"It was your hair that first attracted me to you," she said as she ran her hands through Joe's auburn waves. "It hypnotized me. I just wanted to bury my face in it."

Joe chuckled in astonishment, still in a state of drunken bliss that had nothing to do with alcohol; indeed, he was entirely sober, as was she; she wanted her head clear to remember this moment for all time, their first time together.

She lay on top of him, her weight barely felt by his enormous body. He'd been big when she'd first met him. A few years of football and weightlifting had made him massive, while she'd barely gained a few inches in height since arriving in Queensborough when she was twelve. His head lay on a pillow formed from their clothes, his body on a blanket he'd brought with him. He'd also brought a picnic basket with sandwiches he'd made, and pop to drink. He'd been so sweet to think of nourishment for their first time, and so nervous that he'd been shaking, which had made her even more ravenous for him.

Because of his Catholic upbringing, he wasn't supposed to have sex until he married, and he wouldn't even agree to do other things with her that weren't full-on intercourse, because that still counted in his mind. The closest they'd come to up to that point was some heavy petting where he'd let her grab him through his pants, and that was all the forewarning she'd gotten of what she would encounter when she finally let that beast loose. 

When he finally couldn't wait any longer, and no amount of prayer was going to make him strong enough to resist, and after she'd gone with her mom to the doctor to get the prescription she needed, they'd finally set the date and Joe had found the secluded place. And when she'd whipped it out and had her hands on it at last, he'd ejaculated before getting it anywhere near her.

Luckily, they were teenagers, and it hadn't taken long for him to be ready again, after she'd directed his hands to the parts of her she wanted him to feel, and brought his mouth between her legs, and she'd taken him in her mouth for the first time. 

"Jesus, Lauren!" he'd said. "If you do that to me any longer I might come again before we can really do it." 

So, she'd climbed on top of him and slowly, slowly, slowly, filled herself with him, and it had been painful and glorious, and she'd barely moved her hips before he'd exploded again, and she'd left him inside her while she'd lain on top of him, satisfied and in love, and his arms had engulfed her and made her feel so safe.

"So, would you say my hair is my best asset?" Joe asked.

She chuckled suggestively and wiggled her hips. "Uh-uh. Your best asset is still inside my best asset."

"Jesus, Lauren, you're so sexy. Where did you learn to do all that?"

"I don't know. I just touch and kiss what I want, and just see what feels good."

"Did I thank you yet?"

"For what?"

"For convincing me not to wait. How did I ever think I could hold out that long?"

She kissed him hard on the mouth. "Oh, Joe, you're still a very good boy. And anyway, we'll get married some day."

"Will we? Because I love you Lauren, and that's what I want."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"Oh! Are you okay?" he asked. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

She shook her head and kissed him again. "I'm just so happy. This was perfect. And I love you too, so much. And I can't wait to marry you."

"Good. I'm glad. You didn't ask me what first attracted me to you."

She chuckled. "You mean my overalls?"

He laughed. She'd ditched the overalls by this time, but her attire wasn't exactly girly by any standard. "No," he said. "What first drew me to you was your dimples."

"Of course."

"The second was the way you looked at me."

She blinked in surprise. "The way I looked at you?"

"You really don't know about that look?"

She shook her head, bewildered.

"I noticed it all the way back when we first got together, the LSDC, and we were deciding what stuff to do, and whenever I said something, even if it was something you didn't agree with, you would give me this look like you were sizing me up and figuring out what parts of me you wanted to eat first. It made me feel exposed, but also a little excited, like I couldn't imagine why any girl would want to pay attention to me."

"Are you kidding? You're all man meat. You must get a lot of attention at your high school from the Catholic girls."

He blushed. "Sometimes, but I always look forward to coming home to you every day."

"Good answer. As for what part I want to eat first, well, now I know for sure," she said. "It will be your pecker. Always."

"Jesus, I'm getting hard again."

"Good. I want to try at least one more time before we go. I want it to last a little longer."

"How did I get so lucky, to be with a girl like you?"

She shrugged. "It wasn't luck. I saw what I wanted and went after it. You were my prey, and hopeless to resist me, that's all."

