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Brielle, The Wood Shed

I was young. I don’t know how young, but we were living at South Leo Street in Seattle so I couldn’t have been older than 8. I was inside probably watching Square-One when my sister came in with a dare for me. She wouldn’t say what, but she persisted. I reluctantly followed her outside and around the side of the house where one of the neighborhood kids was waiting for me inside the woodshed. He was a light skinned little brother with an orange-ish Afro. I remember him having an orange-ish hue all over, actually. He was lanky with big brown eyes and crooked teeth. Not exactly the cutest boy on the block.

She pulled me up to him, plopped herself down on a garbage can and ordered us to kiss. I didn’t want to at all, I don’t think he did either, but Elyse egged us on. He leaned in, I leaned in, we kissed. A split second wet peck, yuck. But that wasn’t all. The moment our lips touched were we were ambushed from all sides. Out from behind the piles of wood, the stacked tin garbage cans, from the bushes and even the roof came the entire youth population of Beacon Hill. pouring out from every crook and cranny with wild enthusiasm. In an uproar they screamed, laughed and pointed their fingers at me and the poor little orange one as we ran away as fast as we could.

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