me old Flambo talked about with his 'two you's'? Was it my higher self trying to communicate with me? Couldn't be my conscience. People said a person's conscience tells them when they are bad. This voice was telling me good things.

The mirror revealed a side of myself I did not see before. As I continued studying myself, it occurred to me 'directness' was the best way to face my difficulty. How to do that?

I could take the spider-slider and a sample of those pictures we did together to school. That would give me a chance to demonstrate what my eight-legged artist and I achieved together. We could perform in front of Mrs. Chan and the whole class. That act would help me come out of this prison of my cocoon. What a great plan!

"Hey, beady-eyed buddy, you and I are going to make history tomorrow. Now, what do you think of that, little Splashy Slider?" I flicked his body with my fingers and sent him spinning on his thread. He must have been getting as dizzy as I was in thinking up this scheme.

Mrs. Chan appeared to welcome the idea when I came in carrying a large folder. Within were two pictures we had done recently and some blank sheets of art paper.

"So you come all prepared for art period today. That's a good sign, Ji-jing. What's that in your little box?"

I didn't open the lid, but instead put it in my desk, as if I did not hear her question. My action indicated the contents were for the art class. No words were needed, since I carried my tray of watercolors and put the parcel containing what she assumed were pictures against the wall by my desk.

Little did she know what was in the small box now safely in my desk. No one did. They wouldn't until the right moment. Won't they be surprised?

What I didn't plan was the big surprise fate had in store for me. It would almost dash all the grand plans that whirled around in my head for my classroom future. I was the one who would be most surprised at what took place next.

Bad joss comes in many forms and at the most inconvenient of times.

(c)copyright 2000 Beimers All rights reserved.

Click here to go forward to next page.


Click here to go backward to last page.

Click here to go backward to page 1.

CLICK HERE

This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page