"You're right. How about you? Do guys make passes at you at Endub?"

She sighed. "Do you really want to know?"

"That bad? Tell me who they are, and I'll throttle them."

"Don't worry. I manage. If they get fresh I tell them about the sword I have at home, and that I'll bring it to school the next day."

"Wouldn't you get in trouble for that?"

"Oh, yeah, but it's usually enough to tell them, let them imagine what would happen."

He frowned. "I can't stand not being there to fend them off for you."

"I know. Let's not talk about that right now. The school year's over, thank God, and I don't have to worry about them for a whole two months. I want to be with you again, and for that I want to be entirely present in this moment, not fuming about creeps and losers."

She began to move again, and kiss him again, and he was hard inside her already, and this time it lasted much, much longer.

If she'd told him the truth about how things were at Endub, he would have ended their lovemaking session early, packed the car, driven to the houses of every boy who harassed her at school and beaten them to a pulp, and he would probably be in jail right now.

She wondered if things would have been different if Al and Rachel still went to school with her, as they had in eighth grade and, for Rachel, part of the ninth. Friends provided a buffer, a safe zone that kept the predators out. Without Al and Rachel, she'd been left alone and exposed like a kitten in the rain, and her only option had been to find a new friend or clique, quickly, or be prey.

She'd never found another group. So, just like when she'd lived in Richmond, she'd become prey.

Making friends proved to be just too exhausting, too futile, when most of the head space remaining to her after homework and Joe was devoted only to missing Rachel. The girls roaming the halls of her high school were shallow and superficial, impressed only with the latest clothes and shoes and makeup. Lauren, who wore none of these, concerned not at all with fashion, having only recently stopped wearing overalls to stop looking like a child, could not escape the indulgent pity in their voices as they condescended to her, because some of them genuinely thought she was some genius child who'd skipped a few grades. Mostly it was because of her height, but Lauren knew there was a little bit of racism in there too, because her face in the mirror was still Asiatic even if her skin was lighter than her father's, and the stereotype of the smart chink was alive and well, even if that wasn't her heritage at all.

The boys were worse.

"Hey, rug-muncher!" they'd call to her in the hallways. This salutation had puzzled her at first. She'd known it was meant to be insulting, but the term had made no sense. Rugs, in her experience, were generally inedible, and dusty. Why she'd want to eat one she couldn't fathom. When other girls had tittered upon hearing the epithet directed at her, she'd been even more confused.

"Lez be friends!" they would invite her as they walked backwards, matching her pace.

"No, thank you," she would respond, and that made them laugh even harder.

It had never occurred to her that her bowl-cut hair, her jeans and her collared shirts, which she wore baggy because she was self-conscious about how small her boobs were, her sneakers, all of these painted an image that was displeasing to the male populace of the high school, as if she gave a damn what they thought; that because she didn't show off her body for their delectation, she was somehow not orientated to them and their needs, and that was worthy of ridicule.

Her greatest tormentor, however, was the exact opposite of those boys. His laser eyes seemed to cut through her clothes to her body beneath. His name was Randy, and he had a locker close to hers. He would always linger a little too long at his while she was at hers getting her books for the next class, and she could feel his eyes on her even if she wasn't looking at him.

One time she'd opened her locker and found a folded note shoved in the jamb of the locker door.

I've got yellow fever, the note had said, and she'd known exactly who'd put it there.

After that she'd done her best to avoid him, even avoiding going to her locker if she saw him there, going to class without her books, getting reprimanded by the teacher. Luckily he was a year older than her so not in any of her classes, but visible enough in the hallways and the grounds.

Eventually she'd gotten so tired of getting in trouble for not having her books that she'd decided to leave him a little note of her own.

You like Japanese? I'll bring my samurai sword to school and show you how sharp it is.

It didn't stop him lingering at the locker, but she felt brave enough to be there when he was, and she never got another note.

They drove home in Johnny's car, which Joe had borrowed for the night. Joe was saving up for his own, and he worked this summer at Gastaldo Concrete to earn the money. It was backbreaking work, he said, but the pay was good, and he liked working outside, and he liked being around construction sites and seeing how buildings went up, any kind of buildings; he was fascinated by how the concrete he helped shovel and smooth, poured into moulds around rebar and steel, helped to anchor a building and keep it from falling.

