Too Young to Kiss
Before
I walked in, I quickly made way towards the girl’s room and wiped off the
sticky red lipstick my mother insisted I wear. With two paper towels and one
rinse under the sink, my innocent youthful lips were back.
The
DJ booth separates the room, boys on one side and girls on the other like
usual. It made sense though, how else should eleven year old kids act? The boys were
to the left, some on their new camera phones, exploring the new world of photos
through their mobile device; some bobbing their bodies to the beat of The Black
Eyed Peas newest hit, “Roses.” The girls
are to the right, some whispering in one another’s ear with their hands over
their mouths, telling secrets and starting drama with the group of girls next
to them. The rest of the girls dancing, showing off their dance routine they
are working on for their recital coming up in May. Meanwhile, I am thinking about
all of the excuses I could use to leave this shindig.
I
tried avoiding my friends for most of the night, but sooner or later they found
me.
“Kristen!
Dan is looking all over for you, stop being a baby and go dance with your
boyfriend!”
My
heart dropped to the pit of my stomach and I began to taste my pasta and
meatballs Mom had made for dinner. Trying to snap out of my prude funk, my
“friends” dragged poor Dan over to me.
“Uhm
DJ can you please put on a slow song?!”
Bitches.
Dan approached me, our feet met, and eyes locked. Awkwardly, we assumed the
position (the slow dancing position). I stared through the dark tunnel in his mouth
between his two front teeth. I knew if I starred for too long I would be
trapped in his dark tunnel, trapped somewhere I did not belong.
The
last verse to Christina Aguilera’s “Come on over,” song was on, and my palms
began to sweat. Dan closed his eyes, and counted to three quietly to himself
(little did he know I had extremely sensitive hearing). He came at me like my orthodontist
would moments before tightening my braces. Before I knew it, his punch stained, wet,
emotionless lips were latched onto mine, and adolescence had begun too soon.
Britney
Spears began to echo the room and Dan jolted from me before I could blink. I
began to feel the way I did when I rode my two wheeler bike before I was grown
enough; inexperienced and out of line. Meanwhile, my petty friends are proudly
hanging on to their training wheels.
The
night ended before I could say sorry to Dan. I don’t know why I wanted to say
sorry though, I was just, sorry.
Wanting
to blame the red lipstick for my lips bold actions, I shamefully stepped into
my mother’s Toyota that waited for me outside. I prayed she wouldn't ask me
about my night, but as any mother would have, she did. I wanted to tell her I wish
I had not gone, but revealing my wild woman like actions would only disappoint
her.