how second base led to my first boyfriend

The air was thick with pollen suspended in the rays of the setting sun. The sweet smell of barbecue settled inside my nose. Fireworks fizzled and popped around the neighborhood. Summer was coming to a close.

“Guys, guess what?” RJ cackled, his voice a rusty razor.

“What?” Alex asked.

“Last week, in the pool, Noreen let me feel her up!”

“Did not!” I defended, smacking at RJ’s face but only grazing his grime-encrusted neck.

“You know you did. You sat on my lap in the kiddie pool and I reached up and tweaked your nipples.”

“Cool!” Alex pumped his fist at RJ in approval.

“Liar!” I screeched.

“Nuh uh! I pinched ‘em, and you let me.” RJ maneuvered his fingers like he was turning the dial on a car radio.

“They’re big and hard like dice. And then you let me squeeze your boobs. They felt smooshy like a roll of Charmin. Oh, man….” He opened and closed his fists just inches in front of my breasts.

“Stop it!” I shouted, swatting away his sweaty palms.

“Come on. Gimme another squeeze!”

As RJ lurched at my chest, Steve stepped in front of me and pushed RJ’s pudgy little frame into a parked car.

“Ow!”

“Leave her alone, fuck face,” Steve commanded as he saddled up to me.

“You okay?” he asked, flashing deep dimples at me. I wanted to push my pinky into them and see how far in I’d get.

“Uh huh,” I squeaked, as Steve slid his arm around my shoulder. Was this really happening? The only other time a boy had put his arm around me was in a football huddle.

Warmth spread out through my shoulders and oozed down my body like melting chocolate.

Steve pulled me closer to him, and I cuddled into the crook of his arm. I had to suppress a giggle of glee as I realized how perfectly we fit together. He was just the right height for me to comfortably rest my head on his shoulder. Should I do that now? Would it be weird to walk that way? How about my arms? Should I throw my right arm behind his back and let it rest on his hip? I scanned the streets for couples, hoping for a clue as to what to do next. But we weren’t a couple, were we?

Moisture collected on my skin like the sweat from a soda can. Could he feel it? Would he pull away in disgust? I began to breathe like a woman in labor, keeping my arms rigid at my sides so I didn’t screw this up.

“You’re a liar, and you know it!” RJ’s Doritos breath was back in my face. I huddled closer to Steve’s chest.

“I’m not gonna tell you again. Leave her alone.”

Steve grabbed RJ’s collar with his free hand and shook it hard. He didn’t even break his stride or lessen the pressure of his arm on my now-soaked shoulder. RJ sulked and mumbled, dropping back behind us and snickering to Alex, who was enjoying the spectacle.

I glanced at Steve, reassured by his wide smile and the heat of his body against mine, making me feel feverish. I knew, in that instant, that he would be my first boyfriend.

The thing is, I had let RJ feel my boobs in the pool. I don’t know why. I hadn’t even kissed a boy, and yet I had let this crusty little creeton feel me up. RJ was almost two years younger than me, and a whole head shorter. Did that make me a pervert? If word got around that I had let RJ touch me, I feared that mothers everywhere would clutch their young sons to them, terrified of the dangerous older lady who wanted to look at their sons’ boy parts. I had to keep this under wraps.

It had started innocently enough. RJ and I were wrestling in the kiddie pool, and he suddenly pulled me onto his lap. I could hear a wheeze in his chest, and I asked if he needed his inhaler.
“Nah. I’m cool,” he insisted, taking a deep breath. “Let’s just rest for a minute.”

We floated like that for a while, and I felt the weight of his hands like pockets on my hips. His fingers slowly inched their way towards my waist and waited there. I rested my palms over his hands, wondering where they would go next. His fingers crawled up my ribcage like caterpillars, and my hands went limp and floated lifeless to the surface of the pool. I stared straight ahead and held my breath, blinking away the blinding glare of the sun reflecting off the water. I pretended it wasn’t happening, waiting to see how far RJ would go, and wondering why I wasn’t stopping him.

