I felt like the luckiest kid in ninth grade. My friends Alf and Clark came over every night, eager to celebrate my newfound freedom. We watched hours of TV, we blended milkshakes by the gallon, we gorged on Pop-tarts and pizza bagels until we made ourselves sick. We played marathon games of Risk and Monopoly that dragged on for days and always ended with one angry loser flipping the board off the table. We argued about music and movies; we had passionate debates over who would win in a brawl: Rocky Balboa or Freddy Krueger? Bruce Springsteen or Billy Joel? ... Every night felt like a slumber party and I remember thinking the good times would never end. But then Playboy published the Wheel of Fortune hostess Vanna White, I fell head over heels in love, and everything started to change.