I don’t talk out of school. Even the first time around, I would’ve known that--if I had had anything to talk about then. I wasn’t stupid. I saw the bragging--and what that did to the girls being bragged about. What Kara and I did was only our own business.

However, I had to admit, I wonder if anyone had figured it out. Kara and I couldn’t keep our hands off of one another--even in school. We’d walk from the bus to the entrance--and it would start as holding hands and would end with our arms wrapped around one another. And, at least to me, it showed on her face. It had only been a few days, of course, but she was glowing--at least to my eyes. I wondered if anyone else noticed.

I did know that she had told one person. "I had to tell somebody, or I was going to burst!" she told me on the phone Monday night. I wasn’t going to tell, but I was the guy. I figured who she told was her business. And I especially didn’t mind, because the person she had told was Kelly.

And Kelly, when she saw me on that staircase Tuesday morning, giggled and said, "Nice going, stud--you made Kara very, very happy."

"That makes two of us," I grinned.

"So, tell me--if I had told you six months ago that you were going to lose your virginity to Kara Pocharsky, what would you have done?" she asked.

"Had you locked up, because you clearly would’ve been insane." She giggled at that one.

So, Kelly knew, but that was Kara’s doing, and I didn’t mind. I wasn’t going to tell anyone.

Well, actually, I was. Just one. There’s an exception to every rule, right? And I knew about what Kara had said--wanting to tell someone or you’d burst. Besides which, there’s some people that you can just trust.

On this date, the 18^th, I missed the bus. On purpose. But I didn’t tell Beth that, I just found her and sheepishly admitted that I had missed the bus again. She laughed, and we started walking to her house.

I was waiting until we got to the railroad tracks. And when we got there, Beth gave me the perfect opening.

"Hey, Eddie, tell me--what has gotten into you? You’re in a mood today--all week, in fact. It’s like you’re floating on a cloud. What’s up?"

"OK, I’ll tell you. I haven’t told a soul this, and the only person I ever planned on telling was you." She nodded. Then I told her. "Saturday afternoon, I lost my virginity. Kara and I had sex for the first time."

Poor Beth. She was carrying a few books in her hand. She dropped them! She just stood there, looking at me like I was an alien being or something, while I scrambled around trying to grab the papers that had fallen out of her books before they blew away down the railroad tracks!

I finally got them all gathered up, and handed them to her. She was still staring at me. "You OK, Beffy?" I asked.

"You......you.......had SEX?"

"Yeah."

"Eddie. You’re thirteen years old!"

"So, I started young."

"Eddie! I mean, GOD! What if she gets pregnant or something?"

"We took care of that, Beth. Do you think I’m stupid?"

"No. You’re not. I should’ve realized you’d think of that. Or Kara would."

"It was me," I grinned. "She was ready to go all the way a week before. I’m the one that reminded her that I didn’t have anything."

"Oh," she said, thinking about that. "So you almost did it a week ago, but stopped, and then did it this past Saturday?"

"Yeah."

"So, this wasn’t a spur of the moment thing."

"Not at all."

"Hmmm," she said, "well that makes me feel a little better. But, still! I don’t even think I could conceive of having sex this young!"

"Well, there’s two big differences between you and me."

"Yeah, I’m not a boy," she teased.

"That means nothing. I didn’t start this, you know--Kara did. So boy and girl means nothing. No, the two differences I was thinking of were this. First, you take that whole Catholic thing much more seriously than I do. You don’t believe in premarital sex."

"Yeah."

"And, secondly, you’re not in love."

"True enough. Though even if I were in love, I think the Catholic thing would still take precedence." Her voice dropped a bit. "Especially considering my current situation."

"Ah," I said, "you believe that if you had sex without marriage, you wouldn’t go to heaven. And at this point you’re pretty much counting on heaven."

"Exactly. You don’t agree with me."

"No, I don’t, but I don’t have to live with your beliefs, you do."

"You think that, even though you’ve had sex out of wedlock, you’d still go to heaven if you died tomorrow?"

I grinned at her. "First you’d have to get me to believe in heaven."

She gasped. "You don’t?"

"No."

"What do you think happens to us when we die?"

"Nothingness."

"Jeez, Eddie!"

"Don’t get me wrong; I hope you’re right and I’m wrong. Believe me, I dearly hope that. How can I not? But I just can’t buy it."

"Do you believe in God?"

"That’s a good one. I don’t know." Actually, if I had been asked this before I ‘came back’, the answer was a definite "no". I was a confirmed atheist in my previous adult life. Now, I wasn’t so sure. I mean, something sent me back 30 years. I have no idea what it was, but scientific explanations didn’t make much sense.

"Well, if there might be a God, then there might be a heaven, right?"

"Possibly." Of course, if there were a heaven, why wasn’t I there? Or hell, even? Why had I been sent back? Of course, I couldn’t say this to Beth. "I’ll say this, though--I don’t believe in much of the Bible, especially the Old Testament. And, if there is a God, I don’t think he’s worried about sex. This all comes from centuries of religious pooh-bahs trying to control people--especially women. If there’s a God, I really don’t think he cares who we screw, or when."