A little girl drifted by on a raft that looked like a dragon. Wet pigtails dripped above both of her ears, and she flashed a wide grin at me. I flushed with shame. Did she suspect our underwater activity? How could I set such a horrible example for the children in the kiddie pool? I should be banned from the pool forever. What was wrong with me? My Catholic school training had been complete. At this stage, I should be screaming rape and bending RJ’s fingers backwards while chanting Hail Mary’s. But a burning sensation below my belly button said, wait. Now, just what is this?

RJ’s fingertips grazed over my nipples, almost accidentally. I felt something poking me in the back like a billy club, and realized it was his erection. When I didn’t react by wrenching off his penis and tossing it into the deep end of the pool, RJ became more brazen. He poked my nipples with his fingertips, as if checking to see if they would bite. The sounds of splashing and laughter faded into the distance. My heart thump-thump-thumped in my ears as electricity rippled through me.

My nipples fought against the fabric of my bathing suit as RJ pinched them. It hurt, almost, but in a way that wasn’t quite pain. He finally cupped both of my breasts in his pudgy bear claws and pulled me tighter towards him. A tormented moan escaped his lips. My brain felt like cotton candy and I had trouble focusing my eyes. I was certainly destined for hell.

And that’s when I saw him. The lifeguard was poised in his tower, biting his whistle between his teeth. He was glaring directly at us and reaching for his megaphone. His toned and tanned chest glistened with sweat. Bicep muscles bulged as he slowly brought the megaphone to his sun-chapped lips. My sexual deviance was about to be broadcast to everyone. I would be chased out of the pool, pelted with nose plugs and goggles, while mothers covered their children’s eyes from my hardened-nipple shame. I tried to pry RJ’s hands off of my breasts, but they were crazy-glued to my bathing suit.

Three sharp whistles assaulted my ears as a sudden wave knocked me off RJ’s lap. I slipped underneath the surface, sucking in chlorinated water and sputtering like Dad’s old Chevy. A bony elbow rammed into my throat as a talon-like toenail tore into my shin. Not knowing which death would be worse – one of shame or the other of drowning in a four-foot deep kiddie pool – I resurfaced and greedily sucked in air, ready for my public execution.

“Out of the pool! Now!” the lifeguard barked, pointing angrily. I shielded my eyes from the white sun spots dancing in front of me and stared at RJ’s mammoth back.

“No cannonballs in the kiddie pool. You three – out now!”

I looked to my right and saw three sunburned boys holding their reddened bellies and spitting water at one another. RJ waded breathlessly in the water, his chest rising and falling with effort, waiting for me to return.

What had I done? I awoke from my nipple-pinching stupor, doggie paddled my way over to the ladder and pulled myself out of the pool. My legs felt like licorice as I sprinted to the shaded safety of my towel. I hid behind my wet bangs, waiting for the revving of my heart to slow down and settle back into my chest.

RJ shifted uncomfortably in the kiddie pool, surveying his surroundings. When he was finally able to get out of the pool, he lumbered over to his mother and huddled close to her lounge chair. I watched as she patted his back and handed him his inhaler. RJ shook his inhaler and took two long pulls from it, waiting for the air to enter his lungs. His mother looked concerned, as the inhaler didn’t seem to be working.

“Come on, breathe!” I whispered from my towel, wondering if I had just killed RJ. Could the excitement of fondling real breasts have caused his lungs to seize up? Having just had my first remotely sensual encounter, I wasn’t certain of my own power.

Finally, the color returned to RJ’s cheeks and I sighed a deep breath of relief. His mother handed him a soda and a sandwich, and he bit into the bread greedily. I was happy to see that my breasts had not produced fatal effects.

It happened a week after Steve had defended my honor against RJ. Steve and I walked to the playground in the bright midday sun. His arm brushed up against mine. It felt like a thousand ladybugs crawling up and down my arms.

“Wanna sit on the swings?” he suggested.

“Okay.”

We approached the swings in the shapes of animals that I had been riding on since birth. There were four – the caterpillar, the squirrel, the bird and the skunk. As kids, we would race to the swings, trying to reach our favorite animal first. No one ever wanted to sit on the skunk. It was always empty, unless some unsuspecting new kid came to the park and made the mistake of sitting on it. Then, the rest of us would shun the new kid, insisting he smelled like farts for having sat on the stinky skunk.

