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.