We arrived at our new home today on the corner of 16th and Greenleaf Streets. What a dump. Back in Jersey we had this great old house with a fireplace and wood floors. There was a long driveway for skateboarding or bike riding, a big back yard with a garden and a plot of grass I could barely knock a baseball across. My room was big enough to fit a real electric train set, my bed, and have enough floor space to wrestle with Josh. This new place is a small three bedroom apartment. The stove is white and seems like it's plastic and the cupboards look like wood but feel like cardboard. There is no dining room, just a place for a small table. My parents rented a bunch of flimsy furniture that smells like a storeroom. I got a bunk-bed for some reason even though I don't have to share my room with anyone. Probably because they thought I'd think it was cool. And the whole place is carpeted. It reminds me of the Karate Kid's apartment when he moved to Reseda.
Across the street there's a huge sports field, as big as a whole block with tennis courts on the far side. You can tell the courts suck though because the nets sag in the middle and there's weeds growing out of cracks in the surface. This field and these courts are where the Trexler Middle School teams practice. Trexler Middle School is across the street on the corner of 15th and it's where I'll be going to 8th grade in a month or so. It's big and squat and looks like a place they might make door knobs.
For the past eight years I've gone to the same private school in Philadelphia. There were 12 kids in my class. Give or take a few tourists, my friends have been the same 12 kids for seven years. The school was "progressive" with a Quaker vibe. We didn't have tests. We called our teachers by their first names. I had Spanish every day since Kindergarten. We had geniuses like Danny Spielman who was so smart he had to go across the river to take math classes at U Penn. We also had retards like this kid Derrick who still couldn't read in the fourth grade. But we all learned together and never hated on anyone. That was a big thing there. The one time I pulled a prank on this girl who thought she was a mouse (I put a rubber snake in her cubby) it was like I killed a bunch of Jews. Everyone got along. In the eight years I went to that school I saw one fight. And I wasn't in it.
For the year Jen lived away from home, she went to some private school. I think my folks sent her there because since they weren't around they figured she should be somewhere you paid the teachers not to screw things up. Now that we're all here, she'll be enrolled at Central Catholic High. We're Jewish by the way, but it's where all the gymnasts go because the nuns let the girls out at one so they can go to practice.
I know exactly one girl who goes to Trexler. Her name is Jane and she's a gymnast. I don't really know her at all though because I don't go to the gym yet, but I know who she is and what she looks like. She's cute actually but she's not a very good gymnast. She's known for pulling a wide cowboy on her double backs and still landing on her head. She's also known for being a loudmouth. My sister likes her a lot and she's supposed to hang out with us some time before the first day of school.
From what my Mom tells me, none of the guys at the gym go to Trexler. Which means two things: 1) I will probably not know any guys on the first day of school and 2) I will probably be the only male gymnast at Trexler. Both of those things suck royally. Not that I know much about Allentown people, but not everybody thinks gymnastics is cool. Hell, I don't even think it's cool. I just do it because I've always done it and I'm pretty good at it. Tell your average 8th grade dude at Trexler Middle School that you don't play baseball or football or basketball because you do gymnastics and my guess is the word faggot is the first one that pops into their head. I could be wrong. I hope I'm wrong. But I just keep thinking I'm going to run into a homophobic band of redneck Cobra Kais. I know Allentown isn't Kentucky but it ain't South Jersey either.
We ate crappy chinese food tonight and watched TV on our rent-a-couch. My Dad isn't here. He's still in New Jersey. The house hasn't sold yet and it's easier for him to get to work from there than here. It's an hour and half drive to Philly each way from Allentown. It used to take him twenty minutes to get to work. Now he'll get home around 9 at night. My Mom talked to him on the phone from her room but the walls are so thin I could hear their conversation. I could practically hear what he was saying on the other end of the line. She sounded sad. I hate hearing that tone in my parents voice. Truthfully, it scares me.
I wanted to like this new apartment. I hoped something about it would be fun. But I doubt it will be. Nothing looks or feels like home. It's like I'm borrowing someone's life. Someone with a shitty bunk bed in a small apartment a block away from a door knob factory that doubles as a middle school. Jesus I hope there's cool kids here.
