CAITLIN BARLOW WAS THIRTEEN when she first kissed a boy, and as was true of most first kisses, the memory still lingered at the core of her body. Billy Pike, fellow eighth-grader. Behind his pool house. It was early spring, and he’d invited some friends over. Thinking back on it now, it might as well have been a lifetime ago. So much had changed, and in so little time.
They’d been a small group of friends, social outcasts who stuck together by default because no one else would have them. Watching the others make their plans, seeing them out in town and wanting with every fiber to be with them instead of with the ones by her side. Every day at school, banding together out of necessity, swallowing the explicit rejection from the likes of Amanda Jamison, and the implicit rejection from one another.
Still, they had been as content a group of misfits as was possible—Cait, Billy, and the three others—flying under the radar at school, making their own fun on the weekends, watching movies, sneaking beer. And when she pretended there were no Amandas, no perfect others doing something better, something bigger, their mundane amusements were actually satisfying. When the kiss came, finally, after months of flirting and talk within their circle about the attraction everyone could sense, this almost seemed possible, this feat of closing Amanda Jamison from her thoughts.
They’d gone to look for beer in the pool house fridge, but before they could get there, Billy had pulled her to the back. He’d given no explanation, and she hadn’t needed one. They had both known from the outset that this would be the moment. He’d steadied her face with his hands, as though he might somehow miss her lips. They had closed their eyes, shutting out their surroundings, traveling instead to that magical place where fantasy becomes reality, even for a split second. Of course, reality is never quite as good. His breath smelled of chips, his tongue lay inside her mouth like a giant anchovy, and his shaking body wasn’t exactly the manly figure she had so needed to hold her, to keep her from falling further and further from any vision of life that was worth the effort. But it was tender and warm, and Cait had felt a different kind of pleasure than she had expected. It was, at its core, genuine and sweet.
They kissed many times after that first time, stolen moments in private corners of the large estates that were their playground. Billy’s performance improved, the shaking disappeared, and they fell into the comfortable rhythm of a first relationship. His family’s property abutted hers on one side, and it was there that they would meet, sometimes in the middle of the night, to talk and roll around in the cool grass, kissing and holding each other, wondering where it would lead and how soon. They talked about their families, the teachers they hated at the Academy, and the stories they heard about their peers. It was as close to peaceful as Cait had ever felt, which was, she imagined, the reason she’d had to kill it.
Everything had a place and time, and it was here and now, in the ninth grade, that her life was finally turning around. She’d been accepted, and no one in her right mind would turn down that invitation. That it came at Billy’s expense was the price she’d been willing to pay, even though it haunted her, the guilt, at moments like this one, when they were sitting in the same room eating lunch two tables apart. She did her best to avoid catching his wounded gaze, and she could feel today the scornful eyes of her former friends upon her. Everyone knew about the hallway, the incident with Kyle Conrad. She could hardly think the words without wanting to crawl under the table, but yes, the blow job. What must he be thinking? For six months, all they did was kiss and wonder, kiss and fantasize. Every time he’d reached his hand under her shirt, she had pulled away. How desperate he now seemed, looking back. Lying on top of her, his hard dick pressing into her leg, and that puppy dog look in his eye like she was the love of his life and wouldn’t she please give him just a little more? It was all so after-school special.
“Cait?” Amanda was watching her as well, wondering where she’d gone.
“Is he staring again?” Cait asked, looking up to meet her friend’s eyes.
Amanda leaned back nonchalantly and did a wide perusal of the cafeteria. “He was, but not now. He’s getting up with his tray.”
Cait nodded and took another sip of her diet soda. “And the others?”
Amanda gave her a disapproving look, then leaned forward to accentuate the point. “Screw the others, okay? They used to be your friends, and now they’re gonna judge you? What—just because it wasn’t Billy in the hallway?” She leaned back and shook her head with disgust. “Hypocrites. I mean, come on! As if.”
“You’re right. Sorry. It’s just a little weird being back.”
“It’ll pass. Besides, you’re kinda famous now.”
