my head. “Plaid’s a good color.”
“Is this, so, are you okay? With … this? Because …”
“Shhh,” I answered, his answer, because I really was, I was okay with it and wanted to stay in that moment as long as possible. I didn’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to experience it. I watched his eyes close again as his slightly smiling mouth met mine. He turned out the light, and then I felt his hand soft on my back again in the dark.
Soon, I’m not sure quite how, we were lying down together in the dark, private, secret night on his bed. His pillow smelled warm, slightly sweaty, and very, just, boy . I was starting to shiver a tiny bit, though, whether from fear or cold or something else entirely, I am not sure. He pulled up his nubby blue blanket on top of us.
We smiled a little at each other between kisses, our eyes closing, our fingers tentatively touching each other’s faces, necks, collarbones, shoulders …
“Don’t fall asleep,” Kevin whispered.
“Mmm,” I agreed, and pressed myself closer to him.
A minute later, it felt like, a knock pounded at his door. I fell off Kevin’s bed onto the floor behind it.
I was instantly more awake than I’d ever been before, there in Kevin’s bedroom in the glinting gold light of morning.
Knock, knock, knock.
eighteen
THE DOORKNOB TURNED and jiggled. Hearing it, I flattened myself on the floor.
Locked.
I thanked every god that had ever been worshipped.
Kevin cursed under his breath.
“Kevin?” Joe said through the mercifully closed door. “It’s seven fifteen. You better get a move on or you’ll be late for school!”
“Yeah, Dad!” Kevin barked back, not looking at me but throwing his blanket on top of my flat, quivering self. “On it.”
As Joe’s footsteps clomped toward my room with its open door and its lack of me in it, I could feel my eyes trying to pop themselves out of my skull. I sat slowly, silently up, crumpling the blue blanket in my lap but ready to flop back down under it if Joe stormed back toward us after finding me missing and, like, kicked in Kevin’s door or something.
My life used to be completely plain and unappreciatedly boring. A morning trauma before all this was running out of Crispix.
From behind the bed I looked up at Kevin, not caring how wild-eyed and muss-headed I looked. Like it or not, we were in this mess together. We needed a plan, and quick.
Joe was down the hall, knocking on my door. “Charlie?” he called at my empty room. “Hey, Charlie?”
Finally, Kevin turned to me. I expected a mirror of my bat-crazy scared face, but he was smiling instead, his eyes sleepy but his mouth amused.
“We’re so busted,” he whispered to me, and then bolted out of his bed toward his door, his father’s footsteps coming at us fast.
“Hey,” I started to object, but when his hand hit the doorknob, I flopped down flat on the floor instead.
After he slipped out into the hall, closing the door behind him and convincing his father he was starving and in need of emergency poached eggs on an English muffin, Kevin went to the bathroom. I could hear him in there. How grossly intimate.
I took a few seconds to gather myself and then tiptoed to the door. No sounds out in the hall. I kept listening. Nothing. I opened the door a crack.
Samantha was in the hall outside the bathroom, reading a book, waiting. She looked up and smiled at me. “Hi, Charlie,” she said.
“Oh,” I answered. “Hi.”
She watched me walk past her from her brother’s room to my own. I closed the door behind me and wilted against it.
I had to wait for Kevin and then Samantha to get through with the bathroom before I could get in there. Breakfast was another fabulous episode of Charlie Collins, This Is Your Very Odd Life , full of not making eye contact and lumps of granola drowning in yogurt.
Joe poured me a big glass of juice, and said, “Pulp Lovers!”
He held out his fist for me to bump. “Yeah, Pulp Lovers.” I
“Is this, so, are you okay? With … this? Because …”
“Shhh,” I answered, his answer, because I really was, I was okay with it and wanted to stay in that moment as long as possible. I didn’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to experience it. I watched his eyes close again as his slightly smiling mouth met mine. He turned out the light, and then I felt his hand soft on my back again in the dark.
Soon, I’m not sure quite how, we were lying down together in the dark, private, secret night on his bed. His pillow smelled warm, slightly sweaty, and very, just, boy . I was starting to shiver a tiny bit, though, whether from fear or cold or something else entirely, I am not sure. He pulled up his nubby blue blanket on top of us.
We smiled a little at each other between kisses, our eyes closing, our fingers tentatively touching each other’s faces, necks, collarbones, shoulders …
“Don’t fall asleep,” Kevin whispered.
“Mmm,” I agreed, and pressed myself closer to him.
A minute later, it felt like, a knock pounded at his door. I fell off Kevin’s bed onto the floor behind it.
I was instantly more awake than I’d ever been before, there in Kevin’s bedroom in the glinting gold light of morning.
Knock, knock, knock.
eighteen
THE DOORKNOB TURNED and jiggled. Hearing it, I flattened myself on the floor.
Locked.
I thanked every god that had ever been worshipped.
Kevin cursed under his breath.
“Kevin?” Joe said through the mercifully closed door. “It’s seven fifteen. You better get a move on or you’ll be late for school!”
“Yeah, Dad!” Kevin barked back, not looking at me but throwing his blanket on top of my flat, quivering self. “On it.”
As Joe’s footsteps clomped toward my room with its open door and its lack of me in it, I could feel my eyes trying to pop themselves out of my skull. I sat slowly, silently up, crumpling the blue blanket in my lap but ready to flop back down under it if Joe stormed back toward us after finding me missing and, like, kicked in Kevin’s door or something.
My life used to be completely plain and unappreciatedly boring. A morning trauma before all this was running out of Crispix.
From behind the bed I looked up at Kevin, not caring how wild-eyed and muss-headed I looked. Like it or not, we were in this mess together. We needed a plan, and quick.
Joe was down the hall, knocking on my door. “Charlie?” he called at my empty room. “Hey, Charlie?”
Finally, Kevin turned to me. I expected a mirror of my bat-crazy scared face, but he was smiling instead, his eyes sleepy but his mouth amused.
“We’re so busted,” he whispered to me, and then bolted out of his bed toward his door, his father’s footsteps coming at us fast.
“Hey,” I started to object, but when his hand hit the doorknob, I flopped down flat on the floor instead.
After he slipped out into the hall, closing the door behind him and convincing his father he was starving and in need of emergency poached eggs on an English muffin, Kevin went to the bathroom. I could hear him in there. How grossly intimate.
I took a few seconds to gather myself and then tiptoed to the door. No sounds out in the hall. I kept listening. Nothing. I opened the door a crack.
Samantha was in the hall outside the bathroom, reading a book, waiting. She looked up and smiled at me. “Hi, Charlie,” she said.
“Oh,” I answered. “Hi.”
She watched me walk past her from her brother’s room to my own. I closed the door behind me and wilted against it.
I had to wait for Kevin and then Samantha to get through with the bathroom before I could get in there. Breakfast was another fabulous episode of Charlie Collins, This Is Your Very Odd Life , full of not making eye contact and lumps of granola drowning in yogurt.
Joe poured me a big glass of juice, and said, “Pulp Lovers!”
He held out his fist for me to bump. “Yeah, Pulp Lovers.” I
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