"You really think that?"

"I really do. Those wait-until-marriage rules made sense 100 years ago, and earlier--when people entered puberty at 14 and got married at 16. Nowadays, we enter puberty at 11

and get married after college."

She giggled. "I never thought of it that way."

"Plus, if God didn’t want us to have sex, he wouldn’t have made it so damn fun."

She laughed again. "So, was it?"

"Was it what?"

"Fun?"

"It was a whole hell of a lot of fun," I grinned.

"Yeah, I’ll bet. Like I said, you’re a guy."

"I think it’s safe to say that Kara enjoyed herself."

"I think I might just ask her," Beth grinned.

"Go ahead. I do not plan to talk about this, that’s not right. But she won’t mind that I told you."

"She really enjoyed it?"

"She told me she did. It seemed like she did."

She looked at me. "You have changed a lot in the past few months, you know. I always used to worry about you."

"With good reason," I said. "But I’m a lot better. Honestly, I can’t believe I’ve actually had sex already--and with Kara Pocharsky, of all people. But life’s a lot better than it was, or than I thought it would be--and not just because of that, either."

"Good, I really am glad," she said.

Saturday. Date day. Though we didn’t go on an actual date.

It was funny--one of my unfulfilled fantasies in my ‘former life’ was to make love outdoors. Though I’d always though of a beach at night, not Braddox Hill in the middle of the day. But it was still a trip.

Kara’s house being available for our first time was a fluke, and we knew it. And, I’ll be honest--I wasn’t all that willing to go without. And Kara was really unwilling to go without. So, she met me at her door with another picnic lunch.

"Oh, a picnic," her mother said. "That’s so sweet and romantic." Somehow, we made it out her door and around the corner before we started laughing.

"Yep, sweet and romantic," she said, still laughing. "We’ve got all the ingredients for a sweet romantic picnic. Sandwiches, sodas, a big blanket--and rubbers!" She shot a sideways glance at me. "You did remember the rubbers?"

"Of course," I said. "I think I’ll keep one in my wallet at all times, just in case you get frisky."

She cracked up. "How sweet and romantic. If only my mother knew."

"Don’t even think that," I said.

"Tell me about it," she sighed. "I’m the Perfect Daughter. She’d be beside herself if she knew I’d lost my virginity at 13. Honestly, that’s the only thing that bugs me about this whole thing. And only a little--but it does bug me. I really do love my parents, and they’d be really disappointed in me if they knew."

"Well, I know you’re Catholic," I said.

"That’s not a big huge deal, though. It’s the age. If I were 18, 20, it wouldn’t be an issue, even if I weren’t married. My parents go to church, but they don’t believe a lot of the peripheral stuff."

"Ah. So it’s the age. That’s a knee-jerk reaction, though. It’s just a number. You’re far more mature than most 20-year-olds. I’m not as mature as you are, but I was the one that stopped it when we didn’t have anything--so at least I’m responsible." And, no, I didn’t consider myself mature, even considering my ‘real’ age. I was immature at 42, and I’d regressed with the time trip. It was, however, better than the first time around. I’d been very immature then.

"You’re pretty mature," she argued. "Especially in some ways. The way you treat girls is extremely mature."

I chuckled at that. "Have you forgotten the two years that I followed you around like a lovesick idiot?"

"No," she laughed, "but that’s not what I’m talking about. Kelly and I had a discussion about this. Most guys our age think with their you-know-what. And that makes them treat girls as a, I don’t know, receptacle or something. Plus, lots of guys our age are way too into that macho crap. Like that’ll impress girls. You know, the caveman act."

"Problem is, that does impress a lot of girls," I said. "You’re a rare bird."

"I think you’d be surprised," she said. "I have a prediction to make. When I leave for school in September, you’re going to have your pick of girls to go out with."

"Excuse me?"

"It’s been mentioned to me, Ed. Girls see how you treat me. And they see how a lot of other guys treat them. And they’ve noticed the difference."

"Whatever you say," I laughed.

"Mark my words."

I just grinned at her. By this time, we’d reached the top of the hill. We spread out the blanket and dug into the food, chatting while we ate. When we were done eating, I tackled Kara onto the blanket.

"Animal! Beast! Taking advantage of me like that!" Kara laughed.

"And you love every minute of it," I said.

"Too true," she said. Then she couldn’t say anything else, because she was getting kissed.

We made out for a while. In the middle, I snaked my hand up her shirt. Expecting to encounter a bra, I was surprised when my fingers hit bare skin. She broke the kiss, smiled and me, and said, "Easier access. That’s why I wore a skirt, too." Then she went back to kissing me. Believe me, I wasn’t complaining!

We kept kissing, my hand fondling her boob. Then I broke off the kiss, and scrambled down between her legs. She let out a little squeal as I pulled at her panties. Discarding them, I crawled up between her legs, pushing her skirt up around her waist. She was right--nice and easy access. Plus, if we heard voices coming up the hill, it’d be easier to ‘fix ourselves.’

