You think your first kiss, your first real kiss, will be life-changing. Like opening a window, smelling the fresh air and thinking well, this is it, or something. Everyone makes it seem like a rite of passage, even when you have to do it at seventeen because you’re barely capable of talking to girls, much less making one like you.
They say it will be exciting.
Magical, even.
Let me ruin that for you: it's messy, it's awkward, and it sure as hell didn’t feel like the movies made it look. As I lay in bed, mind racing over the details several hours later, I didn’t feel like my life had changed. I didn’t feel like the world was suddenly my oyster. I really just felt like punching myself in the face for choosing that moment, that horrible, charged, and important moment to let the other side of my brain take over and be all brave and impulsive. I clenched my fingers hard into my palms just thinking about it.
I. Was. An. Idiot.
Ugh.
Quinn had seemed like she knew what she was doing, which made me all the more nervous. Her lips were soft and warm and tasted vaguely like vanilla, and everything else a girl’s lips should be. Mine were chapped, and couldn’t find the right angle, and they stuck together too much. Was that a thing? Sticky lips? I didn’t know. I didn’t really want to know. I kind of wanted to just forget about it, but I couldn’t. Despite how soul-rendingly embarrassing the whole thing was, it was still… incredible, I suppose. I smiled up into the darkness of my room and then groaned, crushing my pillow over my face.
Ugh!
There was no way I was ever going to be able to face her again. I was going to have to quit going to Group. Maybe I needed to be homeschooled, too. Or maybe I just needed to move to Alaska where I would never have to show my stupid face in public again. I sighed and moved my pillow away from my face, hugging it to my chest. I liked Quinn. A lot. It was obviously a well-known fact to me. I just wasn’t sure how I felt about it being a well-known fact to her, too.
My phone buzzed on my bedside table and I flipped it upward so I could see the screen, expecting a junk email from any one of the dozens of tech websites I couldn’t remember why I had subscribed to. My heart jumped up somewhere into my tracheal region when I saw it was actually a text from Quinn. I put the phone down quickly before I could read any of it. I stared at the phone. I took a few breaths. I picked the phone back up and mustered up the courage to look.
You still awake?
That wasn’t so bad. I could handle some small talk. Yeah, I typed back. It seemed like ages before she replied, but was really only one agonizing, nail-biting minute.
I think we should talk. Those fateful words flashed across my screen as my cellphone buzzed again. Then, a few moments later: Actually, I have something to show you.
My mind swirled with the possibilities, both wonderful and awful. What is it? I tapped into the keyboard.
I’ll be there in ten minutes. Wear black.
Of course she wasn’t going to tell me, that would be far too easy and very un-Quinn-like. “Wear black?” What kind of instruction was that? I tried to stifle the my growing excitement and apprehension by busying myself with finding some reasonably clean jeans to throw on, as well as a navy-blue sweatshirt because I didn’t really own anything in black. Now, I just had to get out of the house.
We had one of those beeping things on the front door that turned on after ten o’clock, so I had to go out a window. I knew it would be easier to get out of one of the first-floor windows but my parents were sure to hear the noise, so I was pretty much suck with my bedroom window. I slid it open as quietly as possible and popped out the screen, laying it carefully against the wall. I then used my bed and the wall to slowly lift myself over the sill until I was sitting with my legs dangling out over the roof tiles. I peeked out over the edge of the roof and almost turned around.
It was kind of a long way down, and my parents would kill me a second time if I fell to my death. I steeled myself and took one careful step out onto the slippery-looking roof tiles. It turned out that they actually aren't very slippery, they’re just meant to look sort of shiny. I stood all the way up and cautiously closed my window almost all the way (still had to get back in) before searching for a way down.
Our roof was two-tiered, with my room sitting on the upper part and the lower part hanging over the front door-slash-porch. I butt-scooted to the lower part and realized the only way I could get down was to hang off the end of the roof and drop down into the lawn. If I was hanging with my arms fully extended, it was probably only a four foot fall, but it seemed like a lot while I was looking down warily from my perch. I heard a car coming up the street and realized with a lurch of panic that if anyone saw me up here they’d probably think I was breaking in and call the cops. It surge of sheer adrenaline I swung myself down over the ledge and, before I could psych myself out, let go without looking down.
The fall seemed to take forever, and when it came I wasn’t ready for it. My knees somewhat awkwardly buckled and I kept on going, smacking into the hard ground flat on my back. Every bit of air was expelled from my lungs and I thought I was dead for a moment before the wheezing and gasping started. I rolled over onto my stomach tried to calm myself. It wasn’t pretty, but I had successfully snuck out of the house! I pulled myself unsteadily to my feet and saw the sleek BMW pull in front of a house across the street and several doors down.
“Did you get out alright?” Quinn asked when I opened the passenger door. She was dressed in all black, of course, and I began to assume our destination.
