March 2001

Caitlin

I WAS HANGING OUT AT the food court in the mall when I spotted Austin. I knew him through Heather—they were dating even though he went to Pennridge, a rival high school. That meant the other three boys he was with probably went there as well. One of them was really cute. My friend Amy saw me staring and said, “I dare you to go talk to him.”

Propelled by the thought of kissing the tall, lanky boy with the sandy-brown hair one day soon, I stood up and heard Amy say “No way” as I walked across the court. The boys must have heard, too, because they turned toward me as I approached.

“Hey, Austin,” I said. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” he said. I was waiting for an introduction, but couldn’t stand the suspense. I turned to my new crush and said, “Hi, I’m Caitlin. And you’re really cute.”

His other friends all busted out laughing, including Austin, who said, “Your move, Damon.”

Damon’s cheeks turned red as he looked away for a moment before turning to me to say, “Okay, well, you’re cute, too.”

I found a slip of paper and a pen in my bag and wrote down my number.

“Call me,” I said, and then walked back to my friends, who each high-fived me when I sat down.

“I cannot believe you just did that!” Amy said.

I couldn’t, either, but loved the warm tingly feeling flooding my body.

My friends and I popped into Aeropostale to try on the skinny cargo pants that were all the rage. There, I fell in love with a backless halter top and a leather miniskirt that I dreamed of wearing on my first date with Damon. I hoped he’d call.

As we rode the escalator up to the next level, Amy spotted Damon and Austin below.

“Caitlin, there he is,” she said.

“Hey, Damon,” I shouted as all my friends laughed. He looked up at me and I blew him a kiss and winked. I’d always been outgoing, but even I was amazed at my forwardness.

That night, I was in my room when my cell phone lit up with a number I didn’t recognize.

“Caitlin?” I recognized the gravelly voice and felt that same tingly feeling again. He called.

We talked on the phone for over an hour that night. I told him I was about to turn sixteen, and that my dad had already bought me a car.

“I’ve actually seen it,” he said. “I dropped Austin off at Heather’s last week, and I noticed it in the driveway.”

“You drove past my house?” I said.

“Your driveway looks like a parking lot,” he responded. “And your car stuck out.”

I got goose bumps. “Well, now you know where to come pick me up!” I said.

Damon showed up the next day. My mom and dad already knew he was coming over. They were very cool about my having boyfriends, as long as they got to know them.

“Nice to meet you, young man,” my dad said, greeting Damon at the front door.

Damon and I went to the mall to meet up with Heather and Austin, both of whom were excited that we could now double-date. I was, too. Damon was different from the guys I dated in middle school. He was more mature, and sensitive. I understood why when I met his dad. He had MS and was in a wheelchair as a result. That meant he needed full-time care to do anything from eat to go to the bathroom. Damon’s mom took care of his dad, and basically let her kids fend for themselves. His parents turned the downstairs den into their bedroom, and let Damon and his older brother take over the second floor, which meant they could drink beer and smoke pot in their rooms, as their mom never really checked on them.

The first time Damon offered me pot in his house, I was mortified. My mom had recently found Richie’s bong in a brown paper bag in his underwear drawer. She took the bag out to the garage, smashed it with a hammer, and then put the bag of broken shards back in the drawer. I kept waiting for Richie to get yelled at—and so did he. The look of fearful anticipation on his face remained for days. She never said a word, which was somehow worse than being grounded.

I knew better than to bring pot or any paraphernalia into my house, but I thought it was cool that Damon could. I also liked that I could tell him anything. We were in his room hanging out when I first told him about Martin. At first I worried that he, like everyone else, would think Martin was my boyfriend. After I told Damon the whole story starting from the first letter to the phone call with Mr. Samupindi, he smiled and said, “That’s so cool.”