I dove in and started licking at her labia, spreading her juices around, feeling her labia swell as her arousal built. I dipped my tongue into her opening, and she let out a muffled squeal.

"Damn, I don’t want to yell," she gasped. I knew what she meant--Braddox Hill wasn’t that isolated. "I should’ve saved some food--you know, put something in my mouth to keep me quiet," she giggled. I ran my tongue up and down her pussy again, and she let out another half-gasp half-squeal. That’s when I got a devious idea.

"Kara. You want to play?"

"I thought that’s what we were doing," she giggled.

"Something new. Do you know what a 69 is?"

"No," she said.

I scrambled out from between her legs and lie on my back next to her. "OK, now straddle me. Legs around my head, facing down." She giggled and did just that. "OK," I said from under her skirt, "Now, lean down over me. I’m the six, and you’re the nine--get it?"

"Oh, yeah, I get it!" she said. She certainly did--she was undoing my fly right away. Before I could even get back to work on her pussy, she had my dick out and her mouth around it. I went back to her pussy, starting with the long licks again, and she moaned around my dick.

I’d done 69 before, in the old life, and it was always fun--but, sometimes it was hard to concentrate. Especially for the girl. If you wanted a flat-out blowjob, 69 really wasn’t the way to do it. However, with Kara, my lapping away at her pussy seemed to spur her on. She absolutely devoured me. And, when I got to the point where I was nudging her clit with my tongue, she just flat-out Hoovered me.

It was incredible. I managed to keep my own concentration, working away at her pussy, but she was sucking the daylights out of me. I figured that this wasn’t going to take long, and I was right. Knowing she wasn’t thrilled with the taste the first time she had done this, I managed to hiss "Cumming!" at her right before I did. She ignored me, and kept sucking on my dick, working her mouth up and down on it.

I grunted and exploded into her mouth. She swallowed without a problem, except for a few dribbles. Then she sat up a bit, settling her pussy deeper onto my mouth, and sighed. I’d managed to keep her on the edge the whole time she was blowing me--so now I zeroed in on her clit so I could push her over.

If anyone had happened up the hill just then, they would’ve run into quite a sight. You couldn’t see my head at all--we’d never taken Kara’s skirt off, so it had settled back down around her thighs, obscuring my head. It almost looked like she was sitting on a stool. Except that stool had a body. And that body’s dick was still hanging out of its fly. Oh, and, most girls don’t writhe quite that much if they’re sitting on a stool!

Suddenly, she reared up, jammed her pussy into my face, and came. Luckily, she managed not to howl. But she was panting, and her whole body was shaking, as I nibbled on her clit. Afterwards, she collapsed forward on top of me, which gave me enough clearance to take a couple of much-needed deep breaths!

She climbed off of me and settled her head on my chest. "God," she gasped. "God. This just keeps getting better and better. Where’d you get that 69 thing?"

"I told you--Penthouse Forum."

"I really do need a subscription," she smiled. I started laughing. "What’s so funny?" she asked.

"You," I said. "I always thought of you as some kind of Polly Pureheart. Little did I know you were an animal."

"Me? How about you?" she laughed. "Ed Bovilas, the maladjusted nerd, makes me cum like a banshee. Never would’ve bet on that," she teased with a smirk. "Seriously--it was Don Nixon that got me thinking about all this."

"Huh?" I said.

She smiled. "Not that I would’ve with him. I knew I wouldn’t. But he kept pressing things, and I knew where he wanted to be headed, right? So it made me think about it. Look, I told you he fondled my boobs through my shirt. Well, it didn’t turn me on, because he was clueless, but it came close, you know? I guess I could see where it would turn me on if it were somebody that had a clue. So I thought about it. And I asked myself what I’d do if I found myself turned on. I decided that it depended on the guy--but I guess it made me more open to it." She grinned at me. "Then you came along. God. Do you know what you did to me that first time you grabbed my boob, in the sleeping bag when we were camped out? Hell, I was half tempted to jump you right there. It was such a difference, I guess that made me really start thinking about it. And that’s without getting into how good a kisser you are. So, yeah, I might have been pure and innocent and all that, but I’d started thinking about it. The way you make me feel just pushed me over."

"Ah. Whereas I’d been thinking about it, with you specifically, since sixth grade."

"Pervert."

"You know it."

"Good. Put that thing in me!" she demanded, rolling over onto her back.

I found my wallet and got a rubber out, and put it on. Then I eased myself into her. "Damn, so good," she hissed. I had to agree.

She wrapped her legs around my waist, giving me a perfect angle. I started moving in and out of her, slowly at first. She hooked her ankles behind my ass and almost immediately began thrusting back up at me. Where she picked that up, I have no idea--it was all instinct. I pushed all the way into her--her humping up to meet me--and held for a couple of seconds, grinding myself into her. She squealed at that.

I did that a few more times, then picked up the pace a bit. She wheezed every time I pulled out, and grunted every time I hit bottom. She still had her skirt on, but it was bunched up around her waist, and the ‘thwack’ of our bodies mixed with her grunting and echoed off the trees surrounding us. That, actually, was a wee bit worrisome. If anyone was standing in their backyard in one of the houses at the bottom of the hill, there was a chance we could be heard. Ah, well--the chances you take when you’re 13 and want to get laid!

