My First Misdemeanor.

Welcome back friends, new and old.

I'm going to take it slow with this first tale. A tale of many firsts for a young me, all of fourteen years old. I'd like to set the mood for you, get a nice ambiance going. Picture if you will, I'm in Nevada, where it's hot and windy and a typical day in junior high. Kids are pushing, hurrying, slamming lockers. I'm lost and shy and the new kid, hating life. I hang in there and eventually I make friends and I meet a boy. A Mexican boy with green eyes who smelled of three flowers hair gel. I think he used a bottle a day, his hair so shiny and black, and slicked back. I'm smitten. I blush. I'm nervous, all the time. We date for a while, we hold hands, we get closer than I've ever gotten with a boy before. (By closer I mean in terms of actual distance. I had never really stood next to a boy before.) I think things at night that I shouldn't at my young, fourteen years of age. This is my first real boyfriend. He wore: baggy jeans, black Nike Cortez', a wife beater under a blue flannel shirt and a belt that hung down as long as his pant leg. He was very dangerous and mysterious and I was hooked. This boy, this green eyed Mexican, is the first in a long line of "bad boys." I will spare you the details of our first kiss, though magical, our first intimate moment, though awkward and shameful. I will simply say that it is not the greatest of ideas to sneak out of your parents house, while they are at work, go to a much older persons house (the kind of older person who still hangs out at the high school, though he's long since graduated) as this is where good intentions go bad. This is where your boyfriend sneaks whiskey into your beer, thinking you're too dumb to smell it. This is the kind of house where your boyfriend takes you into the back bedroom of a single wide trailer and explains that he doesn't need a condom. This house is where I chose to "lose it" while listening to a CD skip. This CD happens to be in the same back bedroom that I am "loosing it" in so of course this much older person has to interrupt to save his CD from being damaged. This is also the house I am at when my brother decides to call my mom at work to report my disappearance.

Side note:

Now let me explain that I wasn't ready to be doing the thing that I was doing. I was encouraged by some very slutty friends to go through with this "loosing it" because "it's the best thing ever!" and "boys will like you more."

Once finished, I realized that neither of these things are true, that the first time is painful and awkward and I felt embarrased that someone had seen me naked. I should have waited. The next school day I was so embarrased that I didn't talk to him. I didn't want to look at him, but ALL he wanted to do was look at me. I was changed, we were changed, life had changed. Later that winter, life would once again change. My green eyed Mexican, my first real boyfriend, my first kiss, my first everything would slip away. And by slip away I of course mean he robbed a grocery store with some friends, got caught because it was winter and when you walk in snow it leaves foot prints, and was swept away to the juvenile detention center. This became his, and he became my, first misdemeanor.

ps. A red flag I should have heeded was when his friend, himself, and I were hanging out on my porch one night and his friend disappeared from sight. The next thing I know his friend is stealing the license plate off of my neighbors car. The two of them buried the license plate in the alley behind my house. Let's just that my neighbors weren't too happy.