“Which one’s your favorite?” Steve asked as we approached the swings.
“The caterpillar,” I responded reflexively, wishing I could suck the syllables back down my throat the minute they reached the air. I was 14! I wasn’t supposed to have a favorite swing. Was this a trick question? Was Steve trying to decide if I was mature enough to be girlfriend material?

“Mine too!” he responded.

Steve was 15, and was about to be a sophomore at the boys’ prep school a few blocks from my high school. He knew about cool – he smoked and played guitar. If the caterpillar was good with him, then I was in.

“Yeah, caterpillars are cool. Cause they change, you know? Become something beautiful,” he explained.

“Butterflies,” I nodded, blushing at having stated the obvious.

“Exactly! Wow. We have so much in common. We really think alike.” He smiled into my face and his dimples deepened.

Steve held onto the chain of the caterpillar swing and helped me onto it. I straddled the caterpillar and rocked it back and forth, unsure of what else to do.

“The bird is my second favorite, but I’ll sit on the squirrel to be close to you,” Steve said as he lowered himself onto the squirrel. The eyes of the caterpillar seemed to wink at the squirrel. I wondered how many times they had witnessed this.

Steve licked his lips and leaned off of his squirrel towards my caterpillar. This was it! He was about to give me my first kiss. My body tensed as questions ricocheted around my brain: When was I supposed to close my eyes? How was my breath? What did I do with my hands? Was I supposed to make any sounds, like the moaning and grunting on late-night cable movies? And what was I supposed to do with my tongue? I closed my eyes as the warmth of Steve’s breath floated out to me.

For years, I had daydreamed about my first kiss. It went like this: a faceless boy and I were walking alone in the woods. It was fall. Apple-colored leaves were drifting down from the trees, crunching under our feet. Birds chirped and butterflies flitted about. A cool breeze rocked the branches, and I shivered with a chill. The boy removed his heather-gray wool sweater, and slipped it over my head. It smelled like wood shavings, and I snuggled into its warmth. My hair was bouncy and perfect. My skin shone like porcelain. He rested his hands on my shapely hips and drew me in to him. His lips were soft and his mouth was juicy like a plum. His hands cradled my face, and my fingers met behind his neck. We kissed in the middle of the woods for an eternity, until a park ranger came and told us to mosey on along. It was perfection.

Steve’s teeth bouncing off my own brought me back into my body.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“It was my fault. Let’s try again,” Steve offered as my heart drag-raced inside my chest.

I opened my mouth wide as if I were about to have my teeth cleaned. His cold tongue poked around the inside of my dry mouth, testing the water. It felt like a giant wad of bubblegum. Steve tasted like watermelon jolly ranchers, sticky sweet. His head rolled back and forth as his tongue searched out my tonsils.

I tried to keep my tongue and my teeth to myself, afraid I’d accidentally bite the tip of his tongue off. Steve’s hands were resting on my thighs. My palms ached from gripping the chain of the caterpillar. Holding my breath, I counted the seconds and tried hard not to laugh at what suddenly seemed so ridiculous. Kissing was no longer a mystery. And I wasn’t even sure if I liked it.

I was grateful for my first kiss to be out of the way, but I had expected more. Steve’s tongue jamming past my teeth felt like an invasion of privacy. There was no ripple in my belly and no music in the trees. It was just me, sitting on a caterpillar waiting for the oral excursion to be over.

Mister Softee’s ice cream truck rumbled up the street, manic music blaring out of his speaker. Children shouted and begged for money from their mothers, feet pounding the pavement as they raced toward the truck. For the first time, I realized we were not alone in the playground, and I pulled free of the suction from Steve’s vacuum kiss.

Steve’s lips made a wet smacking sound. He nodded his head with confidence, waiting to hear what I had to say.

“Thanks?” I offered, not sure what the proper response was to my first actual kiss.

“No. Thank you!”

