That Boy
Shock, trauma and betrayal. This
is the story of the time that boy stole my first kiss... First kisses are a big
deal for most kids or at least it was for me. At thirteen, I had never been
kissed on the lips by a boy, trust me. On top of that, the wait wasn’t even
worth it. My first kiss was a mixture of friendship betrayal, raging hormones
and little to no excitement from my part. I felt normal that day, so far, it
had been the classic daily routine at school. Classes. Snack time. Classes. Lunch
time. Time to go home. As I was picking the books I had to take home, my eyes
were suddenly covered up with two hands. I didn’t panic, it was a silly game we
used to play at school, where someone would blind the other and the person had
to guess who was blinding them. I recognized my best friend’s hands, for his
long sweaty fingers. His name is Robert and he was a tall-blonde-thin-athletic
boy in middle school. In a matter of seconds the situation escalated from a
goofy game to a serious violation. It happened quickly, but it still made me extremely uncomfortable. Seconds after he covered my
eyes, I felt a smooch on the lips, and someone continued pressing his lips against mine while Robert shouted: “1, 2, 3, run!”.
The kiss was wet-like and prickly because of that boy’s beard, totally awful
combinations for a girl who had never been kissed.
When Robert ceased his mischievous endeavor, I only caught
sight of the two boys running away from me, and in a matter of seconds I
understood all that had happened. My best friend, Robert, had gone behind my
back to blind side me. Not only that, he gave the opportunity to that boy to
steal a kiss from me. Of course, they were long gone before I realized what had
happened, and better for them because I was a strong five feet little girl who would
have knocked them out both.
Fist curled and lips all wet, I stared at the crowded hallway
and cried.
The End
Note: If you want to read "The Use of Force" by William Carlos Williams, click here.
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