knew?
“I’m Mason.” His voice was gravelly, as if maybe he had a sore throat.
“Mason.” She tried it out. She’d never known anyone named Mason.
“Mason McKittrick.”
McKittrick . Miri tried to hide her disappointment. He wasn’t Jewish. Irene wouldn’t approve. Okay, she wouldn’t tell her. She wouldn’t tell anyone. He would be another of her secrets. She was beginning to enjoy having secrets from her family.
While Natalie danced to every song with Winky Herkovitz, the best dancer in ninth grade, who dipped her, flipped her from knee to knee and twirled her, while Suzanne, the shiksa the Jewish boysloved, danced to every song with a different partner, while Eleanor, who still had braces on her teeth and refused to smile for photos, had a deep conversation with a chaperone, a teacher Uncle Henry’s age and Robo, well developed and athletic, made out in the cloakroom with Pete Wolf, who believed in Martians, Miri danced only with Mason.
After a while he led her outside so he could have a smoke. She’d been right. He did smoke, and his brand was Luckies. Lucky Strike Means Fine Tobacco . He offered one to her. She shook her head. She’d tried it once and had almost choked to death. Almost vomited in front of everyone. But she liked the way he held the cigarette between his teeth. When he’d had enough he tossed it to the ground and stepped on it, crushing it like a bug.
He kissed her then, outside the Y in the freezing-cold December night air, with neither of them wearing a coat. Her teeth were chattering but she wasn’t going to suggest they go back inside, not as long as he was holding her that way, not as long as he was kissing her that way and she was kissing him back. They kissed a second time and her legs turned to jelly. She’d heard that expression a million times, but until now she hadn’t understood it. She’d never been kissed by a boy like Mason. No sloppy tongue shoved halfway down her throat, no washing out her ear. Just perfect kisses. Two, three, four—she lost count. If she died then she was sure she’d die happy.
They went back inside for the last dance. The lights had been dimmed and she and Mason danced cheek to cheek, thanks to her mother’s heels, their arms wrapped around one another. In the meadow we can build a snowman… She was glad it wasn’t “Goodnight, Irene,” often the last song at a dance. She loved her grandmother but she didn’t want to think about her tonight.
“Can I walk you home?” Mason asked while they, and everyone else, scrambled for their coats.
Miri nodded. “I just have to tell my friends.”
Outside, Robo’s father was waiting for them. The girls had already piled into the car. “I’m walking home with Mason,” she told them.
“Who’s Mason?” Natalie asked.
“The boy I’ve been dancing with, the one from your party…remember?”
“Yeah, but who is he?” Natalie said while the other girls hung on every word.
“Mason McKittrick. He goes to Jefferson,” Miri said. “He knows Steve.”
All this time Mason was standing next to her, listening. “Hey…” he said, giving a small wave to her friends.
“Where does he live?” Natalie asked, ignoring Mason.
Miri didn’t know where he lived or why it mattered.
“I live on Salem,” Mason said. Then he whispered to Miri, but loud enough for the others to hear, “They don’t trust me.”
“They don’t know you,” Miri told him.
Robo said, “As soon as we get home I’ll have my father call your mother so she doesn’t worry.”
“No, don’t do that,” Miri said. “I’ll call her myself.”
She borrowed a nickel from Mason and used the pay phone inside the Y.
Rusty answered on the second ring. “I’m walking home from the Y, okay?”
“I thought Robo’s father was picking you up.”
“He is, but I’d rather walk home.” She knew Rusty was waiting for more. “With a very nice boy,” she added. “You don’t have to worry.”
“Okay,” Rusty
“I’m Mason.” His voice was gravelly, as if maybe he had a sore throat.
“Mason.” She tried it out. She’d never known anyone named Mason.
“Mason McKittrick.”
McKittrick . Miri tried to hide her disappointment. He wasn’t Jewish. Irene wouldn’t approve. Okay, she wouldn’t tell her. She wouldn’t tell anyone. He would be another of her secrets. She was beginning to enjoy having secrets from her family.
While Natalie danced to every song with Winky Herkovitz, the best dancer in ninth grade, who dipped her, flipped her from knee to knee and twirled her, while Suzanne, the shiksa the Jewish boysloved, danced to every song with a different partner, while Eleanor, who still had braces on her teeth and refused to smile for photos, had a deep conversation with a chaperone, a teacher Uncle Henry’s age and Robo, well developed and athletic, made out in the cloakroom with Pete Wolf, who believed in Martians, Miri danced only with Mason.
After a while he led her outside so he could have a smoke. She’d been right. He did smoke, and his brand was Luckies. Lucky Strike Means Fine Tobacco . He offered one to her. She shook her head. She’d tried it once and had almost choked to death. Almost vomited in front of everyone. But she liked the way he held the cigarette between his teeth. When he’d had enough he tossed it to the ground and stepped on it, crushing it like a bug.
He kissed her then, outside the Y in the freezing-cold December night air, with neither of them wearing a coat. Her teeth were chattering but she wasn’t going to suggest they go back inside, not as long as he was holding her that way, not as long as he was kissing her that way and she was kissing him back. They kissed a second time and her legs turned to jelly. She’d heard that expression a million times, but until now she hadn’t understood it. She’d never been kissed by a boy like Mason. No sloppy tongue shoved halfway down her throat, no washing out her ear. Just perfect kisses. Two, three, four—she lost count. If she died then she was sure she’d die happy.
They went back inside for the last dance. The lights had been dimmed and she and Mason danced cheek to cheek, thanks to her mother’s heels, their arms wrapped around one another. In the meadow we can build a snowman… She was glad it wasn’t “Goodnight, Irene,” often the last song at a dance. She loved her grandmother but she didn’t want to think about her tonight.
“Can I walk you home?” Mason asked while they, and everyone else, scrambled for their coats.
Miri nodded. “I just have to tell my friends.”
Outside, Robo’s father was waiting for them. The girls had already piled into the car. “I’m walking home with Mason,” she told them.
“Who’s Mason?” Natalie asked.
“The boy I’ve been dancing with, the one from your party…remember?”
“Yeah, but who is he?” Natalie said while the other girls hung on every word.
“Mason McKittrick. He goes to Jefferson,” Miri said. “He knows Steve.”
All this time Mason was standing next to her, listening. “Hey…” he said, giving a small wave to her friends.
“Where does he live?” Natalie asked, ignoring Mason.
Miri didn’t know where he lived or why it mattered.
“I live on Salem,” Mason said. Then he whispered to Miri, but loud enough for the others to hear, “They don’t trust me.”
“They don’t know you,” Miri told him.
Robo said, “As soon as we get home I’ll have my father call your mother so she doesn’t worry.”
“No, don’t do that,” Miri said. “I’ll call her myself.”
She borrowed a nickel from Mason and used the pay phone inside the Y.
Rusty answered on the second ring. “I’m walking home from the Y, okay?”
“I thought Robo’s father was picking you up.”
“He is, but I’d rather walk home.” She knew Rusty was waiting for more. “With a very nice boy,” she added. “You don’t have to worry.”
“Okay,” Rusty
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