beginning of freshman year, with his high voice and long hair and short-shorts, I’d never have imagined the senior-year version, the Will to whom girls, grades and great parking spaces came effortlessly.
But back to the shorts. When I say short I mean
really
short. I mean an inch away from sharing your balls with the world short.
We were getting ready for PE. I hadn’t noticed Will at the locker next to me, but once I saw those shorts, it was hard to look away.
It wasn’t until a few weeks later, after we’d started hanging out, that I said, “Dude. Those shorts. They need to go.” We’d just run laps.
He looked down. “These? Really?” And then he took off for one final lap, which we later called “the lap of shame.”
I didn’t see those shorts again until my birthday months later. I was surprised he’d brought a wrapped gift to school. Even a card.
Dear River—to mark the occasion of you turning 15, here: something that says how much you mean to me better than words.
I unwrapped it. The shorts.
Over the years we’d found ways to give them back and forth. I’d leave them in his car or his backpack. He’d sneak into my room and put them in my drawer. I sent them to his summer camp in a care package. But no one ever wore them.
Until he walked into my kitchen that Thursday morning.
“Hurry up, River. I’ll drive you to school.”
Will had grown since freshman year so the shorts had reached a whole new level of…inappropriate. Mom stared, openmouthed.
“What is it, Deb?” He spun around. “Is there something in my teeth?”
“William Parker,” she said. “What on earth are you wearing?”
He slung an arm around her shoulder. “Deb, River needs cheering up. And these shorts bring joy to the world.”
“If it wouldn’t make us late,” I said, “I’d make you take a lap of shame.”
I dragged him to my room and threw him a pair of my jeans. We laughed most of the way to school.
—
My good mood lasted until right before sixth-period study hall, when I practically tripped over the table where Penny’s best friend, Vanessa, sat with a box of cash and a pile of printed purple tickets.
“Hey, River—how
are
you?” She asked this like she’d ask
How are you since someone ran over your puppy?
Or
How are you since your face got disfigured?
“Going to the dance? It should be super fun. Penny is going.” She held up a single ticket. “The theme is Purple Rain.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say. My mind was a blizzard of thick, soft snow.
That night at Jonas’s party Penny and I took a walk around the block together and I grabbed her hand and told her I was going to kiss her and she said:
What are you waiting for?
I leaned in close. I put both of my hands on her cheeks. We were standing out on the street, under a tree, in front of a house where the lights had just gone out. She was chewing that blue sugar-free gum she loved.
I can’t say that the kiss was perfect. I’d liked her since freshman orientation and I was having a hard time just being in the moment because my brain kept screaming
I’M ABOUT TO KISS PENNY BROCKAWAY
. But the kiss was good enough that afterward she pulled back and bit her upper lip. It was the first time I made note of her habit. She smiled at me. “Let’s go someplace and do more of that.”
I dropped my jaw in fake shock.
“You little tramp!”
I said. “Do you think I’m that easy?” Then I leaned in again and gave her a short peck, the kind you give someone you’ve been kissing forever, not the girl you’ve only kissed once a minute ago. But it already felt like I’d been kissing Penny forever, not in the way that you’re bored with doing it, more in the way that it felt like second nature.
We walked holding hands for three more blocks to a park I took Natalie to sometimes.
We sat on a bench away from the lights and we kissed until we both had red rashes around our mouths. I felt drunk. My hair was a mess from the way she ran
But back to the shorts. When I say short I mean
really
short. I mean an inch away from sharing your balls with the world short.
We were getting ready for PE. I hadn’t noticed Will at the locker next to me, but once I saw those shorts, it was hard to look away.
It wasn’t until a few weeks later, after we’d started hanging out, that I said, “Dude. Those shorts. They need to go.” We’d just run laps.
He looked down. “These? Really?” And then he took off for one final lap, which we later called “the lap of shame.”
I didn’t see those shorts again until my birthday months later. I was surprised he’d brought a wrapped gift to school. Even a card.
Dear River—to mark the occasion of you turning 15, here: something that says how much you mean to me better than words.
I unwrapped it. The shorts.
Over the years we’d found ways to give them back and forth. I’d leave them in his car or his backpack. He’d sneak into my room and put them in my drawer. I sent them to his summer camp in a care package. But no one ever wore them.
Until he walked into my kitchen that Thursday morning.
“Hurry up, River. I’ll drive you to school.”
Will had grown since freshman year so the shorts had reached a whole new level of…inappropriate. Mom stared, openmouthed.
“What is it, Deb?” He spun around. “Is there something in my teeth?”
“William Parker,” she said. “What on earth are you wearing?”
He slung an arm around her shoulder. “Deb, River needs cheering up. And these shorts bring joy to the world.”
“If it wouldn’t make us late,” I said, “I’d make you take a lap of shame.”
I dragged him to my room and threw him a pair of my jeans. We laughed most of the way to school.
—
My good mood lasted until right before sixth-period study hall, when I practically tripped over the table where Penny’s best friend, Vanessa, sat with a box of cash and a pile of printed purple tickets.
“Hey, River—how
are
you?” She asked this like she’d ask
How are you since someone ran over your puppy?
Or
How are you since your face got disfigured?
“Going to the dance? It should be super fun. Penny is going.” She held up a single ticket. “The theme is Purple Rain.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say. My mind was a blizzard of thick, soft snow.
That night at Jonas’s party Penny and I took a walk around the block together and I grabbed her hand and told her I was going to kiss her and she said:
What are you waiting for?
I leaned in close. I put both of my hands on her cheeks. We were standing out on the street, under a tree, in front of a house where the lights had just gone out. She was chewing that blue sugar-free gum she loved.
I can’t say that the kiss was perfect. I’d liked her since freshman orientation and I was having a hard time just being in the moment because my brain kept screaming
I’M ABOUT TO KISS PENNY BROCKAWAY
. But the kiss was good enough that afterward she pulled back and bit her upper lip. It was the first time I made note of her habit. She smiled at me. “Let’s go someplace and do more of that.”
I dropped my jaw in fake shock.
“You little tramp!”
I said. “Do you think I’m that easy?” Then I leaned in again and gave her a short peck, the kind you give someone you’ve been kissing forever, not the girl you’ve only kissed once a minute ago. But it already felt like I’d been kissing Penny forever, not in the way that you’re bored with doing it, more in the way that it felt like second nature.
We walked holding hands for three more blocks to a park I took Natalie to sometimes.
We sat on a bench away from the lights and we kissed until we both had red rashes around our mouths. I felt drunk. My hair was a mess from the way she ran
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