Kara, luckily, wasn’t too loud. I wasn’t all that worried, just a little. Not enough to distract me, that was for sure! I kept moving in and out of her, grinding a little on the downstroke. "Oh, God, so close," she hissed. I started going faster, and I could see her build up. Her eyes were closed tight, her mouth in an O, and her face flushed. Her hands came up and gripped my shoulders. I still had my shirt on, but I could feel her fingernails dig in to my shoulders.

She kept thrusting up against me, harder and harder, as I plunged into her. After a minute, she stiffened. Her fingernails dug hard into my shoulders, and her ass came right off the ground. She yelped a little, and her eyes opened wide. I felt her pussy clamp down hard on my dick.

I hadn’t been all that close--worrying about the noise must’ve distracted me a wee bit--but watching her cum changed all that. I kept sliding in and out of her, stringing her orgasm out a bit, and then I came into the rubber.

Afterwards, curled up together underneath the blue sky, she sighed. "I was right. This just keeps getting better and better."

I could only agree.

BROOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Springsteen, that is. My first Bruce concert, over 21 years early from the first time.

As I’ve said, I had this show on a bootleg in the old life, so I had heard it. Now that was strange. I was attending a show I’d already heard. Wrap that one around your brain for a bit!

What’s more, the show was a bit of an oddity. It was the Darkness tour, supporting the Darkness On The Edge Of Town album. There was only one problem--the album wasn’t out yet. Y’see, there was a delay. At the last minute, Bruce decided to remix the track The Promised Land, pushing the album release date back. However, the beginning of the tour was already booked, so the tour started on time--May 20th or something like that. This was one of the first dates on the tour. The album wouldn’t be out for another week.

The conundrum was this--as far as Bruce was concerned, this was the Darkness tour. So he was playing songs from Darkness. Which hadn’t been released yet.

When someone puts on as good a show as Bruce Springsteen does, this is not a big deal. Bruce was notorious for pulling songs out of his ass, and it didn’t matter. Few performers could get away with playing a show containing seven or eight songs from an album that wasn’t out yet--but Bruce could. That wasn’t the problem.

The problem was--these were new songs, right? Nobody was supposed to know them. In fact, there were murmurs going around the hall: "This must be stuff from the new album." Some people, of course, had seen the first two shows of the stand and were into their third hearing of some of these songs. But I wasn’t.

The point is, I wasn’t supposed to know any of these songs--but of course I did. And I had to act like I didn’t know any of them. Not for Kara--she wasn’t a big enough Springsteen fan yet to know the difference--but cousin Sandy sure would!

So, I didn’t know these songs. I couldn’t know these songs. I had to pretend I didn’t know these songs. Which meant I COULDN’T SING ALONG!!! Man, it sucked! Do you know how hard it is for me to not sing along at a show when I know the words? Especially at a show like Bruce, which is riotous. And he opened with "Badlands", the first cut off of Darkness and one of my all-time favorites. When he got to the "For the ones who had a notion, a notion deep inside, it ain’t no sin to be glad you’re alive" verse, I think I was biting my damn tongue to keep from singing along. And "Prove It All Night." I couldn’t sing along to "Prove It All Night"? I’d spent 20 years singing along to that song, in the car with the radio blasting and the windows rolled down, bellowing away at the top of my lungs! And here he was playing it live and I couldn’t sing along. Ah, me.

Luckily, that was the only downside to the whole thing. What an UNBELIEVABLE show. It was stupendous. And he played enough of the old stuff that I could get away with singing along to. "Born To Run," for instance. Of course, I made sure I sang the "Strap your hands cross my engines" line right at Kara.

He played "Rosalita" and "Thunder Road" and "Spirit In The Night" and a few other things I could sing along to. Kara was amused. I can sing, and she obviously knows it--having heard it in English class--so she told me she wasn’t grinning at my singing. She was grinning at how into it I was. But, as the show went on, she got into it as well--quite a lot. She started the show as a mild Bruce fan who thought it would be a cool show--and left with an expression on her face like she had just seen the second coming!

So, I got to see Bruce 21 years earlier than I did the first time around. I got to see him with Kara. I got to actually hear him play "The Promise", a legendary unreleased track that he played live sometimes (it was finally released in 1998). And I got to listen to Kara babble about how cool it was when she snuggled up next to me in the back seat of Sandy’s car on the ride home.

Things were obviously going too good.

I had to relive one of my least favorite days today. Another beating. This one was extra-special, though. The first time around, I was actually holding my own in the fight. This time around, I was more than holding my own. And the guy who was beating on me did the same thing--grabbed my head and slammed it into a brick wall.

As an adult in the old life, people thought I was exaggerating some of this shit. I’d gotten rid of most of it this time--but obviously not all of it.

It started with a kid named Danny Sullivan, another kid I’d known since first grade. He was one of the ones that liked to taunt me with that ‘fag’ bullshit.

