15 Year Old Girl

I consider the summer before I turned 16 to be one of the most pivotal times in my life. I was finished my second year of high school and had a settled into a group of friends that I really clicked with ( including my best friend “Spike”) and my first really boyfriend “K”. I spent the summer with Spike and K and K’s best friend J (yes the same J that worries about me.) Spike was 15 the same as me and J and K were both 19.

K was a farm boy (no this is not the beginning of The Princess Bride), a good man with dark hair, blue eyes. A hard worker and sweet guy who was at times a bit goofy, but mostly I liked that. And J he was trouble, he had a mischievous smile and a twinkle in his eyes that told you, stick with me and you will have a good time. Together they were quite a team.

Spike was a force of nature, self assured and straight forward she carried herself with a poise and determination that was unknown to me at fifteen. She was sprite like, a petite girl with big brown eyes and a button nose; she had boys eating out of her hands most places she went. She was in charge of her life and I was glad I got to be there for the party.

The four of us had great times that summer, playing on the beach, drinking beer and hoping we didn’t get caught when we got home (or at least Spike and I did), driving around listening to music in J’s great car or K’s pick up, making out right up until the minute of my curfew, running the bases at a ball diamond at midnight because we thought it was funny … you know all the things you do when you are on the cusp of becoming an adult.

I can’t tell all the stories from the summer it would just take too long, and really it would probably be boring to everyone but me, but I think this one is worthy of a retelling.

My parents were away for a few days towards the end of June with my little brother and I was sent off to Spike’s house in the country as I was too young to stay home alone. There was a high school dance on the Friday – the last one of the year – and Spike and I convinced her dad to drop us off on my front porch, instead of at the dance, as we were going to meet up with friends and my porch was a good central location.

All the doors to the house had been locked when my parents left and I wasn’t given a key, so the day before I was sent off to Spike’s house I went into the basement and cracked open one of the basement windows just wide enough to get one finger in. Once Spike’s dad drove off we made our way to the back of the house, opened the window the rest of the way and made our way in through the basement to through a pre party for the dance. We opened the liquor cabinet (not that dangerous as my parents are beer drinkers and never know how much liquor they have) and poured drinks for ourselves to celebrate our victorious B&E.

It didn’t take long for people to show up, drinks in hand to have a few cocktails to celebrate the end of another school year. There were about 25 people in total standing around listening to music drinking Bacardi breezers and other terrible concoctions stolen from their parents, or bought by older brothers and sisters. After an hour or so we all decided to make our way to the dance. Spike and I got everyone out of the house, put back the less full vodka and rum bottles, locked all the doors, closed the basement window – I would hate to think there could have been intruders –and went off to the dance.

It was thrilling to be “bad” as we did it so rarely. It was also fun to know that we had committed “the perfect crime.” Neither set of parents knew our deception, we left no evidence and we managed to get a little drunk all of which gave us both a thrill. The dance was great. J, Spike and I danced to Brown Eyed Girl, K and I slow danced for the very first time and at the end of the night Spike and I replayed our whole night as we drifted off to sleep.

My parents never found out (Hi Lady!) but I know that by the time we hit university Spike and I confessed our sins– as we always did – with little to no consequences. Just a laugh and a roll of the eyes was all we usually got, especially when we confessed two or three years after the fact.

It is a very innocent beginning to Keeping the Dream Alive but we all have to start somewhere.

Forever 15,

The Single Girl