A Whisper of Smoke

by Angela Hoke

5-star praise for A Whisper of Smoke:

“Ms. Hoke skillfully handles some very sensitive issues…a story filled with tender emotion, painful secrets and events so relatable you are drawn into the characters as though you were there…”

“A poignant and well-crafted story of the tug of love and disappointment…a beguiling tale of innocence and passion of lovers caught up in the Vietnam war era. A great read!!! You don’t want to miss this one!!!”

an excerpt from

A Whisper of Smoke

by Angela Hoke

PART I

Chapter 1: Shit Fits and Dead People

Summer 1965

On the day of the camp-out that changed my life, I found my sister and brother playing psychic gypsy at the kitchen table. I paused in the doorway to watch.

Annabelle slapped both hands on the table, her silver bracelets ringing against the metal surface. “I see danger in your future,” she said, as the polka-dot scarf tied around her head slipped down over her eyes. She shoved it back into place.

Hank plucked a cocklebur from his sock. “What kind of danger?” he asked. His wavy blond hair stuck out at odd angles, and I could smell his dirty-dog little boy smell from across the room.

Steam from the stove rose behind Annabelle as she consulted her crystal ball. “The kind that will change your life forever!” Mama had put mascara on her, and she had a big beauty mark painted above her lip.

Hank crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “You’re not very good at this.”

“Yes I am!” she snapped. “You will have a terrible accident in fifteen days!”

But Hank only snorted. “Fifteen days?”

Or maybe a year,” she hissed. At this, she gestured dramatically, casting a dull reflection in the black surface of her “crystal ball.”

Wait, black surface?

“Is that… Is that my Magic 8 Ball?” I asked, and she jumped at the sound of my voice.

Hank snatched it from the table before Annabelle could hide it, turning it over in his hand. “Neat,” he said, shaking it vigorously. Annabelle bolted from the room, long chestnut curls and scarves flying.

I screamed in frustration. “Stay out of my things!”

Grabbing the ball from Hank, I stuffed it into my pillowcase with my other supplies – a flashlight and my red scarf, a couple of candles (though Calvin would probably nix those, call them a fire hazard), my prayer book and my new Ouija Board, still smelling of shellac and cardboard dust in its new Parker Brothers box. By the door, I set down my pillowcase with some force and turned, anxious to find Annabelle and make her pay. But before I could, my older sister Lorelei came in, reminding me that there were more important things to attend to – like getting the rest of the snacks together for Mabel’s camp-out. I was looking forward to the festivities, with a bonfire and later a séance in the hayloft, and maybe a little ghost hunting in the woods.

Mama pranced in as we were finishing up, Annabelle scuttling in behind her. She scrambled up on a chair, out of arms’ reach and not daring to look in my direction. I wanted to snatch her up and give her a little shake. But before I could do or say anything retaliatory, Mama grabbed me.

“Dance with me, darling Susanna,” she said, spinning me in an under-arm turn. She was wearing a loudly-patterned apron over her bright blue top and crisp white cigarette pants, white Keds on her dancing feet. I thought she looked beautiful.

In spite of my lingering irritation, I laughed with her, but pulled away after one turn around the kitchen floor. Mama wasn’t fazed – she twirled alone as she glided back to the stove. She hummed as she stirred, excited about the party she and Daddy were hosting which would be starting in an hour or so.

“You ready?” Lorelei asked me, as she packed away the last of our provisions.

Annabelle smacked her hand down on the table. “I want to go too!” I had already annoyed Lorelei by inviting Hank to come with us to the bonfire. Earlier, he’d knocked a spoon on the floor, slopping sauce, and Mama had very nearly lost her temper with him. Partially I’d invited him because I felt sorry for him, but I also didn’t like the idea of leaving him alone with Mama when he’d already gotten under her skin. In any case, I hadn’t planned on asking Annabelle too. I waited for Mama to insist that I do just that.

But Mama looked at Annabelle conspiratorially. “Belle, wouldn’t you much rather spend your evening with me? Prince George is coming for tonight’s festival, and we maidens must prepare the royal court.”

”Good gosh!”  Lorelei muttered, jerking the picnic basket off the counter and flinging her glorious (her opinion, not mine) long hair behind her. She was agitated, like she was itching to go. Uncle George was a jokester and always picking at us. I found it kind of endearing, but it pissed Lorelei off.

Annabelle bounced on her knees. “Think Uncle George will bring me a surprise?” Before anyone could answer, she lifted her chin and turned to Hank. “I can’t come. I’m busy helping Mommy and you’re not invited.”

His shoulders drooped, just a little, enough so that I wanted to smack her. But I resisted and, instead, gathered up my pillowcase and sleeping bag, pushing Hank ahead of me out the door as I shouted good-byes over my shoulder. Lorelei followed, and I sighed with relief when she and Mama crossed paths without an altercation. Finally we were safely outside, heading towards Cora, Elton and Kathleen, who were playing twilight stickball next-door.

We lived on the outskirts of Louisville, at the shoreline that separated city and country. We straddled the two worlds, like a threshold between two dimensions. On one side was a city lane, with house after house lined up like box cars, extending until the distant hillside swallowed them up. I found it comforting how normal it seemed, with people doing what I imagined normal people did everywhere – efficient fathers like Mr. Wagner and Mr. Harris racing against the night, trying to mow one more row before it was too dark to see; rambunctious kids, like the Taylor twins, playing Swinging Statues through a maze of sheets while their mother, determined to hang clothes on the line, chased them away; older kids flying down roads to the faint whirring sound of bicycle wheels on pavement, or the soft click-click-click of baseball cards clothes-pinned to the spokes.

Those sights were comforting. But there was one place where I was completely content, and that was the Conner farm, with its acres of woods and fields, and all its unexplored mysteries. This was where magic happened, and I was drawn to it, like flies to honey. I’d always been, even before Calvin and Mabel became my best friends.

