Truth or Dare?

I was a shy, nerdy girl, the kind that easily won spelling bee championships without studying. My brain seemed to develop faster than my body. As far as boobs were concerned, I was as flat as a proverbial ironing board. (I’m still pretty small in that department, always wishing I had more.)



Brandy, on the other hand, was fully developed by the time she was 12. Shapely and busty, she was taller than a lot of the boys she hung out with. They liked her because she was the best athlete in the school, and she ran as fast and as hard as the boys, often beating them at their sport.



I, on the other hand, knew nothing about that subject. I came in last place in every run and was always the last one to get picked for a team. One time, during a game of basketball, the ball was accidentally thrown to me. Unfortunately, I couldn’t remember which was our side’s hoop. I thought a goal was a goal. I didn’t understand why my teammates were running after me, trying to block me from making the shot. Luckily, I’m not sporty, and I didn’t score for the opposite side.



In fact, the two times I’d ever redeemed myself in that arena, was when I’d caught a fly ball, by sheer dumb luck, since I’d closed my eyes, and somehow the ball coasted into my outstretched arms. I do remember how I was quite winded by the force of the softball, as if I was punched in the chest as the projectile hit.



The second time was when we were playing dodgeball. I was the last one standing, surrounded by a circle of those who were out. I could feel I was the center of every boy’s attention, but not for the reason I wanted. All were trying to hurl the ball as hard as they could, to tag me. For some reason, I could predict the shot’s trajectory, such that I could skirt just out of its way. I love to dance and had a natural sense of rhythm, and it felt as if I was dancing a tango with the ball. Unfortunately, to make things more exciting, they added a second sphere, which was two too much to keep track of.



Two-timing is not normally my style.



Anyway, I was in awe of my friend, Brandy, and I wished I were her. A tomboy with all the right curves, and all the right moves, she had the self-confidence that I lacked. Boys gravitated to her like a moth to a flame, but she didn’t seem to go steady with any of them. She liked keeping them at arms length, as they vied for her attention.



It was the summer of Brandy’s 13th birthday, and she invited me to her pool party at her condominium. She said Adam was going to be there, and she knew I had a crush on him.



Adam: Platinum blonde, blue eyes, was a soccer player with brains. When he smiled, his eyes twinkled. He’d always aced every test, yet he never studied for them. He knew how to program a computer, and as far as I was concerned, he was the smartest boy I’d met in the 12 years I’d been alive. Even to this day, I still have a quirky memory of him, that he ate Meyer lemons whole, the way you eat a ripe, sweet apple, peel and all. I often brought him some from our garden because I was fascinated watching him nonchalantly eat such a tart thing, without wincing.



Adam had a best friend in our class called Jon, the kind of boy who looked like he’d grow up to be an all-American surfer or living in Los Angeles as a model. He had sandy blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, and a slim, athletic build of a soccer player. Every girl in our class had a crush on him, except me. Jon was friendly and happy enough, but he was dull, often asking me for answers to tests or to copy my homework assignments that he was unprepared for. Because he and Adam shared the boy scouts' sign language, they could cheat on tests, undetected, signing to each other in secret under their desks. Actually, it was mainly Jon who needed help. I witnessed this because I sat between them. I never said anything because I liked Adam, and I didn’t want him to get in trouble with our 7th grade teacher, Mr. Jardine.



Brandy badgered me to go to her party, said that it would be crazy, and that we’d play lots of fun games. I didn’t feel I had a bathing suit-worthy body, so I decided to go to the party, but not to go swimming. Plus, the only one I owned was an uncool, one-piece wonder with a Minnie Mouse design on it. Brandy wore a white bikini, and though she was my age, her body screamed 13 going on 21.



There were others that were invited: Jeff, Owen, and Yvonne. Everyone in the pool was having a great time, other than for Yvonne and myself. Yvonne was a Swedish goddess, blonde, blue eyed, and at least 6” taller than every boy in our class. She was built like a tank, and was the second best girl athlete and one of Brandy’s best friends. The only reason she wasn’t in the pool was because she was on her period.



Yvonne and I stationed ourselves next to the food table, munching on stale potato chips and drinking lots of bright pink fruit punch that comes out of a plastic gallon jug. The dinner menu was boiled hot dogs on a bun with a scoop of cold potato salad on the side. I don’t remember there being a cake, nor of us singing “Happy Birthday” to Brandy. Perhaps, thirteen year olds didn’t do that anymore. I was also surprised that there were no adults at this party, not even her mother. I know that I would have wanted my mom to help cater any party of mine.



I think I grew up quite sheltered, because after our dinner, I’d never heard of the game we were about to play, a game called Spin the Bottle. In case anyone is not familiar with this game, the variation we played was that a glass Coke bottle was spun on the floor, and to whomever it pointed, that person was “It” and had to accept a Truth or a Dare, of either answering a question truthfully, or accepting a dare. There were no other options. I don’t remember all the Truths that were asked, but the Dares mainly involved a lot of kissing.



So, when it was my turn, Brandy asked me what I wanted. The last boy I kissed was a boy named Peter in the 1st grade, and that was just on his cheek. I was too mortified to kiss anyone in public, so I opted for Truth.



Brady asked, “Do you like Adam?” I was shocked by her question. I thought she was my friend. How could she ask me that in front of him. I couldn’t lie to her, as she already knew the truth.



“Yes.” I answered, feeling like a cornered, wounded dog. From the look on Adam’s face, he was shocked & surprised. I’d never let on that I was interested. I was not his type.



Somehow, my turn kept coming up. Truth or Dare? What the hell, take the Dare. Maybe I’d get a chance to kiss Adam. But it never happened.



My friend, Brandy, kept daring me to kiss Jeff.



Jeff is a nice guy. Like me, a bit of a nerd, as smart as Adam in every way, except he wasn’t my type. He had wavy, light brown hair, light brown eyes, but with an average athletic ability. He also had a funny squeaky voice, and even at 12, I liked guys with deep voices.



My first kiss was from a boy I wasn’t remotely interested in. It's a good thing there wasn't any alcohol around. I drank a lot of luminous orange soda to wash the bad taste out of my mouth.



I noticed how Brandy was pairing people off: Yvonne was for Owen, she was for Adam, and I was invited, because I was meant for Jeff.



After kissing only Jeff for the third time that night, I felt set up, and decided it was time to go home.



Jeff & his family moved away after that summer. Avoiding Adam was almost impossible. He was as smart as I was, and every year, we had at least two or three classes in common, oftentimes, being assigned to sit next to each other. When school began again, I was so embarrassed that I couldn’t look him in the eyes. But, Adam was kind, and never spoke of what happened at the party. It was just a game to him.



I learned an ugly truth about friendship that night, which changed me forever. I never spoke to Brandy again.