Monday, December 31, 2012
In the Blood
I don't remember when I started to do gymnastics which must mean I've been doing it a long time. It's always just been the thing I had to go to after school. I don't even remember learning how to do different tricks. Like back-handsprings on floor. Or giants on high bar. Or circles on pommel horse. I watch all the young kids in the gym getting frustrated trying to learn them and I know that must have been me at some point. But I don't remember it. I'm not a prodigy. I've never won a single meet. I've never even won an event at a meet. All my medals are the crappy colors you get when you place 2 through 10. I've just always been pretty good at gymnastics.
My sister is very good at gymnastics. She wanted to move to Allentown so she could be excellent at it. She has lots of gold medals and trophies. She has so many they're not even in her room anymore. They're in a box in the closet. Ever since she was 9 or 10 we've been travelling all over the country to watch her compete. We have pictures of us and all the other gymnastics families in places like Albuquerque, Atlanta, San Francisco. I'm the only brother that travels to these meets so I'm sort of like the little brother to the whole team. Before the competitions we usually go see the sights and buy souvenirs. There's a lot of pictures of me surrounded by girl gymnasts doing handstands and splits. I'm usually wearing something I "needed" like a dumb new cowboy hat or a pair of mocassins.
Jen will probably go to the Olympics. She wants to go, and she usually gets what she wants because she's got big giant balls so she'll probably go. Guys don't go to the Olympics until they're in college or after so I have a while to think about it. Some kids my age are thinking about it already though. 13 is when you start trying out for Junior National Team and supposedly Larry the coach wants me to train for it this year. I'll be at practice 6 days a week starting the day we get to Allentown. 6 to 9 at night, and 9 to 12 on Saturdays. No more tennis or diving for me anymore, either. Just gymnastics.
It's the first time I'll be working out with older guys too. I've seen the guys on Larry's team at meets. They're huge. They're men. Two of the guys have those ripped bicep/tricep combo packs that don't fit into normal t-shirts. One guy's name is Skip and the other is named Mike. They're not that good but they're strong as fuck. Ugly too. Pimples all over their cheeks and shoulders and Mike looks like someone smashed his face with a frying pan. He struts around meets like he's all that. A short, muscle-bound Fonzy in tights. Neither of them are on the National Team though. They're strong but they suck.
Larry's a big guy too. Probably 6 foot 2, 230. No way that dude was ever less than 180 and no way he ever did gymnastics. His legs are like trees. He can barely fit socks around the bottoms and he squishes his feet into these poor little trainers that look so sad and unlucky to have to be under this giant. He's also hairy as a Sasquatch with a shiny bald head. He has those long wisps of hair growing near his ears that curl around his dome like trained tape worms. He's got a temper too. He screams at his guys like a mother fucker and doesn't care who hears him. Spit flying, crazy curses, and the other coaches just smirk like, there goes ol' Larry again! I've never held up well under that kind of abuse so I either have to get on his good side fast or toughen up. It's hard to toughen up though when you just don't give a rat's ass.
That's my attitude talking. I do give a rat's ass. I just don't give as much of a rat's ass as the guys who win all the meets. I know them. I've been competing against them for years. They're stronger and faster and concentrate harder and fight more to do better than everyone else. You can see it in their eyes before they start their routines at meets. This look on their faces like they're going to eat the pommel horse. When they fall off they get mad and curse. They finish up and throw their grips in their bags like getting anything less than a gold medal is an epic fail. That's how my sister is too. She doesn't throw a fit, but she's got that look. She doesn't like to lose. I'm not like that. When I fall at a meet, I just get embarrassed. I want to apologize to the judge and my coach. I pray I won't fall again before the routine is over, so I won't be even more embarrassed. And nothing good ever came from trying to avoid embarrassment. Besides having avoided embarrassment, which no one ever notices.
My sister is very good at gymnastics. She wanted to move to Allentown so she could be excellent at it. She has lots of gold medals and trophies. She has so many they're not even in her room anymore. They're in a box in the closet. Ever since she was 9 or 10 we've been travelling all over the country to watch her compete. We have pictures of us and all the other gymnastics families in places like Albuquerque, Atlanta, San Francisco. I'm the only brother that travels to these meets so I'm sort of like the little brother to the whole team. Before the competitions we usually go see the sights and buy souvenirs. There's a lot of pictures of me surrounded by girl gymnasts doing handstands and splits. I'm usually wearing something I "needed" like a dumb new cowboy hat or a pair of mocassins.
