Kinley and Percival sit on the floor in front of me, Brodie pulls up a chair, and Peter leans coolly against a beam, watching closely.
“Well.” Brodie waves his hand impatiently. “Tell us about it then.”
“Uh…” I grimace. “No.”
“You must!” Percival cries, horrified.
“Yes!” Kinley.
“Wendy used to tell Peter stories,” Percival offers. “Perhaps you could tell us a story about sex so we understand it.”
And then a little burst of laughter escapes me, and I clap my hands over my mouth to contain it, but the damage is already done. That sweet little Percival sits at my feet looking a little bit rejected, what with being laughed at by an older woman and all, so I give him a sweet smile.
“Sorry.” I give him another smile. “I don’t mean to laugh. It’s just—”
Peter gives me a suspicious look. “What’s so funny, girl?”
“Nothing.” I shake my head, not wanting to drum on Percival’s discomfort.
Peter leaps in the air and glides over, standing awfully close to my face, peering at me.
“She doesn’t know,” he announces.
I roll my eyes at him. “I do too.”
He gives me a spiteful look that’s mostly all eyebrows. “Prove it.”
I don’t like being challenged by anyone; it’s a weakness of mine, I’ll readily admit. But a particular weakness I have is when I’m challenged by a man. I didn’t grow up around too many, just my grandfather, you see? And he was one of those men who believed women were the superior of the sexes, that the sun rose and set purely for the honour to shine on my grandmother’s face.
I’m bullheaded, Grandmother Mary says. And I’m used to being the cleverest person in the room, so any time that’s contested, I take issue with it.
“Fine,” I tell him, nose in the air.
Probably pertinent to point out here that I’ve never had sex.
ot yet. I’ve been presented with the opportunity a couple of times. I’ve just never felt like I wanted to, so I’m not overly qualified to give this lesson, but I take a big breath and give it a crack anyway.
I purse my lips.
How do you explain sex to boys who’ve never really seen or known romance, in a world without Marilyn Monroe or Sophia Loren.
“Okay,” I start, grimacing already. “Well, have you ever spent time with someone, a girl—or a boy!” I add as an urgent afterthought. “I’m not judgm—I don’t—You may like who you li—” They’re all looking at me blankly, and Peter’s frowning. “Never mind.” I shake my head. I breathe out. “Um, so sometimes, if you’ve been spending time with someone, and you like spending time with them, and then sometimes when you see them, you get this feeling in your stomach, that’s sort of like…being…erm…kicked?”
“What?” Percival frowns.
“But it’s not…all bad?”
Kinley shakes his head. “In my experience, being kicked is never good.”
“No, it’s not real kicking. It’s—” I shake my head. “The feelings. It’s just feelings—and it’s a weird feeling, but sort of good?”
“I know what you mean.” Peter nods, thinking to himself. “I get that feeling with you.” He shrugs like he’s told me the weather.
I breathe in the fullness of that comment. I’d quite like to roll around in it, relish the moment, but then he keeps talking.
“Is that sex?” Peter asks pleasantly. “Is that what we’re doing?”
“Aye.” Percival nods wisely.
I clap my hand over my mouth because it’s all I can do not to laugh.
“Sounds boring,” Kinley says, looking at me suspiciously.
“Look, no.” I sigh. “Sex is not boring. Usually. Though, I suppose it could be.”
“I hate boring things.” Peter shakes his head.
“Me too.” Brodie nods.
“It’s not boring!” I growl as I shake my head, impatient. “Listen…um…have you ever…” I rack my brain. “Kissed anyone before?”
“Kissed anyone?” Kinley frowns.
“Yes!” I roll my eyes. “Kissed! Like…” I peck the back of my hand.
“Oh!” Brodie nods. “You mean thimbles.”
“Yes!” I point at him triumphantly, remembering that faux pas my grandmother made. “Have you ever ‘thimbled’ someone?”