Shirley bent down to Calvin and kissed him. A smile crossed his face, and he reached out of the car and put his hand on her waist, drawing her down for another kiss. The way Calvin touched Shirley—the way they lingered over their kiss—sent a shiver of recognition through Lily. （Before she and Kath left the home economics closet, their fingers linked until the last possible moment.）
When Shirley finally pulled back, she was smiling too.
The street was clear by now, but Lily didn’t move. She continued to stand on the corner, watching as Shirley waved goodbye to Calvin and hurried down Powell toward Chinatown. Calvin turned his car toward Columbus. Shirley didn’t glance back in Lily’s direction. She didn’t see Lily at all, but Lily saw the jaunty way she walked, head up and shoulders back, carefree.
* * *
—
On Monday, Lily watched Shirley closely, but Shirley seemed the same as ever, except with a renewed determination to win the Miss Chinatown contest. She regaled Lily and their friends with her plan to rework her pageant speech, which she would practice at a full dress rehearsal on Friday night. Lily and Kath had plans to go to the Telegraph Club on Friday night, too, but she agreed to the dress rehearsal; it would be over before it was time to meet Kath.
On Tuesday, Kath left a note in Lily’s locker. They’d begun leaving each other messages after Christmas break—only a few lines long and never signed. Lily knew she should wait to read them in private, but she was always too impatient, and today was no exception. She unfolded it inside her locker, angling the metal door so that she had some privacy. Kath had small, neat handwriting, and the note was short and to the point. Can’t wait till tomorrow.
Lily smiled. She pulled out her pencil and wrote beneath it: Me neither. She folded it back into a neat square, and in math class she slipped it into Kath’s hand, her fingers brushing like feathers against Kath’s palm.
* * *
—
On Wednesday, it rained. All day it tapped against the windows like a drumroll. After school, Lily dawdled at her locker, straightening up her books, putting on and then taking off her coat, glancing impatiently at her watch.
Finally, it was time. She walked to Miss Weiland’s classroom alone, and when she arrived, it was unlocked and deserted. Rainy afternoon light came through the half-closed blinds, casting pale stripes across the floor. She went to one of the windows and looked out; it had a view of the courtyard. She was there for barely a minute before she heard footsteps, and when she turned around, she saw Kath closing the classroom door.
Lily crossed the room and reached for Kath’s hand, her pulse already leaping.
“Wait,” Kath said, and she first locked the door from the inside, and then went across the room to close the blinds.
Lily went to help her. When they were finished, the room was almost dark, although the thin rectangular window in the door let in light from the hallway. If anyone stood at that window and peered inside, they’d be able to see most of the classroom. Lily and Kath headed for the farthest corner, which was blocked from the window’s view by the tall metal filing cabinet. Above it, Miss Weiland had pinned a travel poster depicting palm trees and a beach, with the words LOS ANGELES written across the sky.
Lily reached for Kath’s hand and drew her closer, her heart racing with anticipation. She had to be at Commodore Stockton to meet Frankie in an hour and a half, which gave them barely an hour together. She already felt the minutes ticking by too fast, but part of her realized there was something delicious about prolonging this moment, this intolerable pause before they kissed. Here, everything was possible.
In the dim light, Kath’s face was all shadows. She was close enough now that Lily could smell the faint trace of mint on her breath, and the light, warm scent of her skin. She brushed her nose against Kath’s neck, and she wanted to bottle up the fragrance of her. She felt Kath’s pulse beneath her lips, and Kath’s hand cupping the back of her head, and at last, Kath’s mouth touching hers.
It was still a shock to feel it: the connection between their bodies, as if it had risen from the marrow of her bones, thick and charged and sweet. Before, she had been afraid of being discovered and afraid of discovering herself, but the more they kissed, the less afraid she felt, until her fear was subsumed beneath much more powerful feelings.
She wanted to touch Kath’s skin. She tugged the hem of Kath’s blouse out from her skirt and slid her hands beneath it, and finally she felt the warm skin of her back, and the quiver of Kath’s body as she touched her. Kath drew back briefly and reached for the buttons of Lily’s blouse, asking, “Can I?” Lily helped her unbutton it, and then Kath put her hand on the bare skin of Lily’s waist, and Lily closed her eyes. Kath’s hand slid up over her ribs and cupped the curve of her breast, and her thumb trailed electrically over the outline of Lily’s nipple through her bra. And then she pushed her leg between Lily’s thighs, and Lily gasped at how it felt—the pressure and the movement there—and it was exactly what she wanted. She was astonished by the way this worked between them so instinctively, as if they had been made to do this together.