Jenny Was a Friend of Mine

Jenny.
The name carries the scent of tropical fruit. Coconuts. The beach. Popcorn.

Jenny.
The name carries the taste of cotton candy, strawberries, peanut butter and jelly, and watermelon.

Jenny.
The name carries the sound of laughter, waves crashing, and giggly whispers.

Jenny.
The name carries the feeling of cool water spraying from a sprinkler, soft lotioned hands, ticklefights, and hugs.

Jenny.
Her name carries the sight of an angelic face, summer, the beach, and the theme park right beside the beach.

Jenny and I had been best friends since third grade. She was new at school, and I was fascinated by her sparkly purple nail polish, 64-pack of Crayola crayons, Lisa Frank folders, and Hey Arnold lunchbox. My eyes couldn't help but stare helplessly while she ate alone at the end of our assigned table.

Some bit of courage emerged from my legs. I stood, Junie B. Jones book in hand, and carried my lunchbox to her end of the table.

"Hi,"I murmured.

"Hi. I'm Jenny," she said sweetly.

"I'm Taylor. What did you bring?"

She turned her lunchbox to face me. "Peanut butter and jelly, carrot sticks, Ritz crackers, and chocolate milk. What about you?"

"Peanut butter and jelly, celery, saltine crackers, and Capri Sun.." I replied cautiously.

"I'll trade your crackers for mine," she offered.

She handed me her Ziploc bag of crackers, and I gave her mine. That was how it all started. After that, we spent every moment of recess, every weekend, and every summer together. We went on adventures with Meg Murry and Charles Wallace, ran under sprinklers and raced down the slides, and nursed sunburns after hours at the pool. I hid my secrets in her ear and she hid hers in my throat, caught forever and never said.

Jenny was the strong one, I was the weaker. I envied the bounce and confidence in her step, her boldness in clothes, and the way she could casually toss a comeback and a middle finger at anyone who dared to bring her down. She was an only child, raised by just a mother. My dad was rarely around, so I pretended we were alike in that sense. I couldn't help but be jealous, especially when she grew even more beautiful and her braces were taken off. That's when I began to feel something more...

It started our sophomore year when she spent the week at my house. Her mom had gone to visit family and opted to let Jenny have fun at my house for the week. She stood in my room, about to take a shower, when she quietly undressed and stood there while she looked at herself in the mirror. I couldn't help but stare with her. Her body was curved at the hips and shoulders, and she had perfectly rounded breasts that I couldn't ignore.

Her hair curled softly at her ears down, and she tilted her head. My eyes followed the contours of her body to the darker shadow between her legs. It was hard to keep my hands to myself, I'll admit.

"Taylor," she said. "What do you think of my body?"

My tongue couldn't form words. I stammered,"Stunning."

She touched her shoulders, then moved slowly lower and lower to her hips. "You think so?"

My head bobbed up and down in a nervous nod. "Absolutely."

"Thanks," she whispered.

She then gathered her clothes and walked to my bathroom that was adjacent to my bedroom. The door was left open and I longed to be inside with her. But my hands were told no. It was dirty, it was wrong. It was unhealthy, it would ruin everything.

But now I was ready. It would be almost my last chance to tell her.