BOYS #2

Name: Cesar

Age: 12

Location: Las Vegas

Status: Schoolmate

Boundary Crossed: Kissing

When the first tremors of a strange, inexplicable attraction to boys began rumbling through my body, I was in a school that was mostly Hispanic. And the cutest, toughest-looking boy of them all, at least to my hormone-addled mind, was Cesar. He had been held back a grade, was at least a foot taller than me, and was just the kind of bad boy I wanted as a boyfriend. Even then, I had terrible taste in men. Of course, at that age you don’t need to date or even touch someone for him to be your boyfriend. It’s just a decision you make together during recess.

My house was down the street from school. When he came over for the first time, I was so awkward and nervous. The guy had been my so-called boyfriend for four months but I still didn’t know anything about him and had no idea what I was supposed to say to him. We walked out to the porch and sat on the steps. And that was when Cesar took advantage of the moment to put his arm around me. I couldn’t relax because I was worried my dad would come out and bust me. Suddenly, he grabbed me and planted this big nasty French kiss on me.

I was so grossed out I wanted to spit. The taste of another person in my mouth revolted me. I pulled away and discreetly wiped my mouth on my sleeve. Just then, I saw my grandmother’s head in the door. She said, “Excuse me,” and ducked back into the house.

I left Cesar on the porch, ran inside, and begged my grandma not to tell my dad. I wanted to be the perfect little daughter to him. And perfect little daughters did not French kiss junior gang-bangers. Of course, little did my father know that my brother and I were running the streets like maniacs. That was the first and last time Cesar and I kissed. A few months later, we moved and I never saw him again. For all I know, he’s still sitting on the stoop, waiting for me to come back out.