Of course, the irony is, Danny was gay. I found that out in adulthood, when, searching for something, I found a website of his (yes, I’m sure it was him--he had a picture there from when he was a kid. I recognized him and his house). But he spent most of eighth grade calling me fag. Usually I ignored him--you know, consider the source and all that.

But this day I was just irritated, so when he started in on me as I was walking down the hall, I said, "Hey, Danny, fuck you."

Danny wasn’t going to approach me himself--Danny was a runt, one of the few kids in school that, even the first time around, I would have been able to take. This time, with all the weightlifting and running I did, I would’ve pulverized him.

Somehow, Danny had acquired some ‘friends’. You know, protection, muscle. I don’t know how he managed that. I wonder what those brutes would’ve said if they’d realized that he was the one that was gay and was probably checking them out behind their back. Anyhow, after I told Danny to fuck off, one of the bozos grabbed me.

Even though I got sucker-punched, I was still holding my own. In fact, I was winning. All that exercising really was paying off. But the bozo pre-empted it by slamming my head against the wall.

I’ll admit it--I’m a crier. I cry at sappy movies, for goodness’ sake, even in adulthood in the old life. When this incident happened the first time, I bawled like a baby. This time, I willfully commanded myself not to cry. I just stood there, holding my head. "Jesus fucking Christ, I’m bleeding, you asshole!" I spat at the bully. He was looking smug, until he heard the mutterings from the crowd. "Cheap shot," and "What an asshole," were some of the things I heard. Jesus Christ, I had allies? How the hell did that happen?

Stan had happened about in the middle of all this, and now he pushed himself through the crowd. "You need to get to the nurse, pal," he told me.

"No argument there."

We went to the nurse. I got stitches; seven of them. I was checked for a concussion which I luckily didn’t have. Of course, afterwards, I had to go down to Mr. Legerre’s office again. Fun, fun, fun. He blustered and sputtered, and I ignored him.

When this happened before, I just went home and nursed my wounds--happy in the fact that I only had two weeks left in this hellhole before I got out and went to the Prep. Well, I’d blown that decision this time around. I thought I had ended this crap. Maybe I should have gone to the Prep. But, this time I wasn’t just going to go home and lick my wounds, either.

As I was reminded when, waiting for the bus, here came Kara. "God, what happened?" she said--she’d obviously heard.

I told her. "Oh, baby, are you OK?" she asked in real sympathy. I assured her that I was fine. I got on the bus, and Kara (and Kelly too) made all kinds of cooing sympathetic noises and bucked me up. Even Danica said, "What an asshole. You should pop Danny Sullivan one, make him call his goons off."

"Don’t worry, I’m going to do something. I don’t know what, yet, but this shit has to stop," I said. All three girls nodded in agreement. "But, for now, I’m putting it out of my mind. I don’t want to spoil somebody’s birthday," I said--and leaned over and kissed Kara on the cheek. She grinned happily. Yup, it was her birthday; she was 14 today.

"So, how’s it feel to be dating an older woman?" Kelly asked me, grinning.

"Wonderful," I said with this sickeningly dreamy look on my face, making them all laugh. "She’s taught me so much."

"Are you sure you don’t have a concussion?" Kara laughed.

I got off the bus at Kara’s stop. Other people got off at that stop, too: the Cullinane twins, Sara, Steve McCauley, Denise Bucher, Bob Golan. A lot of Kara’s crowd. Sara had begun to accept Kara and me together, partially because she, too, had figured out what a jerk Don Nixon was. Bob and Denise were still wary, but at least they didn’t give me shit. We chatted for a while, then headed to Kara’s house.

Kara’s parents had invited me over for dinner and birthday cake. Afterwards, there was a dance at school, the last one of the year. Mrs. Pocharsky would drive us there, and my mom was going to pick us up. We got to Kara’s house, and I called my mom and told her about the head injury. I assured her I was OK.

With no homework to worry about--it was Friday--Kara and I watched TV, cuddling on the couch. There wasn’t much else going on, not with her mother due home any minute and her brother and sister there! In fact, her sister--who was like 9--caught us kissing and made a big deal about going "Yuck! Yuck!"

Kara just grinned at her. "Trust me, Angela, you won’t be saying yuck in five years or so."

Her brother and sister left us alone after a while, and, well, we got a bit carried away. Not too bad--no clothing was removed--but when her mother came into the house, she was in my lap and we were kissing. I don’t even think we heard the door open. We did hear the rather amused throat-clearing. Kara looked up and dove off of my lap! "Uh, hi, Mom!" she said, rather sheepishly.

"Hello, Kara. Hi, Ed. Don’t let me interrupt," she said with thinly veiled amusement.

"Uh, well...." Kara stuttered.

"Oh, relax," Mrs. Pocharsky said. "You two have been going out for four months. If you weren’t kissing, I’d be worried about you." Good thing she didn’t know what else we were doing! She was walking behind me to hang up her coat, when she saw the bandage. "Ed, what happened to your head?" she asked. I explained.

