LITMIR.BIZ

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history between myself and Carlo.

      “So what’s so special about Jeremy?”

      “Well, for starters, I’ve known him since sixth grade,” I said. I reached into my purse and removed a tissue to dab at a spot of moisture that had formed on my nose.

      “Really? You didn’t tell me that part.”

      “Are you sure? I thought I had.”

      “No, you didn’t.” Lauren appeared to be saddened that I had not shared more of my history with Jeremy with her.

      “Come on. I’ll tell you about it once we find a seat.” The auditorium had three large seating sections—on the right, center and left side. The stage was shaped like a hexagon, which meant that no matter where we sat, the view would be excellent. Since seating arrangements were not assigned, we were free to sit wherever we wanted. We decided to sit in the center section in row fifteen, which was right in the middle of the section. We took off our coats and draped them over the backs of our seats. Once we were situated, I looked around again for Jeremy. I heard a chorus of conversations that hung in the air as more concertgoers entered the auditorium, but I did not spot Jeremy.

      “Do you see him yet?” Lauren asked.

      “No, not yet,” I said, frowning.

      “He’ll show up.” Lauren sensed that I had grown impatient as she settled into her seat.

      “I hope so. I really want to get his attention. I really want him to notice me,” I said, wondering if I was foolishly setting myself up for a big letdown.

      “Sit down and finish telling me about how you guys met in sixth grade.”

      I sighed and then sat down. I uncoiled my scarf from around my neck and placed it across my lap. I recalled the many changes and interests that began to bloom like tulips in the spring when I was in junior high school.

      “In sixth grade, I suddenly found boys to be fascinating. I found that I wanted to be around them and be treated like a girl instead of one of the guys. Jeremy was cute and he was a star on the basketball courts. Everybody loved him. He was funny, he dressed nicely and he didn’t smell like funky sneakers.” Lauren reached over and touched my hand, which caused me to pause.

      “What?” I asked, feeling as if something was wrong.

      “It’s funny that you mentioned guys and smells. It brought back a memory for me. When I was in sixth grade, there was a boy who liked me. His name was Mark and he smelled like a skunk.” Lauren’s expression soured like milk that had curdled.

      “Really? It was that bad?” I asked.

      “Girl, every day he came to school smelling like he had peed on himself or someone had peed on him.”

      “Gross!” I raised my eyebrows into an expression of disbelief.

      “I’m serious. Nobody wanted to sit next to him because his body odor was so foul. Anyway, he had the audacity to approach me one day on the school yard. When I saw him coming, I cringed at the sight of his square head, chapped lips and goldfish eyes. He also had bushy eyebrows that reminded me of Frankenstein. Creepy was his first name and Weird was his last.”

      “Gross!” I said again as a visual of what he looked like formed in my mind.

      “What did he want?” I pried more than I really wanted to.

      “Girl, to ask me if I thought he was cute.”

      “Seriously?”

      “That boy didn’t have any sense whatsoever,” Lauren said.

      “What did you say to him?”

      “I was really mean. I told him that I thought a dead animal on the highway was cuter than he was.”

      “That was mean, but funny,” I said.

      “I’m sorry. I threw you off track. Finish telling me about Jeremy,” Lauren apologized.

      “Well, he was nothing like Mark, that’s for sure. Jeremy sat next to me in class. One day he asked for permission to go to the bathroom. Once he’d stepped away I wrote him a note, folded it up and placed it on his seat.”

      “What did your note say?” Lauren leaned close to me so that she wouldn’t miss a word I said.

      “It said, ‘Do you think Anna Rogers is cute? If so, fake a cough when you read this,’” I explained.

      “Did he cough after he read the note?”

      “Like he smoked cigarettes every day,” I said proudly. “Anyway, after school I lingered around to see if he would approach me.”

      “Did he?” Lauren asked. I could tell that she was analyzing everything I was telling her.

      “Yes,” I answered.

      “What did he say?” Lauren hung on my every word.

      “He asked if I had left the note on his seat. I told him yes, and he then asked if I thought he was cute.”

      “Duh! That’s why you left the note.” Lauren added her own commentary to the moment.

      “I will admit that was a dumb question for him to ask, but I didn’t give him a hard time about it. Then I asked him if he would like to kiss me.”

      “You had to ask? He didn’t just do it?” Lauren asked.

      “No. He wasn’t that kind of boy. He had to be coached. I liked that about him,” I said.

      “I see.”

      “Anyway, he said that he wanted to kiss, but not out in the open where everyone would see us. So we walked behind the school, out of sight from the teachers and other students. I will admit that I didn’t know much about kissing. The only information I had in my head was what I had seen on television. I couldn’t wait until I got my first kiss from a boy who wasn’t my father or grandfather. They always kissed me on the cheek or forehead. Anyway, when the big moment came I improvised. I tried to act like a mature girl, but not like a girl who did this sort of thing all the time. I pressed my back against one of the rear doors of the school and clutched my books to my chest. I didn’t want him to get carried away and attempt to feel my breasts, which was something boys were notorious for at my school. I shut my eyes tightly, puckered my lips and waited. He pressed his lips against mine and moved away so quickly I wasn’t even sure if I’d been kissed. The kiss felt like the padding of a fingertip pressing against my lips. When I opened my eyes, he had a strange expression on his face as if he was trying to figure out a difficult math problem. I don’t know what I expected when I opened my eyes, but I’m certain it wasn’t the confused expression that I saw.”

      “What happened after that?” Lauren asked.

      “The bewildered look on his face freaked me out. I thought something was wrong with me. I pushed him away and ran.”

      “Wow,” Lauren said.

      “It was a really weird moment.”

      “Didn’t you see him again at school?” Lauren asked.

      “Yes,” I said.

      “What did he say?”

      “He said that it was the first time he had ever kissed a girl who wasn’t his mom and that he thought he’d done something wrong because I closed my eyes tight like I was expecting a punch. He said that he thought once our lips met, my eyes were supposed to open, and when they didn’t he thought he’d messed up the kiss. He asked for another chance but it was too late by that point. I told him to forget the kiss ever happened. When I rejected him I knew that I’d hurt his feelings, although I could tell he was trying not to let it show. Anyway, by eighth grade, enough time had come to pass since the kiss and he and I became friends. We hung out a few times and even went to a school dance together, only as friends, though. When he had questions about girls, I gladly answered them and even told him

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