Middle school is hard enough without a monumentally embarrassing moment.
Too bad I couldn’t avoid said moment.
I was not the most popular person in school—pretty much middle of the pack with good friends, good grades, and no real issues. I was the girl who people probably didn’t really know existed, which was fine by me.
Of course, I noticed the popular kids. I wanted to be like the girls. I wanted the boys to like me. But I knew those weren’t things that would likely happen, so I was content with my Plain Jane existence.
Until one day in Civics class. It was a game day. A free day. And one of the cutest boys in my grade was in my group. In fact, he sat right next to me. And TALKED to me.
I’m sure I was visibly shaking at the attention—giggling like an idiot or something.
But that’s not the embarrassing moment. If only that were the extent of it. Alas, it was not. I don’t remember what the game was, only that it involved dice. Two unassuming white dice used to simply tally a score.
It wasn’t the dice’s fault.
When the cute, popular boy’s turn came, he picked up the dice making some sort of joke that left all the girls at the table laughing. Including me. I laughed along. Trying to be cool.
Then he turned to me, held his dice-filled hands to my face, and said, “For luck?” My mind went ballistic—glitching and fumbling. I had no idea what he wanted me to do.
Without another thought, I leaned forward and kissed his hands.
With my lips.
I freaking kissed his freaking hands.
The table went completely silent.
I had never kissed a boy before—not their lips, not their cheek, and not their hands. Why kissing his hands was my first thought is still beyond me.
But that’s what I did.
As my face turned to pure fire, the rest of the table gaped at us.
What would he do? What would he say? The silence was deafening.
Until he chuckled a little—my stomach still twists at the memory of that nervous chuckle—and said, “I guess that works.”
He rolled the dice while I wished I could disappear.
The game went on, and the laughter returned.
They’ll forget, I told myself. It wasn’t that bad.
Until, on his next turn, he looked to the girl on the opposite side of him and said, “Now, don’t kiss my hands, okay? Just a little blow for luck should do.”
She did what I was supposed to—blew lightly on his hands—while everyone else burst out laughing hard enough that the teacher came to our table to see what was going on.
I guess I could be thankful that no one told the teacher what I’d done—at least I don’t remember them telling him. Either way, I avoided that specific popular guy for at least a solid year or more.
Stella Bixby 