She sat down across from us and sighed. "Ed, how do you get into these messes?"

"That’s what I’d like to know," Kara said, exasperated. "I just don’t get it! He’s the sweetest guy in school!"

"And that’s part of the problem, right there," Mrs. Pocharsky said. "Ed probably took that as a compliment. Most boys your age wouldn’t. ‘Sweet’ is not a word one usually uses in describing a thirteen-year-old boy. Ed’s the least manliness-obsessed boy his age I’ve ever met. It’s all about proving masculinity. Ed’s not like that." She was right. This isn’t something that I figured out the first time around until much later in life, mind you, but she was right. I was very un-macho, and always had been. I hated those games. "And it’s going to cause you problems for some time to come," Mrs. Pocharsky continued, looking right at me. "But, do me a favor, Ed. Don’t change. Most guys realize the macho act doesn’t work, but not until much later in life. Some guys never realize it. You’ve got a head start."

"I know. Kara and I have talked about that, actually--and I got lucky. Because, right now, with a lot of girls, it does work."

"Those girls haven’t been with Don Nixon," Kara spat disgustedly. "That woke me up."

"I know it did," Mrs. Pocharsky said. "And I’m glad of it."

"Me, too," I said to chuckles. "Anyhow, don’t worry, Mrs. Pocharsky--I have no intention of changing. Hey, I’ve been through this for a while now, and it’s better this year. I’ve done enough to counter a lot of it, and I’m not done with the jerk that got me today, believe me. But, really, it doesn’t matter. How many of those macho-obsessed jerks are going to that dance tonight alone?"

"Good point," Kara laughed.

Supper was fine, and we all sang Happy Birthday and ate cake. Then we did presents. I got her a copy of The Beatles’ Red Album, which she had asked for. I also got her an outfit. I had secretly quizzed Mrs. Pocharsky on Kara’s favorite stores to shop in, and picked out a skirt-and-sweater set that I thought was cute. Kara obviously agreed, as she squealed in delight as she opened it. "Wow! This is so awesome!" she enthused. "I had all planned out what I was going to wear to this dance tonight, but I just changed my mind!" She ran upstairs to change. I had to pat myself on the back, it looked adorable on her. Even her mom agreed.

When we got to the dance, and everyone commented on her outfit, she took great pleasure in telling all that I was the one that got it for her. Of course, this got me razzed. "Oh, yeah, Bovilas, you’re real good at buying girls’ clothes," Joe Vizcano said with a smirk.

"It made her happy. That’s all I really care about," I shrugged.

"Besides which," Kara said, "did you happen to notice that the adorable outfit also happens to have a skirt? So the guy who bought that outfit can look at my legs all night long? I don’t date a dummy!" Everyone, even Joe, cracked up at that one.

It was fun. We had a good time. But, I have to say, I think everyone figured out that our relationship was at least somewhat physical. During the slow dances, we were plastered to one another. Nobody said anything, but we got some looks. Not that we minded!

Kara and I talked about it. We determined that I had to do something, or this was going to keep happening.

I was surprised, actually, that Kara agreed. Violence was not her thing at all. I thought she’d tell me to turn the other cheek, but she didn’t. "I hate to see you go through this," she said. "I think you have to make a stand, or it’s going to keep happening. Besides which, I worry about next year."

"How come?"

"Things have gotten better for you this year, and I know a lot of it is your running and weightlifting and your better attitude. But some of it, I believe, is also me. You hear what they call you--’fag’ and all that. Well, that’s kind of a stupid thing to call a guy with a girlfriend, isn’t it? I think having a girlfriend shields you from some things. And, next year, when I’m not here....."

"Good point," I agreed.

So, on this day, I got off the bus in the morning and went to find the asshole that had slammed my head against the wall. Kara--and Kelly--came to root me on. And some of the guys--Stan, Patrick, Steve McCauley--even volunteered to back me up, just to make sure none of the asshole’s friends got into the act.

One thing that was different about me as compared to the first time around--I wasn’t as nice. I was way too nice the first time around. Not this time. Fight fire with fire. This guy was an asshole, so, I wasn’t fighting this fight by Marquis of Queensbury rules. I went up to him, tapped him on the shoulder--and swung. Yeah, it was a sucker punch. I didn’t give a fuck. That’s what he had done to me--before he slammed my head against the wall. Right from the beginning, he was a cheap-shot artist. Fight fire with fire.

Anyhow, he turned and I swung, and nailed him right in the nose. And I kept swinging. One of his buddies did make a move to get involved, and Steve stepped in front of him. "Uh, uh, uh--we’ll have none of that." I just kept swinging.

The asshole went down in a heap, blood squirting from his nose. "You lay a hand on me again, and you’ll get worse than that," I told him. Then I walked over to Danny Sullivan, who was watching from a distance like the weasel he was. I grabbed him around the collar. "You listen to me, you little shit. The next time you sic one of your goon buddies on me, I’ll beat the living daylights out of you. It won’t be the goon next time--it’ll be you. You understand me?"

"Yes," he sniffled.

"Good."