"I think I might go into construction when I get out of school," he said as he steered.

"Mmmm," Lauren mumbled, barely hearing him, she was sleepy and loose and happy, nestled into his chest, fitting perfectly under his arm. She had a pleasant soreness in her nether regions, and she thought she might never want to stop driving, just keep going until they fell off the Earth. This moment was perfect, and she could already see herself in bed with him, in a house of their own, married, maybe with a kid or two somewhere in the future. Just the two of them. It would be hard not being in the same house as her mom and dad, but the bright side was he would also be out of his parents' house.

He needed to get out of that house. His mom especially was a dominating presence in his life, a source of fear and guilt; he'd had to lie to her to stop any speculation about what he might be doing tonight, but the woman could see around corners, and Lauren knew she wasn't fooled. She felt Mrs. DiTomaso's disapproval every time she was near her son; Joe's mom might have tolerated her when she was a twelve-year-old of undefinable gender, but that had dissolved the first time she'd seen her and Joe holding hands.

She even lingered in the doorway of her house as Joe pulled up, and Lauren woke up in a hurry, on high alert for any signs on her that they'd fooled around. It was hard to tell with only the streetlights for illumination, but at least she hadn't been wearing a flimsy dress that could be torn off in the heat of passion. She'd dressed as she always did, and they'd disrobed as carefully as they could, making sure none of the clothes touched the grass to be stained. She didn't wear makeup, so there was none to smear. They'd made sure to comb their hair back into place.

She kissed Joe one last time before opening the passenger side door and getting out. "Good night, my love."

"Goodnight, Lauren. I love you."

"I love you too."

She closed the door and walked the rest of the way down Lawrence Street, back to the apartment at the top of the zig-zag stairs. She made sure not to look back; she didn't want to see the look on his mother's face.

"Hello, Lauren."

Lauren snapped out of her memory of last night's events and focused back on her work. She had her own summer job. She worked as a cashier at Spagnol's. The same place she'd frequented with Rachel, buying candy bars, pop, and later magazines and nail polish, was now her employer, and she had a snazzy brown tunic uniform to prove it.

She looked at the customer checking out and was astonished to see that it was Mrs. Anderson. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen her. She saw Mr. Anderson all the time because he was the butcher here, but his wife remained elusive.

"Hello, Mrs. Anderson," she said, more enthusiastically than she'd intended. "How long has it been?"

"You know, I can't remember. Let's see... maybe when Rachel moved away last year?"

"That's incredible, you live just down the street from me. How have we not run into each other in all that time?"

Mrs. Anderson began loading her items on the conveyor belt. "I suppose you have school, and I have many activities around the city: the botanical society, the historical society, the community centre, the women's shelter. I see you're working here now."

"Yes. I was lucky to get the job, since it's my first and I have no other experience."

Mrs. Anderson smiled. "Oh, I think James had a little something to do with that."

Lauren blinked in surprise. "Mr. Anderson got me the job?"

"He put in a good word with Mr. Spagnol when he saw you applied."

Lauren felt touched. "I don't know what to say. I didn't know he knew me that well."

"Of course he did. We still remember what you did for Danny Trybek. You were a loyal friend to someone you barely knew, and you put yourself at risk to help him."

Lauren began ringing in her purchases and bagging them. "I don't suppose you ever found out what happened to him?"

"I'm afraid not," Mrs. Anderson said sadly. "I think Mrs. Trybek is gone too, she probably couldn't hold onto the house with her husband in prison."

Lauren shook her head. "I feel bad that he still had to suffer even with his dad gone."

"I'm afraid life doesn't work like a fairy tale. You don't always get a happy ending."

"That's really sad."

Mrs. Anderson sighed, then seemed to snap out of her gloom. "But look at you. You've grown a little, you look healthy and happy. You seem to be doing well."

"I am, thank you."

"How are your parents?"

"Fine. Dad's still on the boats, making good money, but Mom's thinking about going back to working as a teacher now that I don't need her as much anymore."