Seeing us approach, Kathleen broke away from the game (Elton yelling “Oh, come on!” with evident frustration) and ran up to greet us. “Here you are, finally. We’ve been waiting forever for you.” She bounced on the balls of her feet, twisting her body and swishing her blue and yellow sundress. Her dirty blond hair was falling out of her pony tail and she repeatedly swept it away in a compulsive salute as she stared at Hank. She eyed him like he was blackberry jam on toast and she wanted to gobble him up, but he didn’t notice.

“We had to escape from prison,” said Lorelei. But by then, Kathleen was no longer listening – Hank had taken off towards the others, and she chased after him yelling for him to wait up.

Mabel stood by the fire pit with her hands on her hips, wearing Calvin’s old blue jeans rolled up to the knees and mismatched socks. She lugged one more hay bale into position around the circle and nodded in satisfaction before cheerfully waving to us. Over by the barn, Calvin wrestled firewood from a stingy rick. Besides his standard white t-shirt and jeans, he was wearing his new glasses – yet another of many recent changes that I found unsettling.

Calvin always acted a little bit like an old man, but I’d chalked it up to him being a boy that was, shall we say, “too big for his britches.”  Even though he was only fifteen, he talked about stripping tobacco, baling hay and bushel prices. But lately he had sprouted some new muscles, and they wound around his bones like kudzu. His leg hair had gone from sparse to substantial (ick), and this new protuberance he called a goozle was just distracting the way it bobbed up and down his neck. I did my best to ignore these new developments, and even found myself irritated at his audacity, plunging into puberty so blatantly.

By the time I’d unloaded our supplies and helped Mabel finish with preparations, the sun had set and Calvin had a good fire going. Everyone raced to claim seats around the flames just as Mr. and Mrs. Conner came outside carrying the ingredients for S’mores. As we roasted marshmallows and pieced together chocolate and graham crackers, Mabel and Calvin told funny stories about each other until we were crying with laughter.

“Remember when you thought diaper rash cream was pomade, and you fixed your hair with it?” Mabel said, and I snorted RC out of my nose.

“Hey – it held its style. You just didn’t appreciate my ingenuity,” Calvin replied.

I was still sputtering giggles when Mr. Conner began speaking in his low voice, immediately quieting us. Taking us back over a hundred years, Mr. Conner told the tale of a sweet young slave girl named Jezzie, and how she had been tragically murdered right on that very farm. According to Mr. Conner, Jezzie was a kind soul, and even took care of the cruel master in his time of need. But the other slaves hated her for it and, during a terrible, dark thunderstorm, they beat her to death with human bones in a fit of rage. I was following him up to that point, as enthralled as everybody else. But the human bones as clubs part sounded a little far-fetched to me. Catching Calvin’s attention, I mouthed to him, “Is this real?” He shrugged and looked away, a little too quickly.

Whether true or not, I shivered as the trees rustled with unrest.

“That’s why Jezzie still haunts this farm,” Mr. Conner was saying. “Yep, she’s still in these parts. See, she’s trying to find who would have betrayed and killed her like that. And on a warm night sometimes, a night like this one as a matter of fact, you can sometimes hear her calling out in the night. Wanting to know who did this to her.”

Hank and Elton sat stock still next to each other on a hay bale, their knobby knees lined up like four baseballs on a bench. Cora burrowed into Mabel’s side, and Kathleen was curled up on Mrs. Conner’s lap. We all sat tense, like we were each straining to hear Jezzie moaning in the wind. Then, out of nowhere, we heard it.

“Whoooo! Whoooo!”

I nearly jumped out of my skin as several of the kids screamed. Mr. Conner broke into a wide grin as the barn owl that had been the source of our fright took flight from the open hayloft. As I watched its dark shadow, breathing deep to calm my own racing heart, it didn’t escape my notice that Calvin was snorting at our expressions, annoyingly smug.

As the moon began to rise, Mrs. Conner gathered up the kids to head inside. She tried to talk Hank into staying the night with them, but it was Elton’s pleading that finally won him over. Hank hesitated, looking uncertainly back towards our house. He was probably hoping that when they called Mama to ask if it was okay, she would say she missed him and order him to come straight home. But the reality was he wouldn’t get any of Mama’s attention tonight, not with the party going on. He would just end up putting himself to bed, all alone.

Hank ran over to give me an awkward hug (he knew I wouldn’t let him off without one) and I patted the sweaty blond curls pasted to his head, then he waved to the others before following Elton to the house. I watched him go, hoping he’d have a good time, glad that he would be safe. Mr. Conner checked on the animals and made sure the pasture gates were locked before heading in. He called out good-night and then added, with a perfectly straight face, to watch out for spooks.

I shivered with excitement tinged with fear, a feeling I loved. Our prospects for contacting spirits were looking promising, and I was ready to get started. I jumped up. “Let’s do some ghost hunting,” I said. Ghost hunting had become a favorite pastime of ours over recent weeks, and that was before the added allure of Jezzie and the murderous slaves.

Mabel was on board with that. “Goody!” she squealed, as she darted off to the barn for some flashlights. She quickly returned, but she’d only found two flashlights that worked, so two of us would be running blind.

“Give me one of those,” Lorelei bossed. She took the big silver one, which left a smaller flashlight for someone else.

“I don’t need one,” said Calvin.

“Me neither,” I said, not to be outdone.  Mabel shrugged and flipped on the other light, and we were off.

According to the unofficial rules of ghost hunting, we were each to venture out into the woods surrounding the barn and look for ghosts, while at the same time looking for opportunities to scare each other. Calvin and I were the best at it. I had good night vision, and I wasn’t scared of much. And he knew the woods better than anyone else.

I immediately took off towards the west. There was a trail there that wound around across a small creek, and doubled back towards the barn. I knew this trail almost as well as Calvin—I’d walked and played on it enough times. As I crept through the forest, I dodged big tree limbs that reached for me like earth’s claws. I swatted at mosquitoes that bit at my neck and brushed aside brand new webs that would be rebuilt as soon as I passed. I moved quickly, intent on putting some distance between myself and Calvin, my ghost-hunting nemesis.