I walked away with Kara at my side. It felt very good. And I hoped this was the end of it.

This was a replay of a very interesting day. This was the day I met Annabelle.

Belle--everyone called her that--was actually my second cousin. She lived in California. She came out for a visit with her Mom, who was my mother’s first cousin and her best friend growing up. They had flown in and landed on the first, which was a Saturday. This day, the second, was the day I met her. They were staying with my Grandmother. Gram had a cookout as an early fourth-of-July thing.

So, we went over, and, while Gram and my Mom were barbecuing, I was advised to "take Belle for a walk. Take her down to the beach, show her around." So, I did.

Belle was gorgeous. She was a year younger than me, which made her 12, but she didn’t look 12--she looked 16. She was built. She was also a blue-eyed blonde with a gorgeous face. She was a little chunky, but, hey--I liked chunky. It just made her more curvy. One look at her and you wanted to start singing Beach Boys songs: "I wish they all could be California Girls...."

The first time I lived this, the attraction was instantaneous--and mutual. We got down to the beach, chatting, and she asked me if I ever kissed a girl. I said no. She corrected that in a hurry. It was wonderful. Later that week, it even ended up as a brief make-out session one day when I rode my bike over there just to see her.

She came back the next summer, but had a boyfriend back in California so wanted nothing to do with me as anything other than friends. Ah, well. I didn’t see her again until adulthood. I always remembered her very fondly, though.

This time we walked down the beach again. And we were talking, and, as had happened the first time, the attraction was instantaneous.

Of course, this time, there was a complication. So, when she asked me that question--if I’d ever kissed a girl--the answer was different.

"Yes," I said--with a big grin. "Sure have. I have a girlfriend. Her name is Kara. You’ll meet her, she’ll be at Gram’s in about an hour."

Belle’s face fell--but, to her credit, only a bit. I’m sure she wanted to act on the attraction--but, hell, it wasn’t that big of a deal. She was only here for a week, and we both knew it. So, she decided to tease instead. "So, you’ve kissed her, huh? How much else have you done?"

"Uh-uh. I don’t talk about that," I told her.

"You don’t? Are you sure you’re a guy?" she laughed.

We dropped that subject, and just chatted about this and that, walking around the park at the beach. She really was as delightful as I had remembered. I’ll admit, I had a twinge--especially knowing that Kara and I had a relationship that was coming to an end in two months. But it hadn’t come to an end yet, and I’m just too honorable.

We got back to Gram’s just in time for Kara’s arrival. Her mom dropped her off. And she was immediately an absolute sweetheart to Belle.

We ended up in a corner of Gram’s yard, happily chatting. I forget exactly what we were talking about to lead into it, but it came up. "I had asked him if he’d ever kissed a girl, that’s when he mentioned you," Belle said to Kara.

"Oh, yeah. Yes, he’s kissed a girl," she giggled. "And a few other things."

"Yeah, he wouldn’t tell me what!" Belle giggled.

Kara just smiled enigmatically. Belle looked at her in consternation, then had to laugh. "I think I can probably connect the dots," Belle said.

"Most likely," Kara grinned.

On the day of the fourth, there was another cookout/pool party. This time, it was over Sara’s. As I’d said, Sara had started to accept me. I got a nice compliment from her when I took my shirt off to head into the pool.

She whistled. "My God, Eddie! Kara had told me that you’d started to lift weights, but jeez! You look fine!"

"Thanks, Sara," I laughed.

Anyhow, all of Kara’s gang was there. I got to watch Kara in a nice, slinky bathing suit. It was one-piece, not a bikini or anything, but she looked fantastic in it. She walked past me at one point and I said, "Slobber slobber drool slobber." That got me a big grin.

As I said, Sara’s--and Kara’s--gang was there, but there were a few additions. After souring on Don Nixon, Sara had started eating lunch with me and Kara’s regular lunch buddies. So, Sara invited some of them. She invited Stan, and Michelle Pepper. And, much to my delight, she invited Beth.

Who almost didn’t come. I had to talk her into it. Beth really could be quite shy, and her current medical situation didn’t make her more outgoing. But I talked her into it--as did her best girlfriend Kerry, who was also invited. I was glad she came, and she seemed to be having a good time.

Everyone there knew about Beth’s condition. Which was a good thing, because it came up.

After swimming, and after eating, all of us were gathered in a circle in a corner of the yard. The adults were elsewhere--which was a good thing, considering how the conversation went.

Somehow, the conversation turned to sex before marriage. "I’m waiting," Sara said. "I don’t believe in sex before marriage."

"All girls say that," Bob Golan pointed out, "and a lot of them change their mind."

"I won’t," Sara maintained.

"I think it’s easier to say if you don’t have a boyfriend," Kelly pointed out. "You know, what if you fall in love? That’s harder, I think. I’m not making any hard and fast rules about it."

"That’s a point," Sara conceded, "but I’m also Catholic."

