Where the Kissing Never Stops by Ron Koertge

mean is that everybody knew that Rachel and I liked each other. When I found her in the hall, she was talking to a bunch of kids, and they just melted away like ice on an iron. Only Sully stayed, but he was my best friend, so that was okay. The rules are complicated, but everybody knows them. Even Rachel, and she hadn’t been at my school for more than two weeks. It must be somewhere in the gene pool or the DNA. Someday some scientist is going to discover it under his ultrapowerful microscope, a micro-teensy pamphlet right there in the smallest nucleus of the smallest atom:
How to Act in High School.
    “Walker,” she said, shaking her head in mild exasperation. “Look at your hands.”
    They were a little dirty in places. “I guess I was in a hurry.”
    Rachel shifted her enormous bag with her initials sewn on it, came up with a perfumed towelette wrapped in foil, and began to rub at my fingers and palms. “You’re worse than my father,” she said happily.
    Sully said he had to take a test. We watched him walk away. Rachel turned to me, smiling.
    “What happened to your eyes?” I asked. “They’re green today.”
    One hand went up to cover them, like a little girl who was “it” and counting to a hundred.
    “I’ve got these different-colored contacts, is all; I change to match my outfits.”
    “You wear glasses?”
    “Does it matter?”
    “Well, I just didn’t know the girl I like can’t see her feet without prescription lenses.”
    “I was pretty sure you liked me,” she said softly.
    “I thought about you a lot while I was plowing this morning. It’s magical out there, Rachel. I’m just all by myself, and when the sun comes up, it’s like it’s for only me. Except that I wish you were there.”
    “On your tractor?”
    “I know our language is new to you, but in Bradleyville we call it a lap.”
    She blushed and looked delighted.
    “Let’s go out tonight, okay?”
    “Walker, these accelerated classes are killing me. How about Friday?”
    “Gee,” I said seriously. “I’m busy Friday.” I meant it as a joke but she looked so disappointed I couldn’t finish. “No, I’m not. I was just kidding. Friday’s fine.”
    “Really? You aren’t just saying that?”
    Rachel was wearing an enormous cardigan. Somehow when she leaned toward me, one of the books she held against her chest slipped down into it.
    “Oh, God. There goes
The Great Gatsby.
”
    She lifted one leg gracefully, trying to shift the other books back into a stack.
    “Could you… ?” She gestured with her head toward her chest. “It’s in there somewhere.”
    Gingerly I put my hand inside. I could feel some ribs. Under her blouse her body was warm and firm.
    “Down more, I think.”
    “You city girls are shameless.”
    “Did you find it?” she whispered.
    We were very close together and my blood was starting to percolate.
    “Unfortunately.”
    She stepped back, flushed. “If you really are busy,” she said, “don’t change any —”
    “I’m not. And Mom said I could have the car for things that were really important.”
    “It would be okay if you were.”
    “I know.”
    “Really.”
    “I believe you,” I said firmly.
    “So we’ll call each other about Friday? I have to do about a million things with my dad, so just leave a message on the machine.”
    “I liked finding your book for you.”
    She grinned at me. “I’ve got a whole library at home,” she said. “Bye.”
    Gym was the last class of the day, and I hung around afterward watching Tommy Thompson and his friends play a little pick-up game of basketball.
    I knew most of those guys smoked and drank beer like crazy, but they still looked great. There were a lot of girls standing around talking, leaning toward one another as they whispered, looking out at the polished floor, leaning again, their hair falling together. Boy, sometimes I stand in front of the mirror naked and just hate my body. I don’t seem to understand it at all. I feel like