by Sarah Engels from Metropolitan Learning Center
Published in the 2006-2007 WITS Anthology Mostly What I’m Made Of
Long and awkward. The two best words to describe my first real kiss. We had arrived at my house from a terrible action/futuristic movie, and the boy and I were still in his car. The glovebox had the word “Sir” engraved onto it. I liked that. As he reached for the car door I pulled his head, gently, and I could feel the stubble of his pubescent beard. I liked that too. The night was cold, his car was warm. The leather, real or not, squeaked as we turned, I kissed his cheek. He moved toward me quickly, and I turned my head. I was sick. Frog-in-throat-voice sick. His lips were soft, and I had thought boys had hard lips, unlike that of girls. He asked me why I turned my head, I said because I was sick, so he put his arm around me, and told me that he didn’t care.