"I think if every Catholic who didn’t wait was kicked out of the church, there would be a whole lot of empty pews on Sunday," Patrick said, to laughter. "And, hey, what are we? 14? 13, some of us? It’s easy to say at this age. Talk to me when I’m 16 or 17--especially if, as Kelly said, I have a serious girlfriend."

That’s when Beth said something. "Try staring death in the face, and still sticking to it. Of course, like Kelly said, not having a boyfriend makes it easier. If I did, I might feel differently. But I still think it’s important to wait for marriage, even though the odds are very small I’ll live long enough to get married." Everyone was staring at her. She grinned. "Hey, don’t let me bring the conversation down. Just making a philosophical point is all."

"You can be philosophical about that?" Danica asked her.

She shrugged. "I think you have to be. I have discussed this some with my buddy over here," she said, poking me in the ribs. "Not that we agree on anything, but sometimes it’s good to talk it out. Hey, this is what it is--I have to deal with it."

Everybody just kind of thought about that for a minute, then Sara changed the subject back to the original. I didn’t know it, but a bombshell was coming. "OK, I’ll admit it. If I was in Beth’s situation, it might be harder to wait. That’s tough. But, I still plan on waiting," Sara said. She looked at Kara. "Kara, we haven’t heard from you yet. Do you plan on waiting until marriage?"

Kara didn’t waste any time dropping the bomb. "It’s a little late for that," she said with a sly grin. Oh, GOD, I thought to myself--Kara, what did you just do?

It took a minute for people to realize what she had just said--except for Beth and Kelly, who knew. Danica was the first to kind of realize it. "What did you just say?" she asked.

"I said, it’s too late for me to wait until marriage. I lost my virginity in May."

"You WHAT?" Sara blurted out.

Stan was the first to realize that, if Kara had lost her virginity, to whom she had to have lost it. "Ed Bovilas, you sly devil you!" he said with a huge grin.

That’s when it dawned on everyone else. "You. Had sex. With Ed." Bob Golan said in a tone of complete disbelief.

"I sure did," Kara said, beaming from ear to ear. "Lots of times. We haven’t just done it the once, believe me!"

"You are kidding!" Sara blurted.

"Why would I kid about something like this?" Kara said.

"I don’t believe it!" Bob said. "Are you the same girl that didn’t want Don Nixon to even touch you?"

"Don wanted to push things. Eddie let me go at my own pace," Kara informed him. "It made all the difference. Look, what you guys don’t get is this shit is scary for girls. I told Eddie that he didn’t scare me, and that’s why I wanted him to be my first."

All of a sudden, Joe Vizcano burst out laughing. "You know, I don’t believe this. Who would’ve guessed that Ed Bovilas would’ve been the first of us guys to have sex?"

"Not I," I admitted with a laugh.

"So, this happened in May and we’re just finding out about it now?" Danica said.

"Well, I told Kelly," Kara said, "but she’s kept her mouth shut."

"Hell, Ed didn’t even tell me," Stan said.

"I only told one person," I said, and pointed to Beth.

"He tells me everything," Beth smiled.

"So, why are you telling everyone now?" Danica said, looking at me.

"Hey, don’t look at me!" I said. "I didn’t start this! I wouldn’t have said a word to anyone besides Beth."

"Yep, I take all the blame for this one," Kara laughed. "I just didn’t feel like keeping it a secret any more." She sighed. "It can be a pain. Of course, I can’t let my parents know. And, I guess, when I was in school, I didn’t want it spread around. But I’m not going back to school there and you all are friends, so..."

"So, how was it?" Danica asked, very softly.

"Wonderful," Kara said in a very dreamy voice. "Marvelous. Couldn’t have asked for better. Ed’s very talented."

Beth looked over at me while Kara was in the middle of that and burst out laughing. "Nice color that is you’re blushing, pal," she teased.

"Yeah, well...." I stammered.

"Well, it’s true," Kara proclaimed. "I picked the right guy for my first time, and that’s a fact."

"Him?" Joe Vizcano said dismissively.

"Yes, him," Kara replied. "He’s wonderful. Any girl would be lucky to have him."

"You’re pouring it on pretty thick, sweetheart," I said, to laughter.

"Just telling it how it is," she said, smirking at me.

After that, the conversation turned to other things. We had a good time.

I walked Kara home afterwards. As we left Sara’s house, she turned to me and said, "You’re welcome."

"Thank you. What am I thanking you for?"

"For telling."

"For embarrassing me?" I laughed.

"Aw, you were embarrassed?"

"A little. I didn’t expect to be discussing my sex life, honestly."

"Ah. Well, you should still be happy. Because what I said is going to get around when you go back to school."

"This is a good thing?" I asked her.

"It sure is." She grabbed my arm and leaned into me, a big grin on her face. "Ed, honey, I just turned you into the school stud. When I leave for Andrews, you’re going to be fighting them off!"

"Ah," I said. "I’m not sure I care."

"You don’t now," she said softly, "which is very sweet of you. But, after I leave, you will. You’re not going to want to be alone."

"We’ll see," I said, though I suspected she was right. I just didn’t want to think about it. We still had almost two months together. I just wanted to enjoy them--then I’d worry about what came after.