I stammered at the sudden change of topic. Kissing was not something we had discussed before.
“The other day. Charlie?” he prodded.
I looked over my shoulder for an escape route out of this conversation. “Technically,” I murmured, still looking at the water behind me.
“Technically?”
I sighed and faced him again, cringing. “Do we have to talk about this? I know fourteen is old for a first kiss, but . . .”
“Charlie is such a dick,” he interrupted with unusual sharpness.
“It’s not a big deal,” I said quickly. “It’s just a kiss. It’s not like it matters or anything,” I lied.
“Your first kiss is a big deal, Percy.”
“Oh my god,” I groaned, looking down to where our knees were touching. “You sound like my mom.” I studied the light hair that sprinkled his shins and thighs.
“Do you have your period?”
My eyes popped up to his. “You can’t ask me that!” I screeched. He’d said it so casually, as if he’d asked Do you like butternut squash?
“Why not? Most girls menstruate around twelve. You’re fourteen,” he said matter-of-factly. I wanted to jump off the raft and never come up for air.
“I can’t believe you just said ‘menstruate,’？” I muttered, my neck burning.
My period had arrived smack-dab in the middle of a school day. I stared at the red stain on my floral underwear for a full minute before pulling Delilah into the bathroom stall. For as much as I had obsessed about getting my period, I had no idea what to do. She ran to her locker and brought back a zippered pouch with pads and long tubes wrapped in yellow paper. Tampons. I couldn’t believe she used them. She showed me how to put on the pad, then said, “You’re going to have to do something about these granny panties. You’re a woman now.”
“So, do you?” Sam asked again.
“Do you have wet dreams?” I snapped.
“I’m not telling you that,” he said, his cheeks turning a deep magenta.
I dug in. “Why not? You asked me about periods. I can’t ask you about wet dreams?”
“It’s not the same,” he said, and his eyes flashed to my chest. We stared at each other.
“I’ll answer your question if you’ll answer mine,” I hedged after several long seconds passed.
He studied me, his lips pressed together. “Swear on it?” he asked.
“I swear,” I promised and tugged on his bracelet.
“Yeah, I have wet dreams,” he said quickly. He didn’t even break eye contact.
“What do they feel like? Does it hurt?” The questions sprang from my lips without my say-so.
He smirked. “No, Percy, it doesn’t hurt.”
“I can’t imagine not having control of my body like that.”
Sam shrugged. “Girls don’t have control of their periods, either.”
“That’s true. I’d never thought about that.”
“But you have thought about wet dreams.” He eyed me closely.
“Well, they sound pretty gross,” I lied. “Though not as gross as periods.”
“Periods aren’t gross. They’re part of human biology, and they’re actually pretty cool if you think about it,” he said, his eyes wide with sincerity. “They’re basically the foundation of human life.” I gaped at him. I knew Sam was smart—I’d peeked at the report card that was tacked to the Floreks’ fridge—but sometimes he said things like Periods are the foundation of human life that made me feel years behind.
“You are such a nerd,” I scoffed. “Only you would say periods are cool, but believe me, they’re gross.”
“So you do have your period,” he confirmed.
“Your deduction skills are outstanding, Doc,” I said, lying down on my back and closing my eyes to put an end to the conversation.
But after a few seconds he spoke again. “They don’t feel the same every time.” I peered up at him, but his face was silhouetted by the sun. “Sometimes I can feel it happening during a dream, and sometimes I wake up and it’s already happened.”
I shielded my eyes with my hand, trying to make out his face. “What do you dream about?” I whispered.
“What do you think, Percy?”
I had a general sense of what boys found sexy. “Blondes with big boobs?”
“Sometimes, I guess,” he said. “Sometimes girls with brown hair,” he added quietly. The way he looked down at me made my insides feel like hot honey.