The boys were sitting at a round table chattering loudly. One of them, a pale ginger named Pete, raised his hands up to his mouth and made a loud, wet fart noise that carried across the room to where I was sitting, working on a doodle before the end of class. Our Bio teacher, Ms. Diran, was grading a quiz we had all just taken and to relieve the post pop-quiz pressure in the room, the group of 5 fourteen-year-old, awkward, pimple covered guys decided to show off how much of a master of the art of farting they were. My head down, I chuckled, worried that I’d get caught encouraging the idiocy going on across the room as Ms. Diran looked up with her steely gaze. The room went dead silent. “WHO DID THAT?” She boomed. Only the hum of the fluorescent lights answered her as 30 pairs of eyes stared back, innocently. I glanced at Pete who was slowly turning a darker shade of maroon. “CUT THAT OUT.” Was all Ms. Diran said after her gaze had scathed every face for a few seconds.
Her head back down to grading with her bright red pen, the chatter in the class went back up to full scale. Pete, Ben, Chris, Nate, and Jonah, now fueled by their near death experience, decided to take the conversation up a notch and start comparing their infinite knowledge of sex. My ears burned with the disgusting details of their poorly informed porn experiences. Ben, a pimple covered blonde whose long fingers made me twitch, was holding up a pen and jabbing it viciously into his closed palm. The others laughed. I surreptitiously watched in horror, my doodle forgotten.
At the time, I had just gone on a date with Gabe, a cute brunette with big brown eyes and a low soft voice. We had gone to see a cheesy horror film about zombies and afterward I told him, explicitly, that I never kissed on the first date. He walked me back to the subway in silence and gave me a hug that lasted a little too long before wishing me good night. I got on the train for home and shivered because of the close call, Gabe looked like he was aiming for a kiss! At 14 my mind could not handle the idea of kissing or having sex. Gross. The girls I read about in my fiction novels had sex and it seemed like it was always on a beach or in a tree or up a ladder or somewhere ridiculously romantic sounding. I’d put the book down and try to paint the picture of doing it with a hot guy on a ladder. Hmmm… doesn’t sound very feasible.
My mind snapped back to Ben laughing raucously as Nate demonstrated humping a leg of the table the boys were sitting at. Nate had a bad dandruff problem and his navy blue shirt had a fine layer of dust across his shoulders. I imagined hugging that and felt a little faint. My heroines must have delt with far worse (maybe bad breath and stinky armpits?), but I couldn’t imagine getting naked and kissing a guy like Nate. Yuck. An image of a shower of flakes hitting my face as he leaned in to kiss me on a bed made me want to gag. Maybe I’m a lesbian? I wondered. I glanced at the girls sitting at my table, some were chatting about their new shoes and two others were comparing the size of their egyptian “Ra” symbols hanging around their neck. I stared at Lydia’s big tits which were hanging out of her black shirt. Her Ra necklace landed right in the middle of her cleavage, inviting anyone with a careless eye to take a good look at her fully formed figure. I went back to my doodle which I found far more fascinating. I guess I’ll just be A-sexual I thought instead, as I drew a big butterfly.
My 14 year old mind churned through possibilities. I guess, if I had to, I’d hold someone’s hand. I looked over at Chris, definitely the most attractive boy at the table. His chestnut hair and grey eyes were fabulous, and his broad shoulders made me feel nervous. I recalled getting paired up with him for a science lab and forgetting how to use my tongue for speech. Instead, I just ran it across my dry lips so much Chris asked if I was retarted. “Uh. N-No.” I’d stammered, his grey eyes staring in to mine. “Jus-Just dry lips. Not Retarted. Ha. Ha.”
Boys are dumb and I’m giving up. I thought with finality, finishing my butterfly. How anyone can date anyone and create more human life is beyond me.
October 21, 2013 at 6:57 pm by Natalie Allen