When I reached the creek, I listened for gurgling but there was none. It was dry, which was a blessing and a nuisance – a blessing because I could cross it quickly, and a nuisance because I didn’t have the sound of running water to mask my movements.  I leapt across, crouching when I landed, and paused to listen. I heard scores of frogs and crickets and, yes, some rustling twenty or so yards to my right. It could be some nocturnal animal—a raccoon or possum, but I had to be vigilant. Calvin was sneaky, and I couldn’t afford to be caught unaware.

As stealthily as possible, I made my way slowly along the trail, performing a continuous sweeping scan of the foliage as I walked. Then I was entering a part of the trail that was covered by dense trees, where the moonlight was obstructed with such finality it was like someone flipped a switch. I paused just before entering that section, and I couldn’t help thinking about the wicked witch’s forest in The Wizard of Oz. It had that kind of ominous feel, as though it were not just dark but some kind of spatial vortex that consumed light. It was the kind of place where ghosts would linger. At that thought, the hair stood up on my arms and across my neck. My heartbeat sped up and thundered in my ears, even as I strained to listen more intently for unnatural presences.

For a moment, I was frozen by fear. But that was unacceptable. I couldn’t stand the thought of Calvin coming upon me, seeing me scared stiff. He would never let me live that down.  By force of will, I took a step into the void. Immediately, it was like I’d crossed into another world. There were no frogs singing or crickets chirping here, and even though I knew they continued their songs just a few yards away, they seemed miles distant. All of my nerve endings were alert, as every part of me reached out with its senses. It was the brief blast of cool air that really made my skin crawl, and I knew I was not alone.

My instincts told me to run, but my feet were planted on the hard ground. I surveyed the dark shapes around me, my eyes wide and unblinking. Shadows flitted in my peripheral vision, and flapping rustled leaves above my head. Skittering noises to my left and right made me jumpy. And then I saw it. Something white, flickering between the trees – visible one second, then gone, then visible again.

“Jezzie?” I whispered, hoping that it was her and not one of her murderers. I forced myself to take a step forward. There it was again, off in the distance. At times it seemed to have a distinct human form, and I thought that I might be seeing my first real live ghost. I was thrilled and terrified all at once. I took another step, and searched again. There! It seemed closer this time, as it flashed between the trees.

Could this be real? Could I be on the brink of an encounter? I’d sensed the presence of sprits before, particularly during our séances. At times, I felt as though I shared a connection with them, like they were conveying their deepest desires and emotions through me. Calvin was convinced it was just my over-active imagination. Maybe so – I would concede to having a healthy imagination. But I liked to think it was something more, that I had perceptions the normal person did not.

I heard a sound to my right, and it was very close. I spun around, my heart pounding. Nothing. And if there was something, I’m not sure I would have seen it. It was just too dark.

“Is that you Jezzie?” I spoke softly, and the wind carried my words away.

I sensed the presence at my back a moment before it touched me. Fingers brushed my neck, and I lost it.

“Shit, shit, shit!” I screamed, and I started to run. Pounding feet followed me as I barreled through the trees. Lights and darks flitted all around, giving chase. Up ahead, I saw the break in the trees, and I prayed that I would reach it in time.

I didn’t. Something clamped over my arm and jerked me to a stop. And I collided with a big, solid form.

“I got you!” Calvin said into my hair.

My chest was heaving with fear and adrenaline, when I noticed the wood smoke slash cow poop smell that I knew so well.

“Oh, you!” I said, punching at his chest. “You asshole.” I punched him again.

“That’s four cuss words in a row. Don’t you need to do some Hail Marys or something?” I could feel his smirk in the dark. He was still holding my arm, and I shrugged it off. I glared at him, and as my eyes adjusted to the filtered moonlight that now came through, I could see his eyes shining in the night. I was so mad I could spit, and at the same time so relieved I wanted to hug him.

Of course, I wasn’t about to follow through on the second impulse. Instead, without another word, I turned and stalked off, back towards the campfire. I could hear him coming after me.

“Aww, Sus. Don’t be mad. You’d have done the same thing to me, if you found me talking to dead people in the middle of the woods.”

I knew he was right, but I was too embarrassed to say so. Plus, I wasn’t sure I could trust my voice not to shake.

Across the field, I saw Mabel bending over with her hands on her knees, as though she were panting from exertion. Lorelei was lounging on her hay bale once again, none the worse for wear. Her white shirt glowed, and I wondered briefly whether it was Lorelei that I’d seen in the woods. It seemed unlikely because I couldn’t imagine my sister wandering at night through the part of the woods I’d just exited, particularly without her flashlight on. But was that really any more unlikely than the alternative? That I’d seen Jezzie?

“Susanna,” Calvin said from behind me. Man, he was persistent. He grabbed my arm and pulled me to a stop. I refused to turn around and look at him, so he was forced to come about and stand in front of me. I glanced at Mabel and Lorelei to see whether they were watching, and it didn’t appear that they’d seen us yet.

I glowered at him. “What?”

He looked me right in the eyes. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

“You didn’t,” I said, turning my head.

“Hey.” He reached up and touched my chin, turning my face towards his. I felt a jolt, and it made me uneasy. We didn’t touch each other like that, ever. And as though he suddenly remembered that fact, he dropped his hand.

“I am really sorry.” I looked at him and he seemed so earnest, I couldn’t be mad. Plus, he was absolutely right – I would have done the same to him in a heartbeat, and reveled in it.

I took in his white t-shirt and had a thought. “Was that you?” I asked.

“Huh?”

“In the woods, running through the trees ahead of me.”

“No, I was behind you. I’d just found you when you had your little “shit fit,” so to speak.”

I grabbed his shirt. “Are you lying to me? Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying. I don’t know what you saw, but it wasn’t me.”

I searched his face, but I didn’t detect any deception.  “Okay,” I said slowly. I was turning around to walk back towards the fire, when I saw something white flash in the corner of my vision.

“There!” I said, pointing. He turned around to look, but it was gone, whatever it was. I stood still for a moment, searching, but I didn’t see it again.

Shrugging, I turned back towards the fire and started walking. As we made our way back over to Mabel and Lorelei, I was secretly glad that Calvin was with me. I was feeling a little creeped out.

