All through that hot July we were like two peas in a pod.
I'd only get antsy when she'd go on about boys.
"Their lips," she whispered, "Are as soft as a baby's." Like that was something as mighty as Moses parting the sea.
She kissed me once. I'd have to take her opinion about boys and their lips and stuff, pretty much on faith. But I seriously doubted that anyone's lips could hold a candle to hers.
One morning, I woke up sweaty and shaky. What I had dreamt had scared the bejesus out of me.
And Bobby Joe—that's nerdy boy who had sat next to me in homeroom last year—was in it. We were sitting in the schoolyard on the swings. He was going on about something he'd done yesterday with his dad. He was going on and on, like he would never quit. So, I kissed him.
And that's when I woke up.
"Bobby's cute," Jolene said when I told her—as if kissing a boy, even a cute one like Boddy, was the most natural thing in the world. Then she started talking about something else and told me I'd look way prettier if I let my hair grow out some.
After that I had lots of dreams about Bobby. But they didn't seem to bother me as much as they would hot and bother me.
YOU ARE READING
Io
Short StoryI said, "Gee mom, give me a break. You've got it easy." "Easy?" she says, cocking one well plucked eyebrow. "Well, yeah. All you have to do is look pretty." Then she popped THE QUESTION. "So, you'd like it easy too, I suppose?" I'm Io. And that is...