She was kidding, of course, but it still made Cait nearly gag on her soda. Popular had been good. Popular had felt like someone had stopped throwing dirt on her coffin and instead lifted it from the ground, pried it open, and let her out. She’d been washed in sunlight, finally noticed by the world. But today was more like a laser beam cutting her in two. If only she hadn’t been caught.
Amanda’s face changed suddenly, and Cait turned to follow where her eyes had gone. Kyle Conrad was walking to their table.
Cait felt her cheeks flush as she looked back to the table. It was a high, as good as any she could ever imagine. She could feel him standing behind her, and it took all her will not to turn around and acknowledge him.
“Hello, girls,” he said. At sixteen, he had a deep, commanding voice that carried just enough indifference to make any audience stop and take notice.
Cait felt his hand resting on her shoulder, and she could tell from her friend’s expression that he was also looking down at her.
“Hello,” Amanda said, failing miserably to hide her jealousy.
With his hand still upon her, Kyle sat down beside Cait. It was then that she allowed herself to look at him. Her mind—no, her entire being—was rapt with a bittersweet longing that left room for nothing else.
“Hi,” she managed to say along with a smile.
Kyle smiled back, then looked down at the BlackBerry he held in his hands. “So, listen. I’m sorry about all the trouble. Has it totally sucked?”
“Not too bad. I can deal,” Cait answered, though Kyle’s concern was somewhat undermined by the fact that he was now checking his messages. And that he had missed entirely the irony of the word he’d used to describe her situation.
With his fingers clicking at the speed of light, he nodded and said “Good” before finishing his texting.
Amanda and Cait waited in silence.
Finally, he looked up again. “So, I’ll see you both this weekend?”
“Absolutely,” Amanda answered.
Cait nodded as well, though she had no idea what he was talking about, or how she would manage to be anywhere when she was still grounded.
“Good.” He got up then to leave, and Cait prepared herself for the pain that was coming. Could this be the most dreadful misery known to mankind? She was nerve-racked when he was near her. Despairing when he was gone. All that saved her was the hope that one day, she might finally have him. It was sheer insanity, and she was powerless to cure it.
“See ya.” His parting words were delivered with a smile, then a slight brush of Cait’s hair the way he’d done in the hallway that night. It was a small gesture, but there was no doubt she would spend the rest of the day (week?) analyzing it, reliving it, and breathing into it more significance than it could ever deserve. Each morning, she would trace the path of his day—the classrooms and hallways and lunch breaks. She had memorized his schedule, knew when he would pass certain places within the school or on the grounds, and she would be sure to be there, watching, waiting. Hoping. The blissful misery of infatuation.
“Cait . . .” It was Amanda, again breaking her train of thought. “Why did you tell Kyle you’d be there this weekend?”
Cait shook her head. “I don’t know. I didn’t even know what he was talking about.”
Amanda let out an exasperated gasp. “He’s having a party at his house—while your parents are having their big party! Your house will be swarming with help. You can’t possibly go!” Her voice was deadly serious, as though Cait had done something unthinkable.
Inside, Cait felt like dying. “Who’s gonna be there?”
“Only a few of us. And now Kyle’s expecting you.” She raised an eyebrow, as if Cait couldn’t connect the dots on her own. As if she didn’t know that if she failed to finish what she’d started, he would find someone who would. The thought of it made her nauseated.
“Maybe I can get out in the middle of the party. Can I get a ride?”
Amanda gave this serious thought as she rubbed her chin. “I guess. I can ask my brother.”
“Really?” Cait said, her voice replete with desperation.
And though it was completely contrary to her own self-interest, Amanda found herself making the promise. “Really. Text me when you get to the end of your driveway.”
Relief set in as Cait muttered the words, “I will!”
Suddenly, life became about one thing—getting to the end of that driveway Saturday night. As she got up from the table with her empty can of soda, her back to the small group of friends from her recent past, she felt lifted by the emergence of this new purpose, and the rescue of hope it afforded her.