“For the most part,” I said, buckling up and looking back at my house to make sure I hadn’t woken anyone up. Of course the kiss was still occupying most of my brain, but I needed to play it cool because I still wasn’t sure how she felt about the whole thing. I didn’t want to make any more of a fool of myself than I already had. We drove in silence, taking the now-familiar route in the direction of Harmony Estates. My assumption was confirmed as Quinn pulled into the neighborhood across from the gated community and shut off the engine. We sat in silence for a few moments before she turned to me, businesslike and stiff.
“First things first,” she said, staring hard straight out the windshield, gripping the steering wheel tightly with both hands. “You will tell no one of what you are about to see. Even if you are, I don’t know, interrogated thirty years from now. This. Never. Happened.”
“Okay?” I said, extremely unsure of myself.
“Second, you will follow my lead exactly. I’ve never--can never, mind you--get in trouble for what we are about to do.”
“Um…” I was pretty nervous now.
“Finally,” she shifted slightly in her seat and turned to look at me, expression softening considerably. “Thanks for tagging along. I’ve never shared this with anyone before. Not one single person.”
“You’re welcome,” I said in a small voice feeling somewhat proud and somewhat terrified to be Quinn’s most trusted confidant.
She opened her door and got out, me following close behind, and started off toward the metal gates on the other side of the road. A car approached from the direction of the main road and Quinn snatched my sleeve and dragged me behind a bush. It wasn’t a big bush so we were practically squashed together and I could smell a slight hint of vanilla on her breath. My mind started to wander, only to be interrupted by Quinn pulling on me again the moment the late night driver passed. She stopped to listen for more cars for several seconds before darting across the street.
“The gate makes a loud buzz if you open it.” She her head at a little grey keypad as soon as we reached the gates. “We have to climb over.” I was prepared for this, as I had watched her do it several times by now. She slipped a thin envelope out of her hoodie pocket and held it out to me. I reached out to grab it, but she didn’t let go right away. “Don’t open it.”
I nodded vigorously and she let me take it. By the dim orange glow of the single streetlight on the corner I could just barely make out From: Colorblind, To: Happiness on the front, just like I had seen the last time she had brought me here. Quinn got a bit of a jogging start and leapt at the gate, grabbing the top bar and pulling herself up with practiced movements until she was sitting at the very top. Then she swung herself over and jumped the rest of the way down, landing lightly on the grassy strip next to the road on the other side.
She held out her hand through the bars of the gate and I realized she hadn’t wanted me to hold onto the letter or anything, she just didn’t want it to get crumpled. I placed it in her hand. I tried my best to mimic her moves when jumping the gate but I was far less graceful and comically cumbersome as I landed right on my ass on the other side. To her credit, Quinn didn’t laugh (I would have) and helped to to my feet. I brushed myself off and gave her a what now? Look.
“Follow me.”
She started off at a trot along the sidewalk that followed the snaking black artery of the neighborhood. You couldn’t really see much from the street outside, but the homes within Harmony Estates were easily over a million dollars and were meticulous upkept to a golfing-brochure degree. Phoenix is in the desert--obviously there isn’t a ton of water for things like grass, but every single one of the houses had a huge, full lawn instead of the dry, scraggly stuff the rest of us had. We crossed several of said lawns before we reached a sort of wooded path a few blocks down. By then I was tired or jumping and falling and jogging and I had to stop to catch my breath.
“It’s not much further,” Quinn said, pacing on the sidewalk a little bit ahead of me. She seemed anxious and kept looking up and down the sidewalk.
“This is… sort of… a strange place to… wander around.” I wheezed, holding my hands atop my head. I really needed to spend less time at my computer and maybe take up jogging or something.
“We’re not wandering,” Quinn said somewhat defensively. “I know exactly where we’re going.”
“Alright,” I sighed, resigning myself to finish the crazy game of follow-the-leader.
Quinn led us down the winding sidewalk past several massive backyards and across another road. She turned left and followed the sidewalk up to the next side street and stopped in front of another, smaller gate. She leaned against the gate with both hands and peered up the heavily wooded cement driveway beyond. “We’re here.”
I took a moment to look around and realized that we were standing in front of a single two-story house--more of a cottage, actually--which was sitting inside a completely fenced-off lot within the neighborhood itself. There was a streetlight on the corner next to us and I could see that the yard was neglected in all senses of the word, practically a dirt lot with cacti and sagebrush scattered throughout. It was a strange sight, considering the grass that grew right up to the decorative fence was as green and lush as the rest of the neighborhood. Only then did I realize that the house was beginning to show signs of abandonment as well, with one window broken, the porch sagging slightly, and a shutter from an upstairs window just sitting on the roof.
“What is this?” I asked finally, leaning up against the gate next to Quinn, watching her out of the corner of my eye. She seemed to behold the place with a sort of hushed reverence that people usually reserve for a war memorial.
“This,” she said, running a hand along the gate and patting it gently. “This is 305 Rosewood Place."
