there was something in everything about you

brown corduroy overalls with a hand-me-down striped shirt, i think it was kristin's, the girl who first told me what it was like to french kiss a boy. she had that magical teen at the end of her age, the aura of being older, of really knowing things.

her parents would come over on saturday nights, back when they were still married, and they would drink wine and play records. i knew all the songs by heart, and sang them quietly to myself when no one noticed.

kristin would talk me into sneaking outside so she could spy over the fence at the twin boys who lived across the street. i thought they were awful, the same boys who refused me entry into the no girls allowed treehouse, and threw baseballs at me when i was six.

i thought to myself that i would never want to french kiss either of them, but kristin thought different, and whisper-sang baby come back to them as they got into one of their cars and drove off.