Forever by Judy Blume

a
     speaker at our Career Day program in April, because most kids don’t get to meet
     anthropologists every day. Sharon said she’d like that a lot. My guidance
     counselor, Mrs. Handelsman, will be pleased since she’s having trouble finding
     enough interesting speakers, especially young women.
    We were all tired from the trip and when Sharon started yawning the rest
     of us joined her. “Let’s hit the sack,” Ike said, and he and Sharon
     said goodnight and went to their room.
    Michael and I looked at each other.
    â€œYou can use the bathroom first,” he told me.
    â€œOkay.”
    We went upstairs. “I’ll wake you at 7:30 so we can get an
     early start.”
    â€œOkay . . . fine.”
    He kissed me on the cheek. “Just yell when you’re done in the
     bathroom.”
    â€œI will.”
    â€œWell . . . goodnight.”
    â€œGoodnight . . .” I put my forehead against his chest.
     “You’re sure you’re not mad?”
    â€œNo . . . come on,
     Kath . . . it’s okay. Get a good night’s sleep and I’ll
     see you in the morning.”
    I nodded, then went to my room while Michael went to his. I felt like
     crying. Our goodnight hadn’t been at all the way I’d wanted it. I put on my
     long white nightgown. It’s the prettiest one I own, made out of soft brushed
     nylon, with angel sleeves and tiny buttons shaped like hearts. I was hoping Michael
     would see me in it.
    I used the bathroom, called, “Finished . . .” and got into
     bed. I listened as Michael ran the water and flushed the toilet. When it was quiet I
     called out again. “Goodnight, Michael . . .”
    â€œKath . . .”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œCan I come in for a second?”
    â€œSure.” I sat up in bed and hugged the covers to me.
    Michael was wearing baggy blue pajamas. He sat down on the bed and I put
     my arms around him and a funny sound came out of his throat and we kissed.
    â€œYour sister . . .” I muttered, when we came up for a
     breath.
    â€œDon’t worry.”
    We kissed again. Then Michael held me away and said, “I wasn’t
     going to touch you tonight . . . just to prove I didn’t get you up
     here for sex.”
    â€œI’d have been disappointed,” I told him. “I even
     wore my best nightgown. Do you like it?”
    â€œIt covers too much of you but it’s nice and soft.”Michael reached over and turned out the lamp on the night table.
     “How do you work these crazy buttons?” he asked, trying to undo my
     nightgown.
    I unbuttoned them myself.
    â€œI want to feel you against me,” Michael said and he took off
     the top of his pajamas. Then he lay down and put his arms around me.
    â€œOh . . . it feels nice this way,” I whispered,
     as my hands wandered across his naked shoulders and down his back.
    Michael kissed me and reached down between my legs but I caught his hand
     and moved it away. “No . . . not tonight . . .”
    â€œI don’t care.”
    â€œBut I do.” It wasn’t so much that I didn’t want
     him to touch me, because I did—it was just that I didn’t think it was a good
     idea for either one of us to get carried away. “Michael . . .
     don’t get too worked up . . . okay . . .”
    â€œI’m already worked up.”
    He didn’t have to tell me.
    We kissed one more time and then he touched my face gently and said,
     “I love you, Katherine. I really mean it . . . I love
     you.”
    I could have said it back to him right away. I was thinking it all along.
     I was thinking, I love you, Michael . But can you really love
     someone you’ve seen just nineteen times in your life?
    â€œI’ve never said that before,” he told