“Who screamed?” Mabel asked when she saw us.

Calvin looked at me, but he didn’t say a word.

“I did,” I said. “Calvin got me good.” I glanced at him, expecting him to gloat, but he was stirring the fire with a stick.

“Well, you scared the crap out of me,” said Mabel. “I came high-tailing it back to the fire.”

“What are we going to do now?” Lorelei asked, like she was bored.

Chapter 2: Frenchy-Frenchy

“Truth or dare, Susanna,” Lorelei was saying, but I barely heard her. I was still in shock over what she’d just been dared to do by Mabel, and how enthusiastically she’d complied. I wasn’t quite sure how we’d ended up here, playing a game that’s generally only played between girls. But yet here we were, and things had deteriorated quickly. Somehow, we’d graduated from the supernatural to the unnatural in a few short minutes.

Even before Mabel suggested playing Truth or Dare I was feeling unsettled. The ghost hunting, including its hair-raising climax, had gotten my adrenaline pumping, and I was having a hard time chasing away my jitters. I told myself it was because I’d had a heck of a scare, and that the strange encounter with Calvin, when he’d touched my face, had nothing to do with it. I almost believed it. But then Mabel veered us down a path that, in some ways, was even more frightening. And from the scared rabbit expression on Calvin’s face, he seemed like he might have been regretting his decision to stick around.

The game had started off slowly, with everybody choosing “truth” and answering questions about who you would marry and have you ever kissed anybody before (the French kind, with tongues). Mabel and I each picked a famous person as our ideal husband. Calvin declined to answer on the basis that it was a stupid question. Lorelei was the only one that gave a real answer, but it was some boy that went to one of the Catholic high schools and none of us knew him. Then we progressed to questions about French kissing. I never got the question, thank goodness. My answer would have been embarrassing, especially after learning that Calvin spent seven minutes in heaven with Barbara Big-boobs and now was some kind of make-out king. The only truly uncomfortable moment so far came when Calvin admitted he’d sometimes seen Lorelei and me getting dressed in front of our window when it was dark outside. He assured us it was accidental, but I was still mortified. I guess I thought that since we couldn’t see out through the screen, no one could see in.

Still, except for his obvious discomfort about his “accidental” spying, even Calvin had begun to visibly relax. But then it was Mabel’s turn again, and when she asked Lorelei the big question, I could tell before Lorelei said a word that she would choose “dare.” When she did, Mabel smiled slow and wide and my skin prickled.

“I dare you … to …” while she hesitated, Calvin gave us a mock drum roll. “I got it. Take your shirt off and run around the fire topless!”

The drum roll abruptly fizzled, and I gasped like a clumsy cymbal.

“Mabel, I think you’ve flipped your lid,” Calvin sputtered, when he found his voice. But Lorelei thought it was a good dare, and the next thing I knew, she was peeling off her top, revealing her cross-your-heart white cotton bra. I expected her to stop there, but instead she reached around behind her back and began to unfasten the clasp. Lorelei was scared to walk through the woods at night without a flashlight, but apparently topless traipsing was no big deal.

As Lorelei undressed, Mabel’s eyes widened and she shifted up on her knees. Calvin glanced at the sky, at the fire, towards his house – anywhere except at Lorelei. I barked at him to close his eyes.

“It’s okay, he doesn’t have to,” Lorelei said. But Calvin seemed grateful for some instruction, and he closed his eyes tightly, even shielding them with his hands. He’d barely covered them when Lorelei dropped the bra to the ground. Whooping like a wild Indian, she ran around the outside of the campfire. Mabel cheered while Lorelei’s water balloon breasts pounded her ribcage.

In seconds, Lorelei was back at her seat. She pulled her top back over her head and told Calvin it was safe to look. He was hesitant to open his eyes, I could tell. But when he did, I looked at Calvin and he looked at me, both of us a little traumatized. Mabel and Lorelei, on the other hand, were grinning hugely. They’d found a common bond – an appreciation for outrageous personal expression. I personally thought we ought to stop before someone had to jump through the fire naked or tip cows blindfolded or something equally extreme, and I said so. Or better yet, we could search for the mysterious white ghost in the woods, a prospect that seemed infinitely less risky than playing this game with Mabel and Lorelei. But Lorelei wasn’t about to let us quit.

“It’s just getting good,” she argued, and Mabel whole-heartedly agreed. That’s when Lorelei turned to me, smiling slyly. “Truth or dare, Susanna.”

Well, I knew what the answer had to be. I wasn’t going to be a wimp, especially with Calvin there. I just hoped it wasn’t anything too embarrassing.

“Dare.” Even to my own ears, my voice was flatter than Sister Agatha reciting the multiplication tables.

Lorelei slapped her hands together and rubbed them back and forth.

“I dare you to … “I waited, and the pause was excruciatingly long. Turned out, it wasn’t long enough.

“French kiss Calvin!” she said. I hit my ear with my palm to clear it, because I was sure I hadn’t heard right.

“Yes!” Mabel exclaimed, clapping her hands. “That’s a great one.”

Well, that was not what I was expecting. I just stared at her, my mouth hanging open stupidly. Calvin seemed not to know what to do, and he just looked from one crazy girl to the next. Finally, he looked at me. I didn’t want to look at him, but I couldn’t turn away either. So we just stared at each other, dumbfounded, sharing a moment of uncertainty.

“Susanna, you don’t have to,” he said to me, but instead of making me feel better, it kind of hurt my feelings.

“Oh, yes she does,” Lorelei corrected. “She chose dare, and that’s my dare. It’s no worse than running around the campfire with your titties hanging out.”

She had a point, there.

I took deep breaths to calm my nerves and cast a nervous glance at Calvin. I searched his face intently for any sign of disgust or dread, but I didn’t see any. As I considered, I flashed back to earlier when he’d touched my face in the dark. And while it had surprised me, I decided it wasn’t entirely unpleasant, being close to Calvin. I reached a decision – if I had to share a first kiss with someone, it might as well be with him.

“A dare’s a dare,” I shrugged, though my stomach fluttered.