Steve wiped his mouth on the back of his arm, nuzzled into my neck and kissed me softly. There it was! The tingle in my tummy that I had been craving all along. I wondered if there was something wrong with me. What if my mouth was desensitized and the only way I ever got the ripple feeling was to convince Steve to nibble on my neck? That is, assuming Steve wanted any part of my anatomy ever again.

Steve took out a pack of Marlboro Lights and shook a cigarette free.

“You want?” he offered.

I shook my head. First, I had let a boy feel me up. Then I had let Steve put his tongue in my mouth. I was growing up too fast. Who knew what else I was capable of if I allowed myself to smoke?

“So? Wanna go with me?” Steve asked as he sucked on his cigarette, looking like he already knew the answer.

“Sure!”

I bounced off the caterpillar and had to restrain myself from doing a cartwheel. A boy actually wanted to be my boyfriend. He wanted me to be his girlfriend. I was going to start high school with a boyfriend, as someone’s girlfriend. A mushroom cloud of nuclear waste could not have erased the smile from my face.

“Cool. Let’s get some ice cream. My treat.”

Steve stood up and laced his fingers through mine, leading me towards Mister Softee. My head swiveled like a lighthouse light, spreading my smile in every direction. I wanted as many people as possible to witness my new status as a girlfriend.

“What’s your favorite?” Steve asked as we stood on line behind mothers and their whiny children.

“Chocolate with chocolate sprinkles,” I said, holding tight to his hand.

“Mine, too! Wanna split a double cone?” Steve suggested.

I had always wanted a double cone, but I had never had anyone to share it with before. I had always envied couples that split double cones, taking turns licking the melting ice cream and wiping sprinkles off of each others’ chins. I now had someone to wipe my chin! I couldn’t think of anything more romantic.

Steve held out the chocolate with chocolate sprinkles double cone. I dipped my mouth into the coldness, hoping to get some sprinkles somewhere on my face. Feeling an ice cream moustache on my upper lip, I batted my eyes at Steve. His tongue poked out of his mouth and licked the ice cream off of my lip. Bees buzzed inside of my head, and I felt faint.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered into my ear.

“I am?”

No one had ever told me that before. Sister Roberta had once said I had beautiful penmanship, but that wasn’t the same thing.

“Yes, you are.”

“I like your dimples,” I responded, kissing each dimple quickly.

“I like your lips,” he kissed my lips and pushed his tongue back inside my mouth. My legs felt woozy beneath me. I wished I still had the caterpillar beneath me for support. Kissing while standing seemed a little problematic. I could see while people preferred to do it lying down

“I like your hair.”

Steve looked confused. I didn’t know what else to say. His tongue in my mouth had taken away my good sense.

“It’s really – curly,” I added.

“Thanks.”

We walked towards my house, holding hands and taking turns licking the melting cone. My temples began to pound, either from brain freeze or the extra-wide smile plastered to my face.
We stopped in front of my house, the last bite of our cone stuck in my throat. Other couples might have “a song”, but Steve and I had “a cone”. I could never again eat a chocolate cone with chocolate sprinkles without thinking of him.

“I’ll call you tonight, girlfriend.”

“Okay, boyfriend,” I beamed. I had just called someone my boyfriend! I bit the inside of my lip to keep from laughing.

Steve’s eyes focused on mine. He lowered his head and my eyes fluttered shut. My lips parted slightly. I was determined to get this open-mouthed kiss right.

A loud “thwack” stopped us both in our lust-filled tracks. I looked up at my window on the second floor. Erin was standing in the window, in her underwear, banging on the glass. At 6-years-old, we could not keep clothing on Erin. The second she entered the apartment, she stripped down to her skivvies and stayed like that. She repeatedly banged on the glass, jumping up and down like a monkey.

“Ma!!!” I could hear her ear-splitting shout through the pane glass. “I’m telling Mommy!”

“I gotta go!” I sprinted up the steps away from Steve. I had to get to my mother before Erin did.

“Sorry!” I shouted over my shoulder.

“Call you later,” Steve called out.

“Why are you screaming like that?” I heard my mother walking down the hall towards Erin.
I wasn’t too late! I would get to tell my mother before Erin did.

“Get out of that window with no clothes on! What’s the matter with you? You want the whole neighborhood to see you like that?”

