| Girlfriends, Chapter 1 I would say that love has been one of the defining characteristics of my childhood. The love of my adoptive parents, who gave me a home and affection when I needed it the most. Love of my brother, who fought relentlessly to adopt me and become my father when we lost our parents in a car accident. The love of Danny, my best friend, who I have been able to count on unconditionally all my life. And the love of a little girl I met in my thirteenth year, with whom I experienced my first romantic and physical love. This young girl is the cause and center of my story, as she was the center of my universe eight years ago. The year was 1997, a time when reality shows were scarce and sit-coms were funny. Five girls with cute nicknames ruled the pop-charts, as well as my dad’s stereo, which I had hi-jacked. He ”paid ransom,” you might say, and bought me a boom-box when I turned twelve. Before I begin, let me tell you a little about me. I am a brunette, but my hair has a tendency of shifting colors between seasons. It’s quite dark in the winter, and almost blonde in the summer. In the fall, like it was at the beginning of this story, it’s dark on the top of my head, and shifting to a lighter nuance further out. My eyes are blue, but almost grey, and my face you could describe as pretty round. At twelve, I had begun developing breasts, even though it was hard to see when I wasn’t topless. My pussy had some hair growing on it. More than down, but not enough to pull my fingers through it. I was neither slim, nor chubby. I had, as dad put it, ”those few extra pounds that make you look healthy instead of anorectic.” Overall, I was very attractive, and I was aware of it as well. I will tell my story with the help of myself, or in other words, with excerpts from my diary. Enjoy. *** Monday, December 1, 1997 Dear diary. Today was a pretty crappy day. It started when we got this new girl in math class. I’ve forgotten her name; it didn’t seem like something I had any reason to remember. She’s a total geek—kind of pretty though. Not that I care much or anything. Apparently, she’s some sort of math-genius who’s been moved up one grade. Of course Mrs. Phillips, in all her benevolence, gave me the task of helping this girl catch up with the rest of us tomorrow after school. Not something I’m looking forward to, exactly. I had lunch with Danny and his new girlfriend today. What was her name again? I don’t remember. I really should try to remember names. Both Christina and Craig were home from school today—the flu or something. She was supposed to go shopping with me, but now I’m home instead not doing my homework. I really should be studying. And there was no Buffy today, either. That really sucks. *** Tuesday, December 2 Dear diary. Today didn’t turn out so bad after all. I had lunch with the gang as usual, and I had almost forgotten today’s extra curricular duty. That, of course, didn’t make it go away. So, at three sharp, I was at the school library. It looks just like I remembered it, by the way. About five minutes later, she showed up, again wearing hopelessly outdated clothes and no makeup whatsoever. ”Hi,” I said. ”Oh, you’re here,” she replied. ”Like I’ve been told to.” ”I know,” she said. ”It’s just that, well, I hoped you wouldn’t be.” ”Why?” ”I already know all that stuff.” ”Then why didn’t you tell her that?” ”I tried, but she kept talking. Why don’t we just say we did this and go home?” ”You don’t know Mrs. Phillips. She is probably standing right outside the door, just waiting to catch me leaving. We’re staying for half an hour. Have a seat.” She reluctantly sat down. ”I’m Jenny, by the way,” I said, trying my best to be cordial. ”I know who you are,” she said coldly. ”You hang with the twins. You are very popular, you know. Everybody know who you are.” ”That shouldn’t keep you from at least being a little polite,” I pointed out. ”You’re right. If you can play nice, I can play nice.” ”Good.” I figured I might as well strike up a conversation, so I asked her, ”You’re some sort of genius?” ”Nah, I don’t think so. I just like math.” ”You like math?” ”Yeah.” ”But, why?” She thought about it for a few seconds. ”What does math mean to you?” ”Headache,” I answered and she smiled at me. I’m not sure what kind of smile it was, but it might have been condescending. ”Ok,” she continued, ”that didn’t help me. Let’s try this: What most people think of when they think of math is about numbers and calculating. For me, math is about understanding how things work. It’s a tool for explaining the world. We don’t learn math in school to be able to solve fractions; we learn it to be able to solve real problems.” I have never heard anyone talk like that before. ”You came up with that by yourself? And you think you are not a genius?” She found that very funny. ”No, I didn’t come that up. I learned it in the physics club.” ”What’s that?” ”The physics club is where we read and discuss matters of physics. It’s a high school thing, but they made an exception for me.” ”But what’s so interesting about physics?” ”I want to understand how the world works, I guess. Physics is where the explanation is. That’s the best I can do.” ”That’s so weird. I’ve never met anyone who thinks like that. Where does it come from?” ”I don’t really know—maybe my mother. To her, every explanation begins with God. To me, God is the end of any explanation.” ”You’re a real rebel,” I kidded. ”Something like that.” We sat silent for a few seconds. I was trying