and passing it to someone else

without touching it

with your hands.

And?

she says.

And,

I say,

if you want to kiss

that person you’re passing the card

to, you just let it drop.

My face is still

red but Mari seems

too busy to notice.

Sounds like a good one,

she says.

Better than spin the bottle.

For a moment

I imagine me

and Alex.

Me and Alex.

Just a playing card

separating us.

Would I feel

the warmth of his lips

through that bit of

cardboard?

The thought is too much.

I better go,

I say.

I best be alone with

my thoughts

so Mari doesn’t

see me

all embarrassed and ask

what I’m thinking.

She expects me to be

with Jace Nelson.

And I can’t tell her

that seeing Alex

makes my heart thrum.

96.

Wouldn’t you know it?

Mari says,

when I get to her house

the next day.

Know what?

I say.

I can hear the party going

on in the back by the pool.

My first boy-girl party.

My hands sweat.

Is everybody here?

Yes,

she says.

Then Mari grabs me by the arm.

Guess what?

I started my period this afternoon

after we finished

decorating.

Oooh sorry,

I say,

meaning it.

Can you believe my luck?

she says.

Well, we didn’t plan any swimming,

I say.

Just dancing by the pool.

I walk slow with my friend,

feeling sorry for her

and glad that it’s not me

in her situation.

Outside, evening is coming full-on,

the sun sinking fast,

casting last bits of light at us.

AFI’s newest album

plays from the stereo.

Mari and I walk out and I see

everyone in two groups.

The boys near the food.

The girls near the CD player.

None of this boy-girl

separating thing,

Mari says

in a loud voice.

Let’s play spin the bottle.

A few people groan,

but they all look interested.

Mari arranges us in a circle.

Cathy Simmons and her sister

Jennifer giggle together until

Mari sticks Alex Cain

in between them.

She puts me and Jace Nelson

together, then Robbie Thorne.

Standing there in the circle,

like the center of a flower,

the party not even going on,

she motions to Jeff Ingold

and Laurel Stowe,

and last of all,

Bryan McGuire.

Mari holds out her arms

and then like maybe she’s

announcing the Olympics

she says,

Let the party begin.

And laughs.

Robbie grins as Mari

comes to sit by him.

Then he says,

pointing crotch level on her,

Lookit right there.

Robbie is from Georgia

and his accent is thicker

than good cream.

What?

Mari says.

In the half-light

I see her face go blotchy red.

Lookit right there, Mari,

Robbie says pointing again,

crotch level.

Oh my gosh,

I think,

does he know she’s on her period?

Does he see something?

My face begins to color too,

as everyone quiets down.

AFI stops singing

and everyone

everyone

looks at Mari.

There’s silence

until an old Green Day song