My family finally headed that way and we reached him in about a minute. He and my parents exchanged quick pleasantries, then he excitedly grabbed my arm. “They rented a bounce house! Come on!”
I looked at my parents, knowing my dad would want to appear as the good-natured dad, and waited until he nodded his permission, so Jason and I took off as fast as we could toward the large inflatable house in the side yard. It was awesome. Bright stripes of blue, green, and red puffed out around the mesh windowsand I couldn’t wait to get inside.
Jason grinned and grabbed my arm again, pulling me to the entrance. We were the only ones there, so we toed off our shoes, climbed in, and immediately started jumping and goofing around. It was as if we had never been apart. We rolled around. We summersaulted. We basically acted like five-year-olds on a sugar-high, laughing ourselves silly until we both collapsed. Suddenly, with both of our weights on oneside, we started rolling into the crevice between the blown-up floor and the mesh wall until we were wedged in pretty tight, with my body under his.
I was about to shove him off when he smiled shyly at me, his cheeks pinking. I froze. My skin tingled andI couldn’t help but notice his full pink lips only a few inches away. I instinctively licked my lips as I heard laughter outside the bounce house. Jason just stared at me with his big brown eyes, and it was asif a lightbulb literally flicked on in my brain, shining into the darkness, illuminating all those secret questions I held inside. It was all so clear to me. I suddenly knew why I didn’t like girls. I mean, how could I when boys were so much cuter?
Jason leaned in and timidly brushed his lips against mine. Oh. My. God! Electricity jolted through me and my body came to life as never before. It had been only a soft, gentle, barely-there kind of kiss, butit was enough to change my life. (“Clue #2” completes the puzzle for me.)
Jason pulled back, looking a little flushed. Neither of us moved for a moment, our eyes unable to look away.
At least until I heard my sister calling my name.
“Uh…” I tried to speak. Wow, l was so eloquent at that point in my life.
He nodded. “Yeah, umm, okay.”
We pulled ourselves out of the tight spot and headed out to find our families.
The rest of the day was a blur, but somehow I knew why I’d always felt different. It was as if a curtain had lifted and I could finally see myself for the first time. The revelation brought both joy and fear, and I spent the rest of the day in a fog. I knew if my dad found out, he would kill me. Literally. He hated “fags,” as he called them.
That day changed my life. My pseudo-cousin and I never spoke about it, but we also hadn’t seen each other since the family reunion. I often wondered if he had the same reaction I did.
Life went on, though, and the following week I started seventh grade. I didn’t dare share my new discovery with anyone. I was still letting this information settle inside and I wasn’t sure of the protocol. Keeping it a secret was necessary, though, for several reasons. My dad’s anger was at the top of that list. Also, I wasn’t sure who to trust. I mean, what would my friends think?
Although, that year I had been placed in what they called the “gifted program,” which meant I barely saw any of my old friends. I was pretty bummed about it until the second week of classes, when Jeff walked into my first period. I had been fiddling with my backpack, not really paying attention to the rest of the students shuffling in, when I heard someone clear their throat.
I glanced up and my breath hitched. There before me stood a tall, gangly boy with curly dark brown hair and a pair of icy blue eyes staring right at me. He wore some pretty hideous glasses way too big for his face and I watched, fascinated, as he used his index finger to slide them up his nose. That’s when I noticed the smattering of freckles across his pale skin. Something primal, something I had never felt before, licked at my gut. I felt disoriented as we made eye contact. And if I needed a “Clue #3,” thereit was.
He broke our gaze and stared at his shoes. “Hi, I’m Jeff Leaton,” he sort of mumbled, shuffling his feet.
“Aaron Pickard,” I offered, waiting for him to go on.