“Where?” Lily asked. “Where can we go?”
* * *
—
The last stall in the girls’ bathroom on the second floor had a full-length door, but every girl knew about it and tried to use that stall when she was on her period. There was a shadowy corner under the stairs to the gym by the locker rooms, but anyone could walk past and see them. And then Lily remembered the home-economics storage closet on the third floor, which had a key that Lily knew about from her time on the dance committee.
Several days passed before Lily was able to get the key. Preparations for the Miss Chinatown contest were ramping up （there were barely three weeks to go）， and after school Lily had to help sell raffle tickets at the Chinese Hospital, or at Flora’s father’s store, or at the Eastern Pearl. Figuring out a way to evade Shirley’s various demands felt like running an obstacle course, but Lily was afraid to deny her too openly and raise her suspicions.
Finally, on Thursday after school, Lily met Kath outside the home economics kitchen, where she pulled the key off the pegboard over the sink, and then led the way to the unmarked door down the hall. Lily checked to make sure that the hallway was deserted before she unlocked the closet, and then she and Kath quickly ducked in, pulling the door shut behind them.
It was cramped and dusty and hard to see. The only light came from the crack beneath the door, and Lily immediately bumped into a stack of metal bowls that made an awful racket. “Sorry!” Lily whispered.
“Careful.” Kath reached for her hand to pull her away from the bowls, and it was the first time they had really touched since that night in the alley.
Lily suddenly felt strangely shy. Kath was so close. She couldn’t see much beyond the dim outline of Kath’s head and shoulders. The storage closet smelled faintly of pineapple juice, and Lily heard the sounds of the school in the background. Distant doors slammed shut; voices rose and fell indistinctly; footsteps came briskly down the hall toward them and then, thankfully, went past. The closet didn’t lock from the inside, of course; anyone could open the door and find them. She was conscious of her own hand becoming slippery in Kath’s.
“Are you okay?” Kath whispered. “You seem . . . tense.”
“No, I . . .” Tense was not the right word. Terrified, maybe.
Almost a week had passed since their first kiss, which had been so surprising that it almost felt accidental. Today was no accident. They had planned to meet here, in this closet, to keep this secret. They knew what could happen if they were discovered; Jean had shown them.
For one awful moment Lily wanted to flee. She could open the door right now—she could say this was all a mistake—she could feel the relief waiting for her out in the hallway, and perhaps Kath sensed this because she asked, “Are you changing your mind?”
Her voice was thin and vulnerable, and it made Lily ashamed. “No,” she whispered, and she took a step closer to Kath. Her mouth was almost touching her own; she could feel the heat of her breath on her lips. She could smell the fragrance of Kath’s skin; it raised goose bumps on her arms. She gently pulled her hand from Kath’s and deliberately, lightly, placed her hands around Kath’s neck as if they were about to dance. She heard the inhale and exhale of Kath’s breath in the darkness, and then Kath slid her hands around Lily’s waist and leaned forward to kiss her.
It felt different this time—weighted. They were making this choice together, and Lily felt the seriousness with which Kath touched her. Her mouth questioned her with each kiss: Is this what you want? And Lily tried to say yes in the way she pulled Kath close to her, the way she caressed the fine soft hairs on the nape of Kath’s neck, the way she pressed her breasts against Kath’s body.
Yes.
36
On Friday, Kath pulled Lily aside after math class, her fingers briefly—electrically—curling around Lily’s arm. As students rushed past them in the hallway, Kath said, “Miss Weiland is taking the G.A.A. bowling next Wednesday.”
“You want to go bowling again?” Lily said, surprised.
“No. Her classroom will be empty.” Kath glanced behind Lily and leaned slightly closer so that she could whisper. “Meet me there on Wednesday? Fifteen minutes after school. The door locks.”
* * *
—
On Saturday, Shirley called Lily at home.
“Are you still going to the hospital to sell raffle tickets today?” Shirley asked.
“Yes, why?”
Shirley sighed heavily. “You don’t need to bother. One of the other Miss Chinatown contestants convinced some of the Six Companies’ board members to buy thousands of them all at once. I’m not going to beat her.”