Forums

Nick

The first time I saw Sicilia she was standing around the back of the bike sheds puffing on a cigarette. Her school skirt was rolled up showing off her long tanned legs, and her hair was in a high ponytail, held there with a tartan scrunchy.

She was talking with a group of friends and it was clear she was the coolest in the bunch, the one they all wanted to be like. Not that she was aware of that, the one thing I knew about Sicilia was she had no idea of the effect she had on the people around her.

“You’re a lucky bastard sitting next to her in Geography,” Martin, my best mate said as he shook a ciggie from a packet. “I’d give her one any day.”

His words irked me. Sicilia was worth more than a quickie, or a blow job after the school disco, or a frisky afternoon bunking off down at Farmer Drayton’s old barn. She was intelligent, caring, she had a keen sense of humour and dreams of becoming a nurse. She loved her dog, Poochie, and worried about her older brother who was recovering from a serious car accident that had shaken the whole family.

“Yeah,” I muttered, wondering if I should go and talk to her.

“Here.” Martin handed me a fag.

“Thanks.”

“Think I’ll try my luck,” Martin said, lighting up.

“With what?” My heart sank. I knew what he was talking about. He was going to try his luck with the only girl in the school I had any interest in. And being that he was tall, blond and had that surfer dude look going on, he’d likely have success.

“You know, getting in her knickers,” he said. “Trying my luck at that.”

I frowned and squeezed the cigarette in my hand. It snapped.

“Hey, watch it, I paid good money for that.” He took it from me and tried to fix it.

“You really think she’d let you anywhere near her knickers?” I hoped my tone held enough doubt that his confidence would be shaken.

“Sure, I’ve seen the way she looks at me.”

“Does she?” I glanced her way again.

She was staring straight at me.

The hairs on the back of my neck tickled and my heart did a strange rolling whump, whump. Heat travelled over my shoulders and up my neck. I hoped my cheeks weren’t going red.

“Yeah.” Martin paused to shoot a stream of smoke out through his pursed lips. “Last week, in art, she was giving me those come-to-bed eyes, or should I say let-me-spread-my-legs-for-you eyes.” He laughed.

“She was not.”