Somehow I gathered the strength to move over to his hay bale. I sat down next to him and my bare legs brushed his jeans. Even through denim, he was warm as the fire.

“Come on, smoochy, smoochy,” Mabel goaded.

“Mabel,” I said, turning to her. “I can’t do this if you’re going to say stupid things.”

“Okay, I’ll shut up.” She pretended to zip her lips, lock them closed and throw away the key.

Looking back at Calvin, I faltered. He saw it and offered me a private smile that was meant to comfort me, but I was still terrified. This was much scarier than ghosts.

He hesitated for a moment, and when it was clear I had absolutely no idea what to do, he tilted his head to the side and moved in. I froze. All I could see were lips coming towards me, so I tried to focus on other parts of his face. I noticed he had an asymmetrical spray of whiskers across his upper lip, and that his nose was sunburned and peeling, revealing a pink patch of baby skin shaped like Texas.

The closer he came, the nearer I was to full-on panic. But then he was right there, a breath away. When I was sure there was no turning back, I closed my eyes and waited.

And his mouth was on mine. Wow.  Immediately a rush of heat soared down through my middle all the way to places I usually don’t talk about in polite company. I wasn’t sitting outside under the stars any longer – I was in a dream and falling, drowning even. I flailed around for a bit, figuratively speaking, but after a moment, I started to get the hang of it. I liked that he smelled of beef jerky, and that his lips were slightly sticky, sweet as marshmallows.

This was actually very nice, I realized.

But he was only getting started. The next instant, he pressed his lips harder against mine and suddenly our mouths were open. That was surprising enough, but when his tongue touched the space between, I went over the moon and didn’t come down. Colors flashed against my eyelids, quick, like the strobe effect of an old movie reel, and chills raced in and out of secret places even I didn’t know I had.

He kissed and kissed me, and I could have let him keep kissing me forever. After a minute or twelve, my hands grew restless, itching to latch onto something. I was timid, but they had a mind of their own and I found myself reaching towards him. They settled on his shirt, where they rested lightly. I could sense his chest beneath the fabric, and I wanted to press my fingers against it, to feel whether it was firm and angular as I imagined. But I was too shy.

I’d had no idea that this was what kissing was like, but I really, really liked it. We should have started doing it a long time ago! I thought, and I suddenly realized that having a boy for a best friend was actually pretty brilliant.

I should have been more focused. While my brain was strategizing about how and when we could do this again, I didn’t realize that the kiss was ending. When he broke it, he cut loose my tether and now I was floating away into the void. I was still somewhere else, and I didn’t want to come back. But then that part was over too, and I was back – on a hay bale, listening to Mabel’s giggles and the sound of crackling logs, shivering from a cool breeze.

I didn’t want to, but I opened my eyes slowly, afraid of what I would see. But it was just Calvin, the same boy I’d known since forever. Except that he was looking at me very intently, and I was quite sure this was the first time we’d ever stared into each other’s eyes like this. His were brown and beautiful as a doe’s, by the way. I’d never noticed that before.

“They did it! They actually did it!” Mabel yelped, bouncing on her knees. “I cannot believe it. You did the Frenchy-Frenchy with my brother!”

Mabel’s excitement broke the spell, and we turned away from each other. Suddenly I was extremely embarrassed, and I could no longer look at him at all. It was beginning to seem unreal that just a couple of minutes ago, I was certain kissing was going to become our new favorite pastime.

By the time I stumbled back over to my hay bale, I noticed that Lorelei was eyeing us speculatively.

“What?” I snapped, anxious to regain my previous persona of unflappability.

Her eyes were trained on me. “Well? How was it?”

“Leave her alone,” said Calvin, and I felt a rush of affection to hear him defend me.

“Maybe I was asking you,” Lorelei replied. She turned her eyes on him. “Maybe I’d like a turn.” I had been feeling a little dazed, but this got my attention. I looked at Calvin to see his reaction, and for a split second, I pictured him grinning at his amazing good fortune. When I actually did look at him, he looked stunned – his mouth worked, but no words came out.

“Oh, things are getting really crazy now,” said Mabel, and in the next moment, Lorelei was crossing the short distance to Calvin. She sat next to him, grabbed the front of his shirt and crushed her lips against him.

My jaw dropped in disbelief, and my stomach flipped in an unpleasant way that was the opposite of what I’d experienced kissing Calvin. But then my shock faded and I really started to get pissed off. Curling my hands into fists, I was two seconds away from punching Lorelei right in the kisser, no pun intended. But then Calvin began to respond, and my swell of territorial fury abruptly died. His hands twitched, and Lorelei felt it. Her fingers weren’t shy at all – they reached right up and went into his hair.

I was sure that Calvin was about to wrap his arms around her at any second, and my humiliation would be complete. But he didn’t. He seemed to be trying to resist – after the hand twitching, he had balled his hands into fists. I fantasized it was because he wanted to punch Lorelei too. I wanted to tell him that I could do the punching – all he had to do was stop the dang kissing! Before either of us could take action, Lorelei abruptly pulled back. Like me, she stopped and looked into his eyes. But there was no intimacy in her gaze, only puzzlement, like she couldn’t understand why he did not react as she expected. She stood up and went back to her seat. “I’m bored. Let’s do something else.”

I knew that tone – that was Lorelei’s pissed off tone. Well, she wasn’t the only one who was pissed. I wanted to ask her where she got off, right then and there. I might have done it, too, if Mabel and Lorelei hadn’t started talking about Jezzie and ghosts as they kicked dirt over the dying fire. Instead, I looked over at Calvin. He had not moved, but was still sitting with a stunned expression on his face. In a hot wave, my anger shifted towards him. He hadn’t given in exactly, but he hadn’t pushed Lorelei away either.

Once the fire was extinguished, Mabel and Lorelei decided it was time to conduct a séance up in the hayloft. I didn’t even care about that anymore. All I could think was how awful I felt, like I’d been betrayed, and I how I did not want to spend another minute with my sister. But I couldn’t say so, not without showing how hurt I was.