to comprehend what she had just told me. Suddenly, she asked me, ”How do you do that?” ”Do what?” ”Ten minutes ago we hadn’t met, and now I’ve told you things about me even some of my friends don’t know. You must have done something.” ”I don’t know. I just try to be myself.” ”That tells me nothing. There must be something more to it.” ”There is no trick. I just pay attention to the person I’m talking to—asking questions and stuff. I’m just interested.” ”But there must be something more to it. You make it sound so easy.” ”I’ve never really thought about it. It comes naturally. You just need to find something to talk about. Tell you what, we can make an experiment. I get it started by asking you a question, and then we see where we end up. What do you think?” ”Alright.” ”Ok, let’s see,” I thought for a few moments. ”Which is your favorite show on television?” ”You promise not to laugh?” ”Sure.” ”Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” I was so surprised I couldn’t help but laugh. ”Hey, you promised!” she berated me. ”I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I was surprised, that’s all. I love Buffy too.” ”Really?” ”Really. And I don’t know anyone who likes it. Except my dad, and I think he only watches ’cause he has a thing for Alyson Hannigan. I have seen every episode,” I told her. ”Don’t miss it for anything.” ”Nobody I know likes it either. Especially Mom. She thinks it will corrupt me. It’s only thanks Dad that I can watch it at all. I had to make a deal in which, in return, I have to listen to Mom telling me the evils of the Occult, rock music, boys, the theory of evolution, and a whatever it is that week that she thinks I should stay away from.” ”Yes, ’cause boys certainly are evil,” I joked. ”They certainly are,” she kidded as well. We laughed and had very fun about it all. Once we had relaxed a bit she said, ”You did it again.” ”I guess I did.” ”That is such an amazing gift.” ”Thank you. You’re gift is pretty amazing too.” ”Which gift?” ”You know, your brains and your interest in science and all that.” ”Yeah, well, my gift doesn’t exactly make me popular, like yours does.” ”Maybe so, but it’s still pretty amazing.” ”I guess,” she said without much enthusiasm. ”Don’t try that with me,” I told her, ”I know you love it.” ”You’re right, and I am happy about it.” She smiled at me. This time I knew it was for real. ”I know. I was thinking, maybe we could help each other with our homework. You help me with math and I help you with other subjects. What do you say?” ”I’d like that. We can meet back here tomorrow after school,” she suggested. ”I have soccer practice on Wednesdays. How about Thursday? ”Physics club. Friday? ”Friday it is. By the way, I don’t think you told me your name.” ”It’s Carolyn, but everybody calls me Lynn.” Lynn and I talked for over an hour. It turns out we have more things in common, like our taste in music and books. I’m actually looking forward to seeing her again on Friday. All in all, today was a pretty good day. *** Wednesday, December 10 Dear diary. It’s the strangest thing. I’m attracted to Lynn. I find myself just looking at her, admiring her beauty—her smile, her cute nose and her dark brown eyes that contrasts her otherwise pale figure. Last night I even fantasized about her when I masturbated. I was sitting in my armchair in my room, rubbing my clit and imagining what it would be like to touch her, to stroke her blonde hair, press my lips on hers, feel her skin, as I fondle her gently. It was a bit weird since I’ve never thought of a girl in that way before, but it felt really nice when I came. *** Sunday, December 14 Dear diary. I’m in love with Lynn! It feels weird to say it like that. It’s so odd. I mean, she’s a girl. I feel kind of like I felt for Peter last spring, except ten times more, a hundred times more. And for a girl! Lynn, the funniest and most beautiful girl in the world—she really is. I think about her all the time, and the butterflies in my stomach are going crazy in there. Whenever she’s around, I want to touch her, and feel her slim body and soft skin. I wish she’d wear a little make-up now and then though. Her features are perfect, but a little color to bring out her cheeks and eyes more wouldn’t hurt. And something needs to be done about her wardrobe. It’s all a mess, really. I haven’t got a clue what to do. Could she be into me too? She is quite religious, and who knows what her mother has told her? She might freak out if I tell her I have a crush on her. On the other hand, we haven’t talked about boys once. Is that a sign? I’ve only known her two weeks, but it could have come up a hundred times. And all girls our age want to talk about boys, don’t they? I’ll go crazy if I think like this. It’s only fair that I tell her, right? And I have never been the kind of person who pines for someone, but says nothing. She’s coming over after school on Tuesday when I’m helping her with a history test she has next week. Maybe I’ll tell her then how I feel. *** I remember a conversation I had with dad after we had lost our parents and I had some trouble dealing with it all. ”There is no right and wrong,” he said, ”when it comes to emotions. There is no off-switch; what we feel is what we feel, and accepting your feelings as something inevitable, embracing them as something that’s a part of you, makes them that much easier to deal with.” His words stuck to me, and they definitely helped me embrace my emotions toward Lynn. I knew what I had to do. |