Of course I could tell the place was more than it looked on the outside (which was a ramshackle house that seemed not to belong in this particular neighborhood) but I didn’t press for details right away; I knew she’d tell me why we were here eventually.
We stood gazing through the fence for a few moments before a pair of headlights appeared at the end of the street and Quinn pulled me behind a big flowery shrub and out of sight. We waited for almost a minute before the vehicle passed slowly by; it was a white PHX-PD patrol car. I felt my heart rate spike and panic set in. I turned the opposite direction and tried to scoot away, mind racing. I’d never run from the cops before! I’d never had to run from the cops!
“Relax,” Quinn whispered, grabbing my shirt sleeve and tugging on it. “They patrol this neighborhood all the time ‘cause it makes all the rich people feel safe. Plus kids used to break into the house here to get wasted and play with fire and stuff. They’ll be gone in a sec.”
“That’s comforting,” I hissed back dryly, crouching lower and breathing as quietly as I could, never doubting once that we would be caught and life as I knew it would end--literally, as soon as my parents found out and murdered me. True to her word, the patrol car never stopped, but eventually sped up and turned right, back toward the main gate. I let out a huge sigh of relief and wiped my sweating palms on my knees. “Maybe we should get back to the car,” I suggested weakly.
“We will, just give me a sec,” she replied, and I could almost feel her eye-roll in the darkness.
She led me back to the gated driveway, which was locked with a loose length of chain, and squeezed her way through the gap where the gates met. I wasn’t that big of a guy, but there was no way I was going to be able to follow. I began searching for a good place to climb over.
“Hold on,” Quinn whispered, looking anxious. “Look, it’ll be easier for me just to do this part by myself. You don’t have to come over.”
Immediately I could tell something was off. “You’re not going inside, are you?” I whispered incredulously. It didn’t looks safe. Not even a little bit. To my relief, she shook her head.
“No, I’m just going up to the porch,” she whispered back. She smiled weakly, corners of her mouth flicking upward for a moment before she turned and started her long walk across the desolate lawn. She removed the white envelope that, frankly, I’d completely forgotten about, from her hoodie pocket and held it delicately in both hands. As she approached the house I could see that she was heading toward a slot in the front wall of the porch by the front door. Of course, it was an older house and older houses had mail slots instead of those big public grey things we had in my neighborhood. It took me a moment to realize that she planned on putting the envelope in the mail slot.
Quinn was delivering her letters to 305 Rosewood Place.
With a metal squeak the thin white envelope disappeared into the sagging bowels of the house and Quinn was making her way back toward me. She slipped back through the gate and faced me, hands clasped in front of her and apprehensive, as if waiting for my critique of her performance or something.
“That’s it?” Was all I could muster. We had just basically broken not only into a gated community, but also into some kind of private prperty. All to deliver one letter.
“That’s it,” she repeated, turning back to the house for a moment and then back to me. “So, what do you think?”
“What do I think?” I asked, perplexed. “I think it’s pretty crazy that we came all the way out here, dodging cops and everything, just to deliver a stupid letter.”
I could immediately tell it was precisely the wrong thing to say, I I wished I could suck the word right back into my stupid, stupid face. Quinn’s expression fell instantaneously and she seemed to withdraw, deflate, almost, back within herself. I opened my mouth, intending on correcting myself, but I didn’t even know what to say. A knot deep inside me somewhere twisted painfully as something shiny rolled down her cheek and i realized it was a tear.. “Hey, are you okay?” I choked out finally.
She didn’t answer for the longest time and I was sure I had just done damage beyond repair. Finally, Quinn sniffed a little and took a deep, shuddering breath breath. “No, you’re kind of right,” She said thickly with a long sigh. “It is a little crazy, isn’t it? That’s me, little miss cuckoo. Miss Messed-Up. Frauline Fucked.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said quickly, feeling like I had stomped on the wrong accelerator and we were probably headed for a dark place I didn’t want to go. Idiot! I screamed at myself as I tried to stumble through some excuses. Quinn just waved me off.
“It’s fine,” she said, wiping one eye quickly with a knuckle and standing a little straighter as if to say look, I’m okay. The knot wouldn’t leave the pit of my stomach. “I just thought… that, maybe…” She trailed off, looking back at the house forlornly.
“Thought what?” I pressed quickly, not wanting to lose her.
“Thought that, after tonight, I could finally share this place with someone.”
The words hit me like a ten-pound sledgehammer right to the chest, and I wasn’t even entirely sure why we were even here. I sort of reached out for her hand but missed and she turned away, back toward the way we came. “We should go,” she said finally.
“Hey, you can share this place, whatever it is,” I said hopefully before she could move away. She turned back to me and I could see by the light of the lonely steetlamp that her eyes had hardened back to their usual steel, no trace of the playful mischief I had come to know recently.
“I hope so,” was all she said before she started walking back toward the darkness.
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