First Kiss
Posted on: May 1, 2014
Jenna told her father that she had band practice after school, so he didn’t need to pick her up until five o’clock. When the bell rings at 3:30, she makes a beeline for the girls’ bathroom and changes into a black miniskirt, fishnets, and knee-high combat boots that she borrowed from Liz. She’s too young and excited to realize that her outfit doesn’t make her adolescent body look any older. There’s something about being thirteen that makes you feel invincible. You got your period, you shop in the Juniors’ department, and boys look at your butt instead of throwing footballs at your head. She even has a grown-up haircut, stacked short in the back and long in the front, framing her face nicely apart from the acne chin-strap left in its wake.
Jenna coats her lips with Cherry Coke flavored Lip Smackers and puckers up for her reflection. She’s about to meet up with Kevin Peeler, a high schooler three years older than her. They exchanged screen names at a band competition a few months ago and would chat late at night about Buffy and the latest Final Fantasy. She must have filled up three notebooks of sappy love poetry and name-change drills as Jenna Peeler. When Kevin asked her via instant message if she wanted to hang out by the soccer field sometime, he didn’t hear her fall out of her chair and scream into the carpet with delight. All he read was, “Sounds kewl.”
Jenna walks out of West River Middle School, navigating through a sea of her peers gawking after her. The whispers fuel her giddiness and propel her forward down the path that leads to the recreational fields. She forgets to pop a Tic Tac as she concentrates on acting cool and mature for her age. Kevin’s already sitting on one of the bleachers when she approaches, wearing black jeans and a matching long-sleeve thermal. His nails are freshly Sharpied and he’s wearing the spiked dog collar he told her about last night. Jenna cannot stand how hot he looks right now.
“Hey, Kevin.”
“Nice boots. Knee-highs are sexy.”
“Umm, thanks.”
She wishes her skirt had pockets right about now, but decides to fiddle with her bookbag straps. Her stomach hurts and if this doesn’t go well, she’s totally going to have stress-induced diarrhea.
“Sit with me. Put your bookbag down.”
“Okay.”
“You’re super shy in person. Don’t tell me you’re a poser?”
“Sorry.”
“Nah, it’s cool. So, I was playing FF7 last night and I finally got to the part where Sephiroth just goes total beast mode.”
“Omigosh, that’s so cool! I actually drew you a picture of him.”
She pulls out her binder and removes the sketch from a clear sheet protector, handing it to Kevin and smiling.
“Jenna, this is really good. Like his sword and eyes are perfect.”
She might piss her fishnets, she can’t believe how nice he’s being to her. He’s so freaking cool. His eyes are the deepest blue and his hair is spiked up just right. Jenna’s cheeks are getting hot and she’s trying not to breathe so fast.
“C’mere,” Kevin says, taking her hand.
She tries to straddle the bleacher without him seeing her granny panties, and their knees touch. Jenna’s head is spinning and she really doesn’t know what she’ll do if he kisses her. Before she knows it, his lips are on hers and his tongue is in her mouth. She feels awkward, wishing it was as easy as it looks in Disney movies. She’d spent so much time daydreaming about this moment, so many nights staring into the dark wondering what it would be like to have a hand behind her head and pulled into a kiss.
But it’s not what she was expecting. She realizes now as the romantic stupor wears away that he has braces and they’re catching her tongue. There are crumbs in his mouth from something he ate earlier and she’s pretty sure it was pizza and cookies. Instead of her gothic Prince Charming, all she sees is a sixteen year old boy who probably makes out with his pillow. Her first kiss is the most disgusting thing she has ever experienced. She can’t take it back. She can’t press rewind. This is it. Jenna lied to her dad for this.
When Kevin pulls away, he’s grinning like Sloth from the Goonies and rubbing her thighs with his hands. Jenna notices two small streaks of pizza sauce on the corners of his mouth. She offers a courtesy smile and then stands up, pulling her bookbag onto her shoulder.
“I should go,” she says. “My dad’s probably waiting for me.”
“Chat later?” he asks.
“Yeah, sure.”
Jenna walks away from the bleachers and back toward school, spitting every few steps as if it will help. Her fishnet stockings are starting to sag and that straddle left her with a wedgie she wasn’t willing to adjust with her back facing Kevin. It’s 4:35 as she walks up the sidewalk, and her dad’s here early. She gets in from the passenger side and sighs, hugging her bookbag to her chest.
“And how was your day?”
“It was okay, I guess,” Jenna says.
“Uh huh. Did you have an accident?”
“What are you talking about, Dad?”
Jenna’s annoyed, just wanting to go home and hide in her room for the rest of the school year.
“Well, you were wearing some really nice khakis this morning…”
Her eyes widen and she covers her face with her hands before turning to look at him.
“Dad, I can explain. I spilled my Powerade at lunch and Liz had extra clothes in her locker...”
“Those are clothes?”
“Daaaaaaaaaad-uh!”