When the slumber party moved toward the barn, I followed because I couldn’t reason a better alternative. Glancing back at where Calvin was pulling the hay bales to one side, safely away from any remaining embers, I wanted to say something, but I didn’t know what. Should we discuss what just happened? Did we need to establish new boundaries for our friendship? Should I tell him that the kiss meant something to me, and point out that it I was sure it hadn’t meant a thing to Lorelei? But I didn’t say anything. Instead, I climbed the ladder to the loft, lost in thoughts that made no sense.

He startled me when he called out a good-night. But that wasn’t the worst of it.

He sounded infuriatingly normal, like nothing had changed at all.

Chapter 3: Shelly and the Jerk

For the rest of the summer, I went on native hunting expeditions in the woods, fished for bull sharks in the mystical creeks, and rode horses to escape from wild Indians. In other words, I used fantasy as a way to avoid reality, whatever that was. When I wasn’t occupying my mind with adventures, I alternated between feeling extremely irritated that my world had been so rudely upended by the events of that night at the campfire, and dipped in melancholy thick as molasses to think Calvin might prefer Lorelei to me, or worse, that he was completely unmoved by me at all.

Immediately following the camp-out, I’d taken my cues from Calvin, who behaved as though the kissing never happened. It wasn’t quite as easy for me, but I was more than agreeable as we immersed ourselves in activities that didn’t require much talking or close physical interaction. Careful avoidance was the objective, in the hopes that memories would dull. And as we rode horses in single file along narrow trails and played stickball with the kids, I almost convinced myself that I must have dreamed the whole thing.

But then the day came when I could no longer fool myself. We were meeting at the big creek for a swim, and though we’d done so a million times before, this time was different. I’d kissed Calvin, and despite my dedication to denial, I no longer looked at him the same way. He had turned adorable, making my insides roll around like socks in the dryer whenever he flashed his half-smile my way. And without clomping hooves or fly balls to distract us, I worried that all my feelings, which I’d worked so hard to suppress, would overwhelm me in his presence or, worse, become obvious to him.

On top of my anxiety about our pending proximity, I was also dealing with my recent revelation that I was not a kid anymore, and hadn’t been for some time. It wasn’t that I was ignorant. I’d learned about raging sex hormones and menstruation from the Sisters, and I’d noticed, vaguely, that my body had been changing. Still, I’d vigorously resisted it, to the extent that every four or five weeks when I was reluctantly compelled to strap on my sanitary napkin belt, I’d pretended I was secretly wounded in some imaginary battle across enemy lines, as I nursed myself back to health for the six or seven days it took to “heal”. But it didn’t end there. Mama had gotten me my first bra, so my headlights wouldn’t be on high-beam in t-shirts, as she so delicately put it. But I’d seen old men with bigger boobs than me, and they didn’t scoop them up into a harness. So I had been refusing to wear it on principle.

But there was no denying it anymore.

As Hank and I walked through the woods towards the big creek at the rear of the property, I was overcome by an almost clinical self-awareness. And as I began to notice my body in earnest, I realized, with great horror, that I, in all my newly discovered womanly glory, was about to meet up with Calvin wearing a bathing suit. Briefly, I fantasized that Calvin would look at me differently, notice that I was becoming a woman. Like I’d so recently done, perhaps he would suddenly awaken to my blooming sexuality and find it irresistible. I even went as far as to imagine a scene where the awestruck hero would swoon at the sight of the princess, so taken by her that he would rush to make half-naked (but heart-felt) declarations of love, like some sort of naughty fairy tale. But when I looked down at my body, how my small breasts were flattened by a one-piece made for little girls and how my knees were scabbed over, scraped up from sliding into third base one too many times, I knew it was no use. I wasn’t ever going to compare to Lorelei, with her curves and long silky hair. I’d fought my journey into womanhood for too long, and it was going to take a while to get back on track.

Like most things in life, my imagination held much more drama than the reality of finding Calvin and Mabel fishing from the bank, their appearance there as familiar and comforting as home at the end of a long trip. My obsessive fretting suddenly seemed absurd and, after scolding myself at my foolishness, I was quick to join my two best friends at the water’s edge as Hank followed the younger ones into its depths. Determined to regain my sense of footing, I’d been even quicker to demonstrate my vast fishing knowledge as I proudly baited my own hook and cast the line into the blue-green water. But then I caught a turtle which I promptly sent soaring over our heads with my vigorous reeling, and what little remaining pride I had quickly dispersed like the dust cloud I created by diving to the ground. Calvin rescued the little guy, and despite my embarrassment and tinge of envy I felt when I heard the sweet way he spoke to the turtle, I was moved by his kindness.

Fishing was over at that point and we joined the younger ones in the water. When Mabel suggested we play baptism, I went along even though I didn’t really get the allure. But she was excited, and as the kids lined up, she drew Elton to stand in front of her. She recited a complicated pledge as she placed her hand on Elton’s dripping head. Then she called on the trinity, which was the one part I could understand, as she rather forcefully dunked him backward with both hands. She held him there for long enough that my protective instincts started to kick in, but she hauled him up before it was necessary for me to initiate a rescue. As water flew from his sanctified head, Mabel beamed with satisfaction – Baptists make a big deal about getting dunked. When we were kids, I had tried to explain to Calvin and Mabel about the sacraments and purgatory and all that. They never did get it.  When it was Hank’s turn, I stepped in. I don’t know why, exactly. I guess because I felt like it was my job to look after Hank’s soul, and I’d been doing it since he was a baby.

Then someone suggested we play Tag and Elton slammed into me, declaring me ‘IT’! But before the game could start in earnest, I noticed that Mabel was distracted, looking towards a spot in the trees at my back. Following her gaze, I found Lorelei standing on the bank, her hands on her hips. She looked torn between making fun of us for acting like babies and joining in. But since she was wearing regular clothes, she settled on scoffing. Maybe she was a little jealous, too. After all, she hadn’t been invited.

“Get out,” she’d ordered. “It’s time to go home and get cleaned up for dinner.”

