Catholic school field hockey practice is a bitch. It’s long, it’s hard, and because I’m the goalie, it’s lonely. Well, after practice on Friday when Michelle, our best forward, asked if I wanted to come over for a slumber party, I jumped at the chance.
“Sure,” I said. “How many people are going to be there.”
“Including you and me,” she said putting her hand on my shoulder, “two.”
We laughed and agreed that we we’d ride in her car and she’d take me back to pick up mine the next day. We had a good time and laughed the whole way to her house, talking about boys, what it would be like to be in college next year, and what a major league bitch our coach was.
“I hear she’s a lezie, too” Michelle sneered.
“A what?” I asked.
“A lesbian, Sara,” she said. “You know, a ho-mo-sex-u-al.”
“Oh gross,” I said.
We arrived at her place, I met her parents, then we went up to her room to hang out. She had a cool room with lots of posters on the wall: Ben Harper, Phish, Widespread Panic, and more. I sat down on the edge of her bed. She sat down on a beanbag across from me. We got to talking about field hockey again, and I expressed how I felt kind of alienated being the goalie. If we won Michelle got the credit for scoring, if we lost everyone blamed me for not guarding better.
“Yeah,” she said standing up, “But I know you love it.”
“Why would I love it?” I asked.
“Cause you get to watch all of us girls in our miniskirts from behind,” She turned around lifted up her skirt, exposing black silk panties, and wagged her tight little butt in my face.
“Not true,” I exclaimed and playfully slapped her ass.
“Lezie!” She gasped, shooting me a mock face of disgust.
All of a sudden she jumped backwards at me, and we fell backwards towards the bed, my arms wrapping around her to catch her. One hand landed on her thigh, while the other grazed her breast. She reached up grabbed my hand and squeezed it to her breast, as she let out a little moan. My pulse jumped. I’d never touched another girl before, not like this. I’d never touched a guy for that matter either. But before my back even hit the bed we heard Michelle’s mom call from downstairs.
“Dinner time!” she called up the stairs.
“We’re coming,” Michelle yelled back as she hopped off of me, hopped off of the bed.
I lay there for a minute and watched Michelle throw open the door and hurry out of the room. What did all this mean? Was she mad at me? Did she hate me? Would she let me touch her again? I hurried downstairs.
I tried to enjoy my dinner, but Michelle wouldn’t make eye contact with me and her cute older brother, a sophomore in college, who was home for the weekend, kept flirting with me. I kept ignoring him, but it was all a little weird. When dinner was over we went back upstairs. We didn’t say much to each other as we took turns in the bathroom, brushing our teeth and getting ready for bed.
Still in my uniform, I laid down on my side on one side of the bed and waited for her to come in. She came in, also in her uniform and laid down facing me.
“Do you like my brother,” she asked.