"Oh! I didn't know she was a teacher. I'm sure the New Westminster school system would be happy to have her. She could even work at Queen Elizabeth!"

"Yes, I think she'd like that, it would just be a short walk to work."

"How is school? You're still at New Westminster Secondary, aren't you?"

Lauren nodded. "To be honest, it's a little lonely. I miss Rachel and Al being with me."

Mrs. Anderson grew sad again. "Yes. Rachel. I miss her dearly."

Suddenly Lauren thought she might cry. She missed Rachel like she'd miss a leg, but she hadn't thought about others missing her too. Mrs. Anderson had been a mentor to Rachel and, in a way, a surrogate mother or grandmother to her, at least until her real mother had come back and ruined everything by moving her away. Not having Rachel around, to look after and teach piano, must have been hard on Mrs. Anderson too.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked. "Do you ever hear from her?"

"No, I'm sorry to say. Have you?"

"No, and I don't understand why. We were best friends. Why wouldn't she call me? I gave her my number."

"I don't know, I'm mystified too; I remember what good friends you were. I might understand why she hasn't called me, though. When she left, she was angry at me, I think because she was hurt I didn't fight harder to keep her here in Queensborough, but what could I do?" She sighed. "And now she's older, and she'd probably be embarrassed to call me now. I know how teenagers see old people. We're practically invisible to them."

Lauren wanted to protest, but she knew it would sound hollow. Instead, she said, "I'm sorry she hasn't called you. You were a big part of her life, I remember. I particularly recall one of Rachel's birthdays, when you took her downtown on a shopping trip."

"Yes, her thirteenth!" Mrs. Anderson said, suddenly brightening. "That was a nice time."

"She felt so special that day," Lauren said, embarrassed to feel tears in her eyes. "She was so excited to take the bus with you downtown, and when she came home with all the things you bought her, she told me everything about it, the malt, the movie, the dinner at King Neptune."

"The malt. Oh..." Now Mrs. Anderson took off her glasses to wipe her eyes with a handkerchief. The woman still used a cotton handkerchief. "She was so amazed at the littlest details, like she'd never been downtown before. Maybe she hadn't."

"I don't think she had. Her dad worked all the time and they never had any money."

Mrs. Anderson chuckled. "Ah, yes, Henry. A good, kind man. Always so grateful any time I did him a favour, or when I looked after Rachel. I miss him too, very much. His wife... well, I'm not sad she's gone."

Lauren chuckled too. "Well, Rachel's mom was quite the character. Oddly enough, my mom got along with her."

"Really?" Mrs. Anderson looked surprised. "Your mother is lovely, I wonder what she saw in Jennifer McWilliam."

"I don't know." Lauren finished checking out Mrs. Anderson's purchases and took her money. "Now, Mrs. Anderson, do you need any help getting this home? Should we deliver this to you later?"

Mrs. Anderson waved the suggestion away. "This won't be hard to carry home. It's how I get my exercise. If it was any heavier I'd get James to bring it back later."

"All right, Mrs. Anderson. Well, it was nice chatting with you today."

"And you too, Lauren. I wasn't sure of you when you were younger, you were a little cheeky, but I can see now that you've grown into a lovely young woman."

Lauren was moved more than she expected to be, and she quietly wondered what the older woman would think of her if she told her she'd just lost her virginity last night. "Thank you so much, that's nice of you to say," she said.

Mrs. Anderson nodded. "Well, take care now."

"You too."

Mrs. Anderson left the store, and Lauren watched her until she was gone from view, quietly remarking that, aside from last night, the conversation with her had been the most interesting thing to happen to her all summer.

Thanks for reading this far! If you read the first novel, you'll know that Mrs. Anderson features highly in that story, as the friends reunited at her memorial. Until now we didn't see her after Rachel moved away, so I wanted to have her interact with other members of the LSDC who weren't so influenced by her. For it to be Lauren, of whom she never approved when she was younger, seemed almost fitting, just to show how they've changed. If you liked this chapter, please hit "Vote" to send it up the ranks. Leave a comment and let me know what you think. Now, let's get back to Al and Lauren in the present day by clicking "Continue reading."