“I don’t care,” Erin answered.

“I know you don’t, but I do. Out of the window. Now!”

I rushed breathlessly into the living room as Mom was scooping Erin out of the window.

“Mom,” I gasped.

“What?”

“Mommy, guess what I just saw Noreen doing?”

“What?

“Shut up, Erin.”

“Don’t tell your sister to shut up,” Mom admonished.

“Mommy, Noreen was….”

“Boogedy boogedy boo!” I shouted at Erin.

“No! No! Please! Mommy, hold me!” Erin clung to my mother’s neck, terror freezing her face and stealing her words.

Boogedy boogedy boo brought out the Boogey Man. Chris and I would routinely lock Erin in the bathroom with the light off and chant “boogedy boogedy boo”, which would make him appear to her. We usually reserved this tactic for times when Erin was bugging us, or was about to tattle something that Mom absolutely could not know. It worked better than any bribe we could ever concoct.

“Noreen! Why do you insist on torturing your sister? What did you do that you don’t want me to know about?” she asked, trying not to be suffocated by Erin’s death grip around her neck.

“I didn’t do anything,” I shouted over Erin’s wailing. “But I need to tell you something.”

“Get your sister to stop screaming, please! I can’t hear myself think.”

“Come on, boogedy boogedy boo. Time for you to go. Leave Erin alone.”

I opened the door and shooed the Boogey Man out of the apartment. Erin watched through her fingers as hiccups shook her skinny little body.

“Okay, he’s gone,” I assured her, shutting the door and turning all the locks.

“You sure?” she asked, still clinging to Mom’s throat.

“Yes, I’m sure. Just don’t make me call him back,” I threatened.

“No, don’t. I promise. You won’t have to call him back.”

“Okay, no more B-Man,” I said, handing over her favorite teddy bear.

Erin squeezed the teddy bear and wiggled free of Mom’s arms.

“Put some clothes on,” Mom shouted after her.

“No!” she screamed, running down the hall to our room.

“Why do you do that to your sister? Her screaming is like knives in my ears.”

“Steve is my boyfriend,” I exhaled it all out before losing my nerve.

“What? Since when?” Mom scanned the room nervously for her cigarettes.

“Since now. Today. He just asked me.”

“Don’t you think you’re too young for a boyfriend?”

“Are you kidding? All of my friends have had boyfriends since sixth grade. I was the only one who had never been kissed.”

“Whaddya mean ‘was’? Has that changed?” Mom’s nostrils flared like a bull’s.

I smirked and shrugged my shoulders coyly.

“So, what? You’re kissing now?”

“Yeah, I’m kissing now.”

“Oh, boy. Oh, Jesus!”

“What’s the big deal? He’s my boyfriend. It’s not like I’m gonna get pregnant.”

“Why would you say such a thing? What do you know about getting pregnant?” Mom had located her cigarettes, but was still searching for her lighter. The cigarette trembled between her lips, having its own nervous breakdown.

“Enough to know that kissing won’t lead to a baby.”

“No, but it can lead to other things,” she whispered ominously.

“What other things?” I tested.

I had once asked Mom about sex after I started hearing rumblings about it at school. Her face had turned gray and her eyes glazed over. Her only words about sex had been: “You don’t do it until you’re married.” I had had to rely on friends and scrambled cable channels to teach me the rest.
“Like, like….” Mom stuttered nervously. “Like you know what. Don’t get smart with me.”

“I’m not! I just wanna know.”

“What does this mean? He’s your boyfriend?” Mom spit out the word “boyfriend” as if it were a piece of rancid meat in her mouth.

“I don’t know. He’s my boyfriend. I’m his girlfriend. We do things together.”

“What things?”

“Movies, parties, stuff like that I guess. It’s my first day as a girlfriend. Give me a break!”

“I don’t know, Noreen. You’re going to have to tell your father about this. See what he says.”

I hadn’t really thought about that. Dad was at work so often, I figured he didn’t need to know about it. I didn’t want to give Mom any hint of weakness on my part, so I feigned bravery and smiled.

“Fine,” I nodded.

