it off Main Street.
Jeremy smiled, teeth yellow in the streetlights, then took her by the arm and led her back into the shadows. He kissed her, more roughly this time. He had just a little bit of fuzz on his chin, not enough to shave but enough to tickle. She giggled, and in her fright, the sound came out like the whinny of a sick horse.
"Mmm, you're going to enjoy this," Jeremy said.
If only she could believe it. She closed her eyes, hoping it wouldn't hurt. If she didn't watch, maybe she could pretend it wasn't happening. His fingers fumbled at the buttons of her blouse.
One undone, two, then his hand cold on her stomach. She giggled again, but this time no sound came. Why couldn't she breathe? This was supposed to be fun, all the girls said so. Relax and let it happen, everybody said.
Everybody's doing it.
Why couldn't she believe it?
Kate opened her eyes and saw that the moon had slid so far down the sky that only a nip of it hung above the concrete horizon. The moon was sinking too fast, its arc accelerating with her heartbeat. She didn’t know what to do with her hands. She decided that holding on would be best. She couldn’t hold on to the things inside, so she grabbed Jeremy’s shoulders and squeezed hard enough for him to yelp in surprise.
"Take it easy," he said. "It won’t hurt a bit."
Mom had explained to Kate about the moon and womanhood and the bleeding that made girls into women. Kate had never bled that way, and Mom said maybe she never would because she was the heart of the moon. The Makers weren’t like normal people, though they had to walk among them, go to school, eat, and sleep. And fall in love.
That was the meanest part. Moonbeam queens should never have to love normal people, because normal people couldn’t understand the job of making the world work. Makers brought sunshine and rain, and Kate wished she could tell all her friends about her job dragging the moon, because then she’d be cool and popular and Jeremy would probably hang out with her even without the stuff he was doing now.
He had the front of her shirt open and the night air was cool on her skin. She looked down at her own paleness, her belly slightly rounded like the moon. He kissed her neck. She could tell he’d had lots of practice, smooth moves, making her feel as special as he’d made all the others feel. His hands were crawling again, quick as spiders.
She twisted and writhed, summoned air into her frozen lungs. "Jeremy."
"Mmmm," he said. "That’s right, baby. That’s good."
Baby . Mom said these things caused babies—
"I’m still not ready. Can we just hold hands for a little while?"
"This is the night, honey." His voice slid off the brick walls and clattered around the gutter pipes and fire escapes. "The one we’ve both been waiting for."
His hands moved again, to the back pockets of her jeans, then quick around to the button. Jeremy seemed to have eight hands and three mouths, and she was lost, not knowing which sensation to focus on. He had somehow nudged and shifted her until they were deeper in shadows, and she lost sight of the moon.
Kate found herself on her back, in the scratchy stretch of what had once been landscaping. The bones of dead shrubs surrounded them and the sounds of the street blended into a rough and distant whisper. Brick walls rose above her, windows black and rectangular, the tops of the buildings wore blue haloes of halogen light. Jeremy pressed on top of her, warm and strong and confident, an animal in its natural habitat.
But Kate was cut off from her own habitat. She couldn’t track the moon, had no way of knowing whether it was on the horizon or over Japan, or whether it had completely slipped its tethers and drifted toward the black sea of deep space. She tried to sit up, but Jeremy was all over, his own shirt gone, and her bare belly sizzled with his heat. His hands moved over her again, and part of her wanted to surrender to their gentle roughness.
"Jeremy, I’ve
Jeremy smiled, teeth yellow in the streetlights, then took her by the arm and led her back into the shadows. He kissed her, more roughly this time. He had just a little bit of fuzz on his chin, not enough to shave but enough to tickle. She giggled, and in her fright, the sound came out like the whinny of a sick horse.
"Mmm, you're going to enjoy this," Jeremy said.
If only she could believe it. She closed her eyes, hoping it wouldn't hurt. If she didn't watch, maybe she could pretend it wasn't happening. His fingers fumbled at the buttons of her blouse.
One undone, two, then his hand cold on her stomach. She giggled again, but this time no sound came. Why couldn't she breathe? This was supposed to be fun, all the girls said so. Relax and let it happen, everybody said.
Everybody's doing it.
Why couldn't she believe it?
Kate opened her eyes and saw that the moon had slid so far down the sky that only a nip of it hung above the concrete horizon. The moon was sinking too fast, its arc accelerating with her heartbeat. She didn’t know what to do with her hands. She decided that holding on would be best. She couldn’t hold on to the things inside, so she grabbed Jeremy’s shoulders and squeezed hard enough for him to yelp in surprise.
"Take it easy," he said. "It won’t hurt a bit."
Mom had explained to Kate about the moon and womanhood and the bleeding that made girls into women. Kate had never bled that way, and Mom said maybe she never would because she was the heart of the moon. The Makers weren’t like normal people, though they had to walk among them, go to school, eat, and sleep. And fall in love.
That was the meanest part. Moonbeam queens should never have to love normal people, because normal people couldn’t understand the job of making the world work. Makers brought sunshine and rain, and Kate wished she could tell all her friends about her job dragging the moon, because then she’d be cool and popular and Jeremy would probably hang out with her even without the stuff he was doing now.
He had the front of her shirt open and the night air was cool on her skin. She looked down at her own paleness, her belly slightly rounded like the moon. He kissed her neck. She could tell he’d had lots of practice, smooth moves, making her feel as special as he’d made all the others feel. His hands were crawling again, quick as spiders.
She twisted and writhed, summoned air into her frozen lungs. "Jeremy."
"Mmmm," he said. "That’s right, baby. That’s good."
Baby . Mom said these things caused babies—
"I’m still not ready. Can we just hold hands for a little while?"
"This is the night, honey." His voice slid off the brick walls and clattered around the gutter pipes and fire escapes. "The one we’ve both been waiting for."
His hands moved again, to the back pockets of her jeans, then quick around to the button. Jeremy seemed to have eight hands and three mouths, and she was lost, not knowing which sensation to focus on. He had somehow nudged and shifted her until they were deeper in shadows, and she lost sight of the moon.
Kate found herself on her back, in the scratchy stretch of what had once been landscaping. The bones of dead shrubs surrounded them and the sounds of the street blended into a rough and distant whisper. Brick walls rose above her, windows black and rectangular, the tops of the buildings wore blue haloes of halogen light. Jeremy pressed on top of her, warm and strong and confident, an animal in its natural habitat.
But Kate was cut off from her own habitat. She couldn’t track the moon, had no way of knowing whether it was on the horizon or over Japan, or whether it had completely slipped its tethers and drifted toward the black sea of deep space. She tried to sit up, but Jeremy was all over, his own shirt gone, and her bare belly sizzled with his heat. His hands moved over her again, and part of her wanted to surrender to their gentle roughness.
"Jeremy, I’ve
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