I felt my temper rise at being told what to do, but the others were already climbing up the bank. I wasn’t inclined to take her orders on a good day, but things had been strained with Lorelei ever since the camp-out and I was even less enthusiastic about listening to her now. I turned to Calvin and Mabel’s reactions, because if they were as annoyed as I was, I was going to give Lorelei a piece of my mind. What I saw instead made my stomach roll – Calvin was staring at Lorelei like he couldn’t tear his eyes away. She was wearing a t-shirt that was too small, in my opinion. It was stretched across her bosom like taffy. She had on her white shorts, and the artful, smooth contrast of her brown legs reminded me of sculpted wood.

My stomach lurched, launching acid into my throat, as I considered my own appearance.  I glanced down at my chest, at the baby breasts I was just getting used to – Lorelei liked to call them mosquito bites, and I could see why when I compared them to hers. I looked at her pretty long hair and I felt my own matted wet pony tail, tangled with a couple of sticks and some leaves. I didn’t think it was possible to feel more of a complete contrast from Lorelei.

She’s not as sexy as you think, Mister, I’d thought crossly, looking again at Calvin’s dumbstruck expression. I pictured how awful Lorelei looked without her makeup, or how frizzy her hair still got on rainy days, and how ridiculous she looked with her head covered in juice cans.  I told myself that if Calvin could see Lorelei the way she really was, he wouldn’t be drooling over her. But then a worse thought occurred to me, crooked in a sneaking finger of insecurity – maybe Lorelei’s kiss had meant more to him than the one he shared with me.

As this horrible idea took root, the air whooshed from my lungs like I’d been punched and tears sprang to my eyes.  I looked up at the trees until I could bite them back. When the stinging subsided, it was replaced by the burn of jealousy as ugly words itched at my tongue, rolling against my teeth. I glanced at Lorelei, who was standing a little awkwardly against a tree, alone. I wanted to hate her, and a little part of me did. But I couldn’t bring myself to blame it all on her. Calvin was the one staring at her, like an idiot. The more I considered it, the more I couldn’t believe that he was so openly gawking, especially with me right beside him.  If he weren’t my best friend, I would have smacked him upside the head until he got his senses back.

If I hadn’t been such a chicken, I might have tried to convince him to look at me that way, instead.

Things were not the same after that day. By summer’s end, I was chagrined to find that I had wasted more than a few perfectly lovely summer afternoons listening to love songs on my transistor radio and writing poetry that no one will ever read in this lifetime. Adding to my consternation was the sad fact that my interactions with Calvin had become painfully awkward – so much so that we weren’t really hanging out anymore. And while Mabel was still one of my best friends, I was growing weary of the energy it took to deflect her unending questions about why I was perpetually spaced out.

By the time school started in the fall, I knew I had to do something to get my mind off Calvin and I decided new friends and cute boys were just the answer. I considered it destiny that I met Shelly in lunchroom purgatory on the first day of eighth grade. It’s the place you pass through just after you’ve picked up your tray but before you find someone you know, the one lonely buoy in a sea of white Peter Pan collars and plaid. We’d locked eyes over lima beans and country fried steak.

Shelly couldn’t be more different from the Conners – she smoked Virginia Slims in a brass cigarette holder behind the dumpster out back of the parish rectory, and wore white lipstick and Jean Nate splash between her breasts. She carried her contraband smokes, personal products and even snacks in the waistband of her highly elasticized white cotton panties. I learned this one day when I made the mistake of asking for a piece of gum – I’ve never thought of Juicy Fruit in quite the same way again.

As far as boys were concerned, she considered herself a broker of sorts. She convinced me that the Catholic boys’ schools were full of guys looking for someone exactly like me, and that dances were the perfect place for a little transacting. I’d already made up my mind to try to forget about Calvin – at least in the romantic sense. So by the first dance of the season, I was up for a little commerce.

“Who do you think will be there?” We were in my room getting ready together so that Shelly could monitor my wardrobe choices. I speculated about a roomful of cute boys which all began to look like Calvin in my imagination. Shaking my head to clear it, I focused on trying to tame my cowlick into a side part with V05 while Shelly ironed her own hair.

“All the cute guys from St. John’s. I told you about Kenny, that boy that goes to my parish. He’s very cute, and so are his friends. Me and Lydia used to walk by the basketball court when they were playing with our bras padded out to here,” she said, gesturing out from her chest. Shelly was referring to her former best friend, who had transferred to the public school to be a cheerleader.

“Did they notice you?”

“Of course. Oh, they acted like they didn’t, but once this dark-haired boy with the tightest butt ran right into another boy because he was so distracted by us.”

She told me other stories while we got ready, making me laugh at her audacity. When we were finally done, Shelly’s hair was three inches tall at the crown, and she wore false eyelashes. My hair was formidable too, but I refused the lashes – I knew Mama would notice Twiggy eyes in a heartbeat, and I wasn’t about to give her an excuse to detain us. I did let Shelly put a little mascara and blush on me – the effect was suitably subtle, and I figured it would pass muster. But I declined the lipstick, at least while we were still at home. So Shelly tucked the Yardley Slicker tube in her bra so we could apply it in the car.

Lorelei drove us to the dance, which I suppose was nice of her. But I wasn’t of a mind to act appreciative. I was still pissed about what she’d done at the camp-out, though I’d refused to give her the satisfaction of voicing just how much she’d hurt me. Turned out, I didn’t have to say it. It was obvious she knew she’d acted despicably, given her uncharacteristic solicitousness in recent weeks. This was a familiar pattern with my older sister – she’d do something mean and spiteful, sometimes I think without even knowing why, and spend weeks surreptitiously trying to make amends. Driving me around and spontaneously lending me her prize Schwinn Starlet was her messed up way of apologizing, and I knew it well.

