New Girl in School, Part 1

by Thom

I was just coming to grips with the fact that I didn't like boys in the same way that my friends did but didn't yet know what that meant for me except possibly oldmaidhood when a new girl moved into town and started at my school. It was just after winter break so it was sort of in the middle of the year, which is kind of odd. Most families move over the summer so that kids don't have to just drop out of the sky into a school where they don't know anyone.

Oh, just to catch you up, I'm Jenny and I was fourteen then, a freshperson (9th grade if you like, I don't use that word that ends in man) in high school. I'm in college now and call myself a first year; a better way to avoid the m word.

Anyway, it hadn't yet occurred to me, obviously, duh, that girls were my future and that boys were not. I was simply feeling totally depressed and mostly angry with myself and everyone I knew, including girls that I thought were my friends, and even more with my parents who were pushing their expectation shit down my throat about boys, college, sports, studying and all kinds of stuff that I couldn't deal with because I was so fucking miserable.

Her name was Leslie which isn't one of those overused names like Alana or Amber or Ashley (do they all start with A?) that so many of the people I know have and she wore different clothes than we did, but more importantly she had attitude. Lucky for me, as it turned out, our last names got us into the same homeroom, and our homeroom teacher, being the miss goodie two shoes that she was, noticed that our schedule was almost the same and that I should like, show her around.

I told her right off what I thought of our homeroom teacher, which sort of wasn't the highest regard that anyone might have for a teacher or anyone else for that matter, and that if she didn't want my help I would completely understand. I think that Leslie appreciated my saying that because she said she would have said the same thing if our roles had been reversed and that she would like to hear what I thought about the other teachers we had in common and, all in all, what the skinny was on lots of things and people at the school.

It wasn't exactly like she was asking me to gossip and, in fact, after the first couple of days, we didn't talk at all about anyone specifically again. She just wanted to get the lay of the land without having to learn it all herself if she could find someone that she trusted to fill her in. I know now that if she hadn't trusted me, she would have not asked me for information and that she would have nailed it anyway within days or maybe even hours of showing up at the school because she turned out to be one of the smartest and most insightful people I've ever met.

A little time went by and we settled into our classes and Leslie sort of drifted away a bit. She was extremely independent and she began to assert that independence. She was friendly enough but it was clear to me that she didn't need the kind of help or assistance that she had used the first few days upon arriving at school. I was kind of missing her, even after such a short acquaintance, and I made a point of inviting her to a party that was going to be held at one of my friend's houses. Her parents were going to be away for the weekend and a bunch of us were going to go there on Friday night.

As far as I could tell, Leslie hadn't made any other friends (I now think it was presumptuous of me to think I was a friend but it's easy to delude oneself about these things). Every time I saw Leslie, she was alone. I didn't know then that being alone is what she preferred. After I discovered that about her, I was amazed that she even went to this party or was brave enough to ask me about whether it would be only couples or individuals. She didn't really know any boys well enough to invite or that would invite her.

I told her that we (my friends and I for the most part) didn't have like steady boyfriends, and that even if we had boyfriends or were pretending to have boyfriends that we would all come by ourselves or with girl friends. I told Leslie that she could go with me so that she didn't have to go alone. This seemed to work for her and I went by her house on the way to the party.

Once we were there, I totally lost track of her. Leslie was a whole lot more independent than me and I really admired that in her. I gravitated to a few close girl friends and hung out with them. All my friends though were beginning to pair off and I was feeling more and more out of it from that point of view since I wasn't hitting it off with any guys and they weren't chasing me either. I was beginning to get like a poor-me-I-must-be-ugly-or-undesirable-in-some-way kind of feeling.

So the house party was full of a variety of alcohol and pot from the 411 crowd, and shortly everyone was in a haze of one kind or another or both. My friends had all coupled off or passed out and I was getting kind of bored (or just feeling left out). Not liking the music I was hearing, I made my way to the stereo. I was hoping to find some really old sixties stuff or at least something a little bit funky when I spotted Leslie headed to the same place I was going from the other direction.

"I was going to try to change the music selection because otherwise I'm out of here," I told her. She said she had the same idea but that she intended to both change the music and be out of here. We went over the CDs that were there and plunked on a combination of Beetles, Bob Dylan, Jefferson Air Plane, REO Speed Wagon and Simon and Garfunkle. We figured that would sixties them to death and they would be too stoned to stop it. We left the house together.

We got a big chuckle out of our mutual joke and grabbed each others hands as we walked along toward her house. Mine was further on. It was just starting to snow as we left the party and it was nice walking in it and watching it dance under the street lights. It was one of those winter nights where it seems warmer than it really is and being out in the snow is really magical.

On the way home, I asked her if she had had a boyfriend from where she moved from. Leslie said that there was a boy that she had sort of dated but that she wasn't entirely sad to have moved away from him because he was beginning to hope or expect things from her that she wasn't sure she wanted to share with him.

And what about me, she asked. How come I wasn't coupled up with one of those cute guys at the party we had just left? I said that none of them really interested me and that I wasn't going to compromise. I wouldn't have a thing with just anybody. It would have to be with someone interesting, someone special.

We should have or likely might have let go of each other's hands after a while but we didn't. It seemed quite natural at the time to go on holding hers and I didn't get the feeling that she was anxious to let go of mine. You know how the other person will, oh so subtlety, change the grip so that you know they don't want to go on holding your hand? Well, she never did that to me and I didn't either.

When we got to Leslie's house, I walked her to the door and she thanked me for inviting me to the party. She said it was interesting getting to know the kids in the neighborhood but she was the most pleased that she had gotten to spend some time with me. She hoped we could be friends and that I would invite her to do things again. Without needing to think about it, I told her I felt the same way.

Facing each other while we talked, we were still holding hands. She took hers out of mine and wrapped both of her arms around my middle and gave me a hug, putting her head next to mine. I returned the hug and leaned my face into her neck. We froze in that position for a brief moment and then started to release each other. Then the most extraordinary thing occurred. Our lips met in a kiss that was more like a first date kiss with a guy than a peck you would give a girl friend. We both seemed to be taken aback by it and we hurriedly said good night and agreed to call each other tomorrow.

I was in a daze the rest of the walk to my house. My head was spinning thought after thought. Maybe I had imagined the intensity of that kiss. But I gave as much as I got. Did I mean to do that? What had I communicated to her? Did she mean something other than a friendly goodnight? Did I? Did I turn her off with the intensity of it? Did I mean it to be something other than goodnight?

At home, it was late enough that my parents and younger sister were asleep. I stripped down to my T-shirt and panties and did my bed-time business in the bathroom without seeing anyone else. When I climbed into bed and tried to sleep, I couldn't slow my thoughts down. In fact they intensified beyond the kiss itself to my wondering if I was falling in love with Leslie. And what if I were? Would she reject me? Was I into girls? Was she into girls and hadn't told me. What if I am and she's not? Am I going to feel, and worse, look like a real jerk? Will I lose her as a friend if I come on to her? What does coming on to her mean anyway?

After what seemed like hours of that kind of crazy questioning and self doubt, I became exhausted and started to drift off to sleep. Before I did, I rewound the whole evening to the beginning and played it again up to the point of the kiss. When I got back to it in my thoughts, I grabbed the extra pillow in my bed and slid it beside me like a body. I wrapped my legs around the bottom of it, squeezed my pussy into it, planted a kiss on the top of it doing everything in my power to recall the kiss I had exchanged with Leslie, and fell asleep.