GENRE: YA Historical Fiction
Lead-in: Basketball court; North Carolina; August, 1970's. It's the night before 15 year-old Beryl goes back home to Boston. Perry is a 16 year-old boy she's known most of her life and sees each summer. Maureen is her best friend in Boston.
Perry isn’t my type. He’s more like a brother. Or am I just nervous? I don’t know what my type is. If I’m not attracted to him, there must be some reason. He’s tall, good-looking, super sweet and eyelashes that last a mile. He doesn’t smell. So what’s my problem? I don’t know any black and white couples. Is that it? Sweat drips down the back of my knees. I try to scoot back an inch.
“Beryl?” he asks and rolls back toward me. He fixes his dark brown eyes on mine. The tree frogs are starting their evening chirping. The sky is almost dark. Behind his head I see that a few stars have popped up in the sky. He lets go of the basketball and leans in and kisses me softly. His lips are dry and taste salty.
“Do you want to go…somewhere?” He licks his lips.
I wipe the backs of my knees and dry my hands on my shorts. My first kiss that wasn’t during Spin the Bottle--wasn’t I supposed to feel something? Could I learn to like him? Maureen’s older sister once asked what I thought about being a nun. Maybe she could see something I didn’t.
Perry reaches for my hand. The veins snake between the muscles in his arms. But instead of wanting those arms wrapped around me, I think how jealous I am that he gets to have those muscles for basketball. I shake my head. What’s wrong with me?
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” I remind him.