I sit at the edge of the bluff and wonder what the jagged edges of the rock will do to my 12-year-old body should I not reach the water. Willie, who doesn’t wonder about this at all, pushes past me in cut-off jeans and untied Kangaroos and darts down the path and over the precipice. His airborne screams mix with theirs until momentarily muted by the splash, only to resume in laughter. I walk down the path instead and ease myself slowly into the lake.
Donnie tells me to kiss her and stop being so afraid. Recess will end in just a few moments and Gina doesn’t argue with his assurances that she does, in fact, want me to deliver her first kiss. Chris jerks the four-square ball from underneath my arm and pushes me towards her. “Hurry up and do it!” Tiffany sighs and says, “He’s not gonna do it. Why did he even ask you to go with him? I told you.”
I stare at a telephone number, tracing the ink with my thumb. My conscience, assuming the tiny voices of my long ago, says, “Just call her, already. Be the caveman. Start swinging your club.” All the voices sound so young. Every impulsive thing I’ve ever done has been at the urging of those petulant children lodged deep within my memories.
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