Jen will probably go to the Olympics. She wants to go, and she usually gets what she wants because she's got big giant balls so she'll probably go. Guys don't go to the Olympics until they're in college or after so I have a while to think about it. Some kids my age are thinking about it already though. 13 is when you start trying out for Junior National Team and supposedly Larry the coach wants me to train for it this year. I'll be at practice 6 days a week starting the day we get to Allentown. 6 to 9 at night, and 9 to 12 on Saturdays. No more tennis or diving for me anymore, either. Just gymnastics.
It's the first time I'll be working out with older guys too. I've seen the guys on Larry's team at meets. They're huge. They're men. Two of the guys have those ripped bicep/tricep combo packs that don't fit into normal t-shirts. One guy's name is Skip and the other is named Mike. They're not that good but they're strong as fuck. Ugly too. Pimples all over their cheeks and shoulders and Mike looks like someone smashed his face with a frying pan. He struts around meets like he's all that. A short, muscle-bound Fonzy in tights. Neither of them are on the National Team though. They're strong but they suck.
Larry's a big guy too. Probably 6 foot 2, 230. No way that dude was ever less than 180 and no way he ever did gymnastics. His legs are like trees. He can barely fit socks around the bottoms and he squishes his feet into these poor little trainers that look so sad and unlucky to have to be under this giant. He's also hairy as a Sasquatch with a shiny bald head. He has those long wisps of hair growing near his ears that curl around his dome like trained tape worms. He's got a temper too. He screams at his guys like a mother fucker and doesn't care who hears him. Spit flying, crazy curses, and the other coaches just smirk like, there goes ol' Larry again! I've never held up well under that kind of abuse so I either have to get on his good side fast or toughen up. It's hard to toughen up though when you just don't give a rat's ass.
That's my attitude talking. I do give a rat's ass. I just don't give as much of a rat's ass as the guys who win all the meets. I know them. I've been competing against them for years. They're stronger and faster and concentrate harder and fight more to do better than everyone else. You can see it in their eyes before they start their routines at meets. This look on their faces like they're going to eat the pommel horse. When they fall off they get mad and curse. They finish up and throw their grips in their bags like getting anything less than a gold medal is an epic fail. That's how my sister is too. She doesn't throw a fit, but she's got that look. She doesn't like to lose. I'm not like that. When I fall at a meet, I just get embarrassed. I want to apologize to the judge and my coach. I pray I won't fall again before the routine is over, so I won't be even more embarrassed. And nothing good ever came from trying to avoid embarrassment. Besides having avoided embarrassment, which no one ever notices.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Make New Friends
It's July and my family is moving from New Jersey to Pennsylvania. Not a good part of Pennsylvania, like Philly, where there's South Street and cool stuff to do, but a place called Allentown. Y'know, the song by Billy Joel. Where they're closing all the factories down. All my friends are starting eighth grade next year and I'm moving to a new city where I have to make new friends. I hate making friends. I can't remember the last time I made a new friend. I've known the same people for the entire thirteen years of my life. The only people who like to make new friends are lame. They probably don't have a lot of friends to begin with so of course they want to make new ones. For that kind of person, it's more like make a friend, not new friends. Lame.
Actually, I do remember the last time I made a new friend. I was in 2nd grade. This guy who worked for my Dad named Bob had a son named Josh. Josh started to go to my school and because my Dad really thought Bob was like amazing, weird, super-smart guy, he wanted me and Josh to be friends. Bob was huge. He had this wild Santa Claus beard only it was brown and greasy. My Dad is a Pediatrician and Bob worked in his office with this beard on his face that always had bits of popcorn and random stuff in it. My Dad thought it was hilarious. I don't know how the people in his office felt since you expect Doctor's offices to be clean places, but my Dad thought it was the funniest thing. My Dad gives a shit, but he likes knowing people who don't. Bob taught himself how to do everything. Not just how to program a computer but how to make one from scratch. He was an insomniac and read all the time and my Dad started reading all the books Bob read. My Mom still read the book of the month club books with the hard shiny covers, but because of Bob, my Dad started calling those books "junk."
Bob also had rabbits. He raised them. All different kinds. And he drove this crappy little pick up truck that rusty dents all over it that also smelled like rabbits. So did his wife's car. In fact, they all smelled like rabbits. Bob, his wife, Josh, and even their little sister.
Bob also had rabbits. He raised them. All different kinds. And he drove this crappy little pick up truck that rusty dents all over it that also smelled like rabbits. So did his wife's car. In fact, they all smelled like rabbits. Bob, his wife, Josh, and even their little sister.