When they get home, Jenna fights the gravity of disappointment as she climbs the stairs to her bedroom. She shuts the door behind her and leans back, making eye contact with Leo DiCaprio on the poster above her bed. Jenna closes her eyes and smiles. There’s still hope.
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light of the world
Posted on: February 25, 2013
Ryan is on fire for the Lord. We’re sixteen, and it's the
dawn of the new millennium. We meet in our community theatre's production of The
King and I. Ryan is tall and gels the front
of his hair. He used to be home schooled, but now he goes to public school,
which is full of sin but is also a good place for spreading the Word. Ryan
carries around two books with him at all times: a pocket-sized NIV New
Testament and a graph paper notebook where he writes memory verses and
inspiring song lyrics. He plays the guitar. I, as it happens, love boys who
play the guitar.
Doing community theatre isn't really about acting. It isn't
about lights in your eyes or the thrill of applause. It's about the secret
space that surrounds the play: unsupervised downtime. We spend most of this
downtime in the parking lot behind the theatre. No one is up to anything, and
yet, we are up to everything.
Where else, in a town like ours, can you wear a ball gown and sit in the
dark with the boy you like, hoping his knee will touch yours and he'll tell you
the sensitive secrets of his soul? It’s a misplaced prom dream for the meek and
lowly.
In real life, I am chubby and awkward with the requisite
braces and glasses and hair that really shouldn't have been cut into "the
Rachel." But when we perform, I’m wearing contacts and mascara. Surely
Ryan has noticed. Two weeks ago after practice he called me his "sister in
Christ" and kissed my forehead. I can't let go of the feeling of his
Chapstick-perfect lips on my skin.
On the night of dress rehearsal I follow Ryan to the hill
behind the parking lot. It used to be a dirt pile where the law firm next door
was going to expand, but they changed plans and grass grew over the dirt.
Tonight, I can feel the universe pulsing. The night sky spreads out overhead,
full of promise.
"Look at all those stars," Ryan says.
"I know. They're so bright."
"Jesus said, 'I am the light of the world. Whoever
follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.' Isn't
that comforting? If we follow Christ, we can have that light."
"Mmm..."
I scoot a little closer to him on the hill. He leans back,
staring up at the sky.
"Jesus makes it sound so easy, following him,"
Ryan says. "But it's not. It's really hard."
"I think you do a good job."
"You don't know that. You're so pure. I wish I could be
like you."
"Can I help?" I inch my hand closer to his, but he
raises his arms behind his head.
"Pray for me. That’ll help."
"I will,” I promise.
Then the stage manager throws the backstage door open and
hisses into the darkness for all the chorus members to hurry the hell up or
we’ll miss our cue.
Before opening night, Ryan leads the cast in prayer. I try
to stand beside him as we all join hands, but I end up beside weird Mark with
his sweaty palms.
"Dear God, I just thank you for bringing us here today.
We give you all the glory, God. We just pray that everyone tonight remembers
their lines, God. That you bless us, God, and be with us as we share your love
with this audience. In your Son's holy name we pray, Amen."
"Amen."
The show goes awesomely. At intermission, I try to get
Ryan’s attention, but he’s deep in conversation with his friend Brandon. I sit
in the backstage hallway and pretend to read a book Ryan lent me called I
Kissed Dating Goodbye. When Mark comes and
asks me what's wrong, I sigh and say,
"Nothing. I just feel like being alone."
The next night, Ryan asks me if I want to go to Bible study
with him after the show.
"This group is like my family," Ryan says.
"They're spiritual warriors."
I call my mom to ask. This is practically my first
date.
Ryan drives a bright yellow 4Runner because his mom wants
him visible to reckless drivers. It is the best car I've ever seen, and now I'm
in the front seat as we pull up to the house where the Bible study is in full
swing.
We slip in as a skinny guy is giving his testimony. Tears
stain his face and his body quivers as he shouts at us to banish impure
thoughts from our minds. Every time we lust after a member of the opposite sex,
every time we wish to do things only meant for holy matrimony, we are letting
the devil tighten his grip on us. We are letting the devil in.
Ryan is nodding his head. When the skinny guy sits down,
Ryan pulls out his guitar and leads everyone in song. "Over the mountains
and the sea, your river runs with love for me, and I will open up my heart and
let the healer set me free. I could sing of your love forever...I could sing of
your love forever..."
Soon everyone is crying and repeating the lines of the
chorus. The guitar music stops, and it's just our tortured voices, singing to
the God who loves us and hates our sin.
As the group disperses for the night, a blonde girl in
lowrise jeans and a pink American Eagle polo approaches Ryan and compliments
him on his guitar playing.
"You were just, like, so full of the spirit," she
says.
"Thanks, Abby. You're my sister in Christ," he
says. He kisses her on the forehead and asks if she needs a ride home.
I sit in the back seat of the 4Runner. Abby is chatting
about the latest Newsboys album. I lean against the car window. The night sky
is foggy and polluted with the light of the world. I can't see a single star, but I keep looking.
Photograph by: Jaemin Riley
Written by: Dot Dannenberg
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