"Want me to tell you?"
"I want you to find your own hiding place."
"They start by kissing," he said. "Ever kissed anyone?"
In the narrow rays of light that shot through the gaps in the sides of the
shed, I could see the rings of dirt around his skinny neck. "Of course I
have. Lots of times."
"Who?"
"My dad."
"Your dad doesn't count. Someone not in your family. And with your
eyes closed. It doesn't count unless your eyes are closed."
I told Billy that was about the dumbest thing I'd ever heard. If your eyes
were closed, you couldn't see who you were kissing.
Billy said there was an awful lot about men and women I didn't know. He
said some men stuck knives into women while they were kissing them,
especially if the women were being mean and didn't want to be kissed.
But he told me he'd never do that to me. He put his face up next to mine.
"Close your eyes," he said.
"No way," I said.
Billy smushed his face against mine, then grabbed my hair and made my
head bend sideways and stuck his tongue in my mouth. It was slimy and
disgusting, but when I tried to pull away, he pushed in toward me. The
more I pulled, the more he pushed, until he was on top of me and I felt
his fingers tugging at my shorts. His other hand was unbuttoning his own
pants. To stop him, I put my hand down there, and when I touched it, I