They were Jewish just like us, so even though they seemed very different I guess I thought they'd be kind of the same. They weren't. For one thing they didn't care about "stuff." Their cars were like generic "cars," and the furniture in their house was covered in blankets to hide the tears and stains in the fabric. Bob and Josh ate dog biscuits from a giant bag for a snack. They lit candles on Friday night and said a prayer in Hebrew before dinner. They all knew the words by heart. The only Hebrew I knew was the word "shalom" and a few funny yiddish phrases my grandmother still used.
Josh started to go to my school and since we lived nearby we began to carpool. The first day, when Josh got into our car, I could smell rabbit all over him. He even looked like he smelled like rabbit. His hair was long and scraggly and his clothes were all strange brands and yanked out of shape, like he'd been wrestling in them or something. I think he was even wearing sweat pants. We didn't really talk on the way to school, and my Mom's not the kind of lady who asks kids a lot of questions, not even me, so we weren't friends at all by the time we got to school, but I felt like I was supposed to show him around since I was the only one who knew him.
Josh started to go to my school and since we lived nearby we began to carpool. The first day, when Josh got into our car, I could smell rabbit all over him. He even looked like he smelled like rabbit. His hair was long and scraggly and his clothes were all strange brands and yanked out of shape, like he'd been wrestling in them or something. I think he was even wearing sweat pants. We didn't really talk on the way to school, and my Mom's not the kind of lady who asks kids a lot of questions, not even me, so we weren't friends at all by the time we got to school, but I felt like I was supposed to show him around since I was the only one who knew him.
He didn't want me to though, so he just did his thing. At the end of the day, I remember feeling bad that I hadn't done anything with Josh all day and that my Dad would find out and be pissed at me, but then Josh comes up to me and says, "my Mom's picking us up today. You want to come over and play?" I don't know why, but I never used the word play before. My friends didn't use it either, so it sounded so lame when he asked me and I felt bad for him. So to be nice, I said sure, even though I couldn't imagine what he meant by "play." Would we be "playing make believe?" Oy.
When we got back to his house, he got out paper and pens and wanted to draw. Again, this sounded so lame. Draw? With another kid? Or even by yourself. Drawing was for school, not home. I don't think we even had markers in my house. Just a bunch of ball point pens the drug companies gave my Dad. Well, Josh showed me how to make some funny cartoon characters and even had a book that showed you how to make superheroes just like the ones in comic books. The first drawing I ever made and wanted to keep was of Spiderman's nemesis, Kingpin. That day.
Then we threw the football around outside and took turns doing place kicks, trying to boot it over the telephone wire. I could do it. Josh couldn't, and I was worried he'd be all pissed off and throw a fit like my other friends, but he didn't care. Turned out "playing" was just hanging out and doing stuff, so even though I thought playing was for losers, it was really just the word I didn't like because we didn't say it at my house. What wasn't fun, was the wrestling. It was Josh's favorite thing to do and it almost made me not want to see him again. First of all, he smelled like a rabbit, He also knew all these special moves that hurt. I was stronger than him but he knew what he was doing and pinned me a bunch of times with my balls in my face. That's when I learned wrestling was for real. There are moves you have to learn and get good at. Like gymnastics. Which is the sport I do.
Then we threw the football around outside and took turns doing place kicks, trying to boot it over the telephone wire. I could do it. Josh couldn't, and I was worried he'd be all pissed off and throw a fit like my other friends, but he didn't care. Turned out "playing" was just hanging out and doing stuff, so even though I thought playing was for losers, it was really just the word I didn't like because we didn't say it at my house. What wasn't fun, was the wrestling. It was Josh's favorite thing to do and it almost made me not want to see him again. First of all, he smelled like a rabbit, He also knew all these special moves that hurt. I was stronger than him but he knew what he was doing and pinned me a bunch of times with my balls in my face. That's when I learned wrestling was for real. There are moves you have to learn and get good at. Like gymnastics. Which is the sport I do.
Gymnastics is also the reason we're moving to Allentown. There's this great gym up there and my sister left home to train there about a year ago. My folks and I drive two hours every Sunday to visit her. We get crappy Chinese food and listen to her talk about her life. She likes the gym, school is okay, but the house she lives in sucks. The lady is a single mom named Beth who's apparently an anorexic and a super christian. She also has a son who's younger than me, has some kind of learning disability and is a real pain in the ass. My sister doesn't like me a ton so I can't imagine how annoying it must be to live with a spaz like him in a stranger's house. When we leave after dinner, my sister tries not to cry. This was her decision after all. But she looks sadder than I've ever seen her before. My parents aren't happy with the situation so they decided to move up there.
