Crush

Justin Ridge. I will forever and ever remember that name. He is now woven into the story of my life. I’m not sure if I’m a part of his. One day if I have kids and a husband they will ask who was the first boy I was with and I’ll have to say Justin. If anything he will serve as a warning. Of what though? Maybe to be careful what you wish for. 

Things started between us in Typing class. Justin’s a Senior, me a Sophomore. I had noticed him last year when we were in Gym together but why would he or anyone have noticed me? I barely had breasts back then and besides Gym is too huge like a couple hundred kids. I prayed about him. Well I prayed over the Summer to have an older boy take away my virginity. It didn’t have to be him exactly but I kept his face in my head like a rosary I clutched during these prayers. My mom taught me that in order to make prayers a reality that I should focus on an image of what I want to come true. I didn’t want to focus on some actor from a TV show. I needed someone that might be in my world, so I chose Justin. He seemed perfect. Quiet, not as rough as the other boys. When I saw him show up in Typing on the first day of class this year I couldn’t swallow. Clearly it was fate. 

I need to describe Justin like I remember him before everything happened. My future kids or someone will want to know what made me want him as my first. I liked his skinniness above all. I thought his boney frame indicated gentleness. I wanted to trace my fingers along his bare barely there chest, and feel the grooves of his ribs against my doughy body. I never ever got to see him with his shirt off, though, did I? Maybe it’s just as well. They say Adam and Eve became embarrassed by their nudity. Was he embarrassed to be naked and exposed along with me? Maybe his shirt was a layer he wanted to keep between us. Or maybe keeping it on was just his way of keeping things quick. I don’t know. One other physical thing I’ll remember from before we were together was his hair. My first guy had amazing hair. It’s wavy, like Superman, a teenage Clark Kent. It made me think Justin was destined to be in movies or become a doctor or catalogue model. Now I see his hair as another thick protection, a type of helmet or armor and something that distracted me from who he really is. 

Flirting is a lot harder than people think, at least in high school. I sat behind Justin in Typing and would talk almost as if I was talking aloud to myself hoping he’d bite. I’d bring up short matter of fact stuff about assignments, the teacher’s clothes, a fire drill that day, anything at all, and eventually he engaged. He even said hi to me once toward the end of the semester, a head nod and a “what’s up?” when he came into class. With the semester ending I had to make a move. My mom says girls don’t chase boys but was she eighty pounds overweight at my age? I gave him my number on a scrap of paper a couple days before break and said to call me if he wanted. He said “yeah cool.” Later that day after school I saw him laughing with his friends. I wanted to say hi but knew that would be the end of anything between us so I acted like he wasn't there. I heard them talk about me and I definitely heard the word “fat” but I assumed that was just them, not Justin. I never thought I’d hear from him but he texted that night. 

Whats up its Justin

I tried to spark something but he was even less open than in class. Some people aren’t texters I assumed.

I can get some weed we can smoke tomorrow

That was his date proposal. I accepted. Happily. I thought that made as good a sense as any for a date. He said not to meet right after school that he had to do some things. So we met an hour later at the park. He was late and wasn't alone. He had two friends with him. I wanted to run. Not metaphorically but actually run. I was sitting on a swing and my palms started to sweat. I should have left. His friends acted nice at first, although none of them ever made eye contact with me. We bounced along like we all knew each other for a long time and what we were going to do, whatever it was, was already decided. We went to Troy, I think that’s what he said his name was, or T, as Justin called him, to Troy’s place. We smoked the weed outside while walking there cause Troy didn’t want his place to smell funky, which seemed considerate. I had never smoked before but I felt dizzy. I figured when we got to Troy’s that Justin and I would go off into a bedroom but I was never given that dignity. The other boy, Paul, put on music from his phone. They told me to dance. I wouldn’t. I sat on the couch and nodded my head instead. I felt scared but also for like a really short minute felt cool. Justin and Troy shared a soda and sat on either side of me. They told me to lift up my arms and then I let them take off my top. Justin said I had a nice body. And that I looked cute. The others laughed. Troy agreed, saying in a weird voice, “very very nice,” kind of like he was an old British man inspecting something in a museum. Paul kept saying he wanted to go to the bedroom. I guess this was a small apartment and there was only one bedroom for Troy’s parents but Troy wouldn’t let us leave the living room. He kept saying “it has to be here.” 

Justin led me through the steps, like teaching someone to walk. He had me lie on my back on the couch. He pulled off my pants. He told Troy and Paul to leave us alone and they left for a few minutes. I tried to kiss him but he wouldn’t let me. I told Justin it was my first time and he said to relax. He put his hand over my mouth. He didn’t use a condom. I bit on his finger from the pain and I cried. Then the other boys came in and used me. Someone put a hand over my eyes. Maybe that part was the best part not being able to see them and match their laughing with their faces. Someone pinched my rolls of fat and there was a burst of laughter and then the sound of high fives. 

Afterward Justin walked me back to the park in silence. I could feel tears in my eyes, mainly because he wouldn’t look at me. I’m pretty sure a tear came down my cheek but I quickly wiped it cause I didn’t want him to see me cry. We got to the swingset where we had met and he just veered away, like a car making a turn. He didn’t say goodbye. That was my first time. He was my crush.