“Does Steve’s mother know about this?” Mom asked calmly, having found her lighter. Smoke blew out of her nose as she exhaled deeply.

“I don’t know. It just happened now.”

“Well, maybe I should call her and we can talk about it?”

“Don’t you dare! Talk about what? We’re not planning a wedding.”

“God forbid! Don’t even joke about such things.” Mom’s hand clutched her chest.

“Just trust me, okay? Don’t call his mom. Please.” I begged, wondering if a boyfriend was really worth all of this trouble. After about six seconds of deliberation, I decided it was.

“All right. But behave yourself. And tell your father. Tonight!”

“Thanks, Mom!” I pecked her cheek and ran into the bedroom, where I proceeded to call everyone I knew to spread the news. Of course, I may have fudged some of the details of the kiss, but wasn’t that part of the fun of having a boyfriend - telling not entirely true details to your girlfriends?

“His tongue tasted like honey.”

“That kiss was the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt!” “Fireworks went off in my stomach.”

“He said he thinks he could marry me.”

“It was just what I always dreamed it would be. Better.”

After the hours of phone conversations had ended, I waited nervously for Dad to come home. He had been working for two days straight, with probably an hour or two of sleep stolen somewhere along the way. This could either work for or against me. Sometimes he came home so exhausted that he passed out on the couch fully dressed without eating a bite. Other nights, he came home cranky and cross, with a few Budweisers floating around in his belly. On those nights, we tiptoed around him, not wanting him to bark out complaints at us.

When I finally heard his key turning in the lock around nine o’clock, I sat frozen in my room. Should I attack him with the news before he had a chance to settle in, or ply him with Budweiser and spaghetti, getting him good and sleepy first? I glanced over at Erin, asleep in the bottom bunk. At least I wouldn’t have to contend with her snitching. I decided to wait it out in my room for a while.

Apparently, I waited longer than a while. Dad’s snores sounded like waves pounding the shore in the living room. I tiptoed into the living room, where Dad was marooned on the couch. His mouth was open wide enough for me to count his silver fillings. The remote control was tucked into the waistband of his pajamas, and the Honeymooners was on TV. A half-eaten bowl of spaghetti sat next to an empty Bud on the side table. It was now or never.

“Dad?” I whispered, barely loud enough to hear myself.

“Dad. Wake up,” I said slightly louder, pushing my pointer finger into his cheek.
Thunderous grunts and groans rolled out of his throat. His lips smacked together as if he still tasted the spaghetti sauce that dotted his white undershirt.

“Dad!” I shouted. “I have to tell you something. Dad!”

“Wha?” he shouted back, not quite opening his eyes.

“Are you awake?”

“Yeah, what?”

“Open your eyes.”

“I don’t wanna. Whaddya want?”

“I have to tell you something.”

“Go ‘head.”

“Are you listening?”

“Yeah. I’m listenin’.”

“But your eyes aren’t open.”

“My eyes don’t have anything to do with my ears. Whaddya want?”

“Steve asked me to be his girlfriend.”

No movement from Dad. His breathing started to deepen and I thought he had fallen back asleep.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yeah. Steve’s your boyfriend.”

“That’s right. Well?”

“Well, what?”

“What do you think?”

“I think I need some sleep before I have to get back up and go to work.” His eyes were still sealed shut.

“No. What do you think about me and Steve?”

“You and Steve? Yeah. Good for you.”

“That’s all?”

“What else do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. I just thought….”

“If you don’t let me get some sleep, I might have something else to say about it.”

“Okay. Good night!”

“Night,” Dad mumbled before the rumble of his snores took over again.

I did it! Racing back to my room, I shut the door just as my phone started to ring. I picked it up before Dad heard it and reconsidered his position on my dating life.

“Hello?” I whispered into the phone.

“Hi, it’s me,” Steve answered. We were already at the place in our relationship where he referred to himself as “me”! I couldn’t believe how well this was all going.

“Hi. What are you doing?”

“Nothing. I have a surprise for you.”

“What kind of surprise?” I asked.

“Close your eyes,” Steve demanded.

“Why?”

“Just close your eyes and listen. Please?”