After she dropped us off, we paused in the parking lot to check our outfits, but we didn’t linger. The gymnasium beckoned to us with thumping percussion that rattled loose window panes and the murmur of excited voices, floating on the air like ghost whispers, and we hurried after them. Inside, the dance floor was defined by awkwardly draped streamers, but the effort was wasted. The dancers seemed to be unconsciously sticking to the boundaries formed by the basketball court markings. The band consisted of five high school boys dressed in black turtlenecks and sporting shag haircuts. Their band name, The Breckenridge Sound, was inscribed in psychedelic script on the face of the base drum, and the decent rendition of I Want to Hold Your Hand, confirmed their obvious musical inspiration. There were a few couples grooving on the dance floor, but otherwise the gymnasium was as divided as the Red Sea just before Moses’ passage, with a tide of shy and giggling girls on one side, and a wave of deliberately disinterested boys on the other.

As we stood on the fringe, Shelly scanned the crowd for familiar faces, and finding some, grabbed my arm and dragged me towards the sea of females. Amongst the larger group of girls from school was a cluster of girls in serious discussion off to one side. Zeroing in on them, Shelly deposited me next to the wall. “Stay here,” she said. “I’m going to find out what’s the scoop.” She slid off and I watched as she deftly melded into the group. After a few minutes, she slipped away.

When she got back to me, she was smiling. “Oh, this is great.”

“What?”

“Kathy and Chip broke up.” She almost squealed, she was so downright gleeful about it. “He’s so cute.  If I didn’t like Kenny, I would definitely have a thing for Chip.” I asked which one he was, and she discretely pointed out a boy with curly black hair, wearing a blue shirt. He was leaning casually against the wall, laughing at something one of the other guys was saying. His feet were crossed and his hands were in his pockets, and he looked like he was not the least bit interested in any of the girls in the room.

I had to admit, on the cuteness scale, he was off the charts. I thought immediately he was out of my league. Add to that the fact that I had no experience attracting boys. Needless to say, I was a little nervous about what Shelly had in mind, but I tried to play it cool. “I see him – he’s not bad. But you don’t think I’m going to go after Kathy’s ex-boyfriend with her standing right over there?”

“Who gives a flip what Kathy thinks?  And you are not going to go after him, we’re going to get him to come after you.” Before I could respond, Shelly pulled me out of the gymnasium and into the hallway where the bathrooms were. Shelly reached her hands around my waist and grabbed my skirt.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m setting the bait,” she answered as she methodically rolled the waist band on my skirt until it was a good three inches shorter. “I hope you shaved.”

“Of course I did,” I lied, not wanting to admit that she didn’t really have to shave my legs that often. We went back in and moseyed over to the refreshments.

“Just look at me, not at them,” Shelly instructed. “Laugh like I said something funny.  Oh look, what a lovely shade of chartreuse this tablecloth is.  It reminds me of puke. Doesn’t it you?”  She kept on until I was laughing in spite of my jangled nerves. A crash behind us made us both start. When we turned, one of the boys was being hauled off the floor – it was Kenny.

“Kenny, is that you? I didn’t realize you would be here.”

“How’s it going, Shelly?” He was leaning up against the painted block walls again, cool as a cucumber.

They made small talk for a few minutes, and she introduced me. When Kenny didn’t make introductions, Shelly prompted him. “Who’re your friends?”

Kenny looked startled. Emily Post he was not. “This is Keith and this is Chip,” he finally said.

“Hey,” they both replied in unison, before turning their attention back to the dance floor and to the four or five brave couples that were getting down to the music. We stood there for a few awkward minutes, giving them ample opportunity to ask us to dance. When the song changed and the band starting playing I Can’t Get No Satisfaction, by the Rolling Stones, Shelly took my cup and handed both our drinks to Kenny.

“Hold these for a sec, will you? We’re going to dance.”

“Uh, sure.”

Shelly pulled me onto the dance floor.

“Time to get their attention,” Shelly said as she began to move to the beat of the song.

“I think that’s impossible.” I tried to copy Shelly’s swivels and side-steps, not quite successfully.

Shelly twirled around so that the hem of her skirt sailed to a most revealing height. “Let’s do the Jerk,” she said, and began performing an emphatic version of the dance we’d seen on Bandstand. I tried to join in, but could not muster quite the same enthusiasm.

“Come on, Susanna. Put some oomph into it.”

“I can’t do it like you can, Shelly.  Some talents are just beyond me.”

“Of course you can. Boobs are power, and you need to learn to use them to your advantage.” Shelly said, as she stuck hers out as far as they would go. Truthfully, it wasn’t that far. But she made me laugh and even forget about the boys we were trying to impress.

When the song ended, we hung on each other, out of breath. I barely noticed as Kenny and Chip walked up.

“You girls sure like to dance, huh?” Kenny asked with his stunning vernacular. Our drinks were gone, I noticed. Behind him, the band played the opening chords of Unchained Melody. “Wanna dance?” he asked, and I began to wonder whether Chip could speak.

“Why not?” Shelly answered for both of us. Grabbing Kenny, she pulled him into the middle of the dance floor.

“Hi there,” Chip said, coming up to me. He reached out his hand and I took it. My stomach flipped as he led me onto the dance floor. I’d never danced with any males other than Daddy and Uncle George, but I quickly saw that teenage dancing was different. I draped my arms around his neck and tried not to stare at his chin.

“You go to St. Catherine’s?” Chip asked near my ear. His breath tickled.

“Yes. I’m in eighth grade.”

“Me too,” he said.

We were quiet for a moment as I hunted for something to say. “Do you like school?” I finally asked, inwardly groaning at the inane question.

“I love it. If I didn’t have to leave for summer break, I’d stay there all year long.”

“Oh, okay,” I said, not sure what else to say.

“I’m joking, silly. School’s okay.  I mean, I want to be a doctor or lawyer or something. So education’s pretty important.”

It took me a minute to catch back up – I’d not been expecting a sarcastic response. So that’s how you’re going to play, I thought. I had plenty of experience with sarcasm, living with Mama.

“Not as important as your soul,” I said. “I’m planning to be a nun. I’m just waiting until I’m sixteen to enter the convent.”

“Wha??” I really got him with that one. He actually came to a standstill.

“Kidding,” I laughed. And after a beat, he chuckled in my ear. We started dancing again, without speaking. I’d thought myself momentarily clever, but now I was searching for something else to talk about.

“You and Kenny been friends for a l