I'm going to start doing gymnastics at this gym too. The girls' side is called Parkettes and recently, they added a boys gym called Gymnastrum. It's a huge place, much nicer than the gym I was going to before. I've been there for competitions a few times and it looks like a National Training Center or a Gym at a college. The boys team coach is named Larry Moyer. When I was eight, I went to a sleepover gymnastics camp that he ran and met all these famous gymnasts he'd coached. He's a big deal and I'm supposed to think I'm lucky to be coached by him now. But there's rumors about him too. Everyone says he's gay, which I don't give a shit about. But they also say he's messed around with some of the kids on the team. I'm not worried about that either. But he better keep his fat hairy hands to himself.
I'm going to start doing gymnastics at this gym too. The girls' side is called Parkettes and recently, they added a boys gym called Gymnastrum. It's a huge place, much nicer than the gym I was going to before. I've been there for competitions a few times and it looks like a National Training Center or a Gym at a college. The boys team coach is named Larry Moyer. When I was eight, I went to a sleepover gymnastics camp that he ran and met all these famous gymnasts he'd coached. He's a big deal and I'm supposed to think I'm lucky to be coached by him now. But there's rumors about him too. Everyone says he's gay, which I don't give a shit about. But they also say he's messed around with some of the kids on the team. I'm not worried about that either. But he better keep his fat hairy hands to himself.
I'll miss Josh the most. We became best friends ever since that first day of 2nd grade. We did everything together. I rode my bike to his house all the time. We played night tag when I slept over. He took me sailing on his trimaran. His Dad once gave us a can of beer. I got to know his rabbits. I even ate one once, with pasta and tomato sauce. It was good.
But it turned out that Bob wasn't such a great guy after all. He was really smart, but he was also a liar. He told my dad he had a degree and he didn't. So my Dad had to fire him. Josh and I stayed friends though. My dad's new friend didn't work out but mine did. But now that we're moving to Allentown, I have to start all over.
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Seventh grade ended with a dance on Friday night. All the eighth graders were there too, including Danielle and Keisha. At first it was weird being at school at night. With the lights dimmed, it felt like we weren't supposed to be there. During the day, it's bright and colorful and all the tables and chairs and blackboards are being used for things they're supposed to be used for. But at night, with Top 40 music blasting out of a boombox, it felt like we were trespassing.
There was a bowl of punch, and a bowl of chips. The area we usually have our meetings in the morning was cleared away so we could dance and someone hung a disco ball from the ceiling. For the longest time the no one would dance. Music played and the white lights circled around the room. The 7th and 8th grade girls talked in the corner. The 8th grade boys stood apart from the 7th grade boys. We all just hung out doing nothing. Then Danielle and Keisha, two eighth grade girls started to dance and everything changed. They're the best looking girls in the school by far and both take dance classes so they looked normal out there and everyone watched.
I go to a really small school. There's only 12 kids in my class and I've known them all since Kindergarten. But as small as the school is, kids from different grades don't really hang out together. So even though I know Danielle and Keisha I don't really know them. They're definitely older girls. Just like the eighth grade boys are older boys and you don't mess with them.
After we watched Danielle and Keisha dance for a while, I thought I caught Danielle looking at me. Usually when I get the feeling a girl likes me, it doesn't bug me too much but when she looked at me and smiled, I couldn't think straight. All I could do was think about dancing with her but I couldn't get my feet to move me onto the dance floor. I like to dance. My sister taught me all kinds of dance moves when I was a little kid and I can still do most of them so I'm not embarrassed to dance or anything, but with Danielle out there moving around, I just couldn't do it. But I couldn't look away either.
Eventually I wound up dancing in a big circle with the other seventh graders and after a few songs, I noticed I was standing closer to Danielle, then she was facing more towards me, then we finally faced each other and were dancing together. We never talked at all before and didn't talk then either, but we were definitely dancing together now. We would do each other's moves and smile and then look away and keep dancing. I would try a move and if I did it right, I'd look to make sure she saw it and she always did. We didn't touch or hold hands or anything but we were definitely dancing together. No doubt about it.