“Okay,” I sighed, lying down with my eyes closed and the phone pressed against my ear.The tinny noise of a guitar being tuned floated over the phone. Then, Steve broke into a familiar heavy metal tune with his guitar. I squealed into my pillow, dazed by my very first serenade. It was almost better than getting my first kiss.

I listened breathlessly for a full four minutes. When the song ended, I could hear Steve panting on the other end.

“Well? What did you think?” Steve asked breathlessly.

“Def Leppard?” I guessed.

“No! I wrote that. I wrote it for you, baby.”

He wrote me a song! And he called me baby! I couldn’t believe this was all happening.

“I loved it. I really really loved it. I can’t believe you wrote that for me.”

“Yeah. I worked on it for hours. It’s called ‘Double Cone’. I’ll never play it for anyone but you.”

“Do you mean that?” I swooned.

“Just for you.”

“Noreen! Is that you still on the phone?” Mom called from the kitchen.

“No!” I lied.

“Well, hang it up. Now.”

“Sorry. I gotta go.” I sighed to Steve.

“Wait. Don’t hang up the phone. Let’s fall asleep together,” Steve suggested.

“Reall”

“Yeah. Let’s just keep the phones by our heads on the pillow. That way we can say we slept together.” Steve chuckled into the phone.

“Okay. Good night, Steve. Thank you for my song.”

“Thanks for being my girlfriend.”

“Thanks for asking me to be your girlfriend.”

“Thanks for saying yes.”

“You’re welcome,” I relented, realizing the gratitude could go on all night.

“Night.”

“Night.”

“Noreen,” Dad called to me as he stood next to my top bunk.

My neck hurt from falling asleep with the phone pressed up against my ear. I rolled over to Dad, blinking into the darkness.

“Dad? What’s wrong?” I grumbled.

“Just cause I was half asleep when you talked to me doesn’t me I didn’t hear you.”

“Oh. Okay.”
“I’m not thrilled about you having a boyfriend, but I know Steve and he seems like a nice kid.”

“He is. He really really is, Dad.”

At that moment, I wanted to tell him about our double cone and about my song. But mostly, I wanted to tell him how Steve had called me beautiful.

“Yeah, I know that. But even nice kids can forget themselves. So, be careful. And make sure he treats you right.”

“I will.”

“All right. That’s all I wanted to say.”

“Okay.”

“Go back to sleep. I gotta get to work.”

“Bye.”

“See ya later.”

I lay awake in bed, reviewing the events of the day. In the past, if I had wanted to let a boy know I liked him, I would crank call his house and disguise my voice.

“Noreen likes you,” I would whisper into the phone as Felix or Todd or Keith picked up.

“What? Who is this?” they would respond. I would then hang up the phone and wait for their return call, proclaiming their love for me. I reasoned that they just needed some prodding, and once they knew I felt that way about them, their romantic feelings for me would blossom. I even enlisted Erin’s help, though I never told her whom she was calling. A six-year-old could not be trusted with secrets of the heart.

Erin did a great Freddy Krueger impersonation. I would dial the number, and she would mumble in a deep, guttural voice, “Noreen likes you,” and I would slam the phone down. If she even looked like she might tattle, I would simply whisper, “Boogedy,” and she would run screaming out of the room.

The phone would always ring right after the call. I would let it ring a few times before answering.

“Hello?” I would grunt, disguising my voice with sleep.

“Hey. Did you just call here?” Felix or Todd or Keith would ask.

“What? No. I was sleeping. Why?” I quizzed groggily.
“No reason. Thought it might have been you.”
For some reason, this technique had never succeeded in snagging me a boyfriend.
My underwater groping with a 12-year-old toad had, however, eventually led to my first love. I couldn’t figure out the way the world worked, but I was happy with the results. Maybe Dad was right. Maybe everything did happen for a reason. Maybe I had participated in slightly slutty behavior so that Steve and I could have our very own cone. Maybe RJ’s grimy little fingers pinching my nipples were the price I had to pay for starting high school with a boyfriend. I replayed Steve’s guitar solo in my head and let the memory of the day fade as I fell back asleep.