Then a slow song came on. Total Eclipse of the Heart by Bonnie Tyler. I know it's cheesy but for some reason that song has always fucked me up. I've never danced to a slow song but I know what you're supposed to do. I saw Darren put his hands on Lauren's hips and Lauren put her arms on Darren's shoulders. The same happened with Josh and Karen. Then Danielle just put her hands on my neck. Not on my shoulders but clasped around my neck. Her arms were bent too, which brought me close to her. I put my hands on her hips and they were much softer than I thought they'd be. Halfway through the song, she hugged me and we rocked back and forth until the song ended. I could hear her whispering the lyrics, like she was singing them to me. Her boobs slid back and forth over my chest. It was crazy.
Later, before I went back to Darren's house for the night, Danielle asked me to sign her graduation yearbook. I wrote that I'd miss her and wished her luck, then gave her the book back. Then she kissed me. On the mouth. Her lips were open and her breath was hot. I could taste her. It was the first time I ever tasted someone. It wasn't like I expected. It didn't taste like anything I'd ever tasted before. Somewhere between meat and candy. But girl flavor is good. After the kiss was over, I had no idea what to say but she's older and didn't seem weirded out by it. She just smiled and said goodbye. That was that. I left with Darren and we walked the six blocks back to his house.
I didn't talk to Darren about dancing with Danielle or the kiss. We don't talk about girls. I don't talk about girls with anyone actually. But I'm starting to think about them more. Next year, I think Karen from my class is going to be my girlfriend.
There was a bowl of punch, and a bowl of chips. The area we usually have our meetings in the morning was cleared away so we could dance and someone hung a disco ball from the ceiling. For the longest time the no one would dance. Music played and the white lights circled around the room. The 7th and 8th grade girls talked in the corner. The 8th grade boys stood apart from the 7th grade boys. We all just hung out doing nothing. Then Danielle and Keisha, two eighth grade girls started to dance and everything changed. They're the best looking girls in the school by far and both take dance classes so they looked normal out there and everyone watched.
I go to a really small school. There's only 12 kids in my class and I've known them all since Kindergarten. But as small as the school is, kids from different grades don't really hang out together. So even though I know Danielle and Keisha I don't really know them. They're definitely older girls. Just like the eighth grade boys are older boys and you don't mess with them.
After we watched Danielle and Keisha dance for a while, I thought I caught Danielle looking at me. Usually when I get the feeling a girl likes me, it doesn't bug me too much but when she looked at me and smiled, I couldn't think straight. All I could do was think about dancing with her but I couldn't get my feet to move me onto the dance floor. I like to dance. My sister taught me all kinds of dance moves when I was a little kid and I can still do most of them so I'm not embarrassed to dance or anything, but with Danielle out there moving around, I just couldn't do it. But I couldn't look away either.
Eventually I wound up dancing in a big circle with the other seventh graders and after a few songs, I noticed I was standing closer to Danielle, then she was facing more towards me, then we finally faced each other and were dancing together. We never talked at all before and didn't talk then either, but we were definitely dancing together now. We would do each other's moves and smile and then look away and keep dancing. I would try a move and if I did it right, I'd look to make sure she saw it and she always did. We didn't touch or hold hands or anything but we were definitely dancing together. No doubt about it.
Then a slow song came on. Total Eclipse of the Heart by Bonnie Tyler. I know it's cheesy but for some reason that song has always fucked me up. I've never danced to a slow song but I know what you're supposed to do. I saw Darren put his hands on Lauren's hips and Lauren put her arms on Darren's shoulders. The same happened with Josh and Karen. Then Danielle just put her hands on my neck. Not on my shoulders but clasped around my neck. Her arms were bent too, which brought me close to her. I put my hands on her hips and they were much softer than I thought they'd be. Halfway through the song, she hugged me and we rocked back and forth until the song ended. I could hear her whispering the lyrics, like she was singing them to me. Her boobs slid back and forth over my chest. It was crazy.
Later, before I went back to Darren's house for the night, Danielle asked me to sign her graduation yearbook. I wrote that I'd miss her and wished her luck, then gave her the book back. Then she kissed me. On the mouth. Her lips were open and her breath was hot. I could taste her. It was the first time I ever tasted someone. It wasn't like I expected. It didn't taste like anything I'd ever tasted before. Somewhere between meat and candy. But girl flavor is good. After the kiss was over, I had no idea what to say but she's older and didn't seem weirded out by it. She just smiled and said goodbye. That was that. I left with Darren and we walked the six blocks back to his house.
I didn't talk to Darren about dancing with Danielle or the kiss. We don't talk about girls. I don't talk about girls with anyone actually. But I'm starting to think about them more. Next year, I think Karen from my class is going to be my girlfriend.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)