The dirty girl.

The first time I met Mandy in person, I was helping my friend Sam deliver newspapers. It was fall and we had just started eighth grade. The summer prior, I had heard a lot about this girl. She lived blocks – and thus a world – away from me. Sam had dated her most of July and August after one of our other friends was through with her. Both had lost their virginity to Mandy. This, coupled with the fact that she was about to enter high school, made her a legend in my circle of friends.

I had listened to many a story about this girl and her impure deeds. She lived with only her mother who worked two jobs. This ensured plenty of unsupervised time at the Whitney household. Her boyfriends could come and go as they pleased and bring with them whomever. They’d all watch tv, smoke cigarettes, drink a shot or two, and eventually, Mandy and her lucky boy would be on top of one another. And, more often than not, right in front of whomever happened to be there.

Oh, and to be fair, it should be noted that Mandy was completely crazy. Seriously, what 14-year-old female has crotch-less underwear? The amount of freedom she had at such a young age would do that to anyone. It didn’t help that she had no sibling to share it all with. So she was known to throw fits – as well as lamps, chairs, knives, and Coke bottles – regularly. But the promise of food, tv, and sex was enough to keep the young boys coming back.

Sam had one of those paper routes that didn’t have a ton of houses, but they were spread out. This meant he made little money and daily delivery took at least 18 hours. So it was surprising that he always wanted help – and offered to pay $5 and a soda from a gas station on his route per day for it. I guess he was just lonely on those lonely afternoons.

After our third street, Mandy was waiting for us on the corner. She had followed Sam most of the summer on this route, waiting for him to finish so they could return to their nest. She was here today to return a watch Sam had left at her house. Their parting was his doing, as he just couldn’t take her “weirdness” anymore, as he put it. A 14-year-old girl with daddy issues is much too much for a 13-year-old boy, even if he is getting his first taste of sex.

Even after hearing every last tale about this girl, I was still curious. If anything, the stories only encouraged me to find out more. What was this unsupervised house all about? What was her sex all about? With Sam out of the way, I was free to make my move and find out.

Mandy and Sam exchanged stiff “heys” and then she turned over the watch. Her eyes caught mine and I smiled. She stared blankly back at me. But as she walked away in her tight pants and shiny fall jacket, I caught her looking over her shoulder to get another look at me.

A half hour after I returned home, Sam was on my phone. As I sat in my yellow kitchen, I listened how this girl I had been in the presence of for a total of thirty seconds wanted me to come over. I excitedly asked her address. My hand shook as I hung of the phone. I had no idea what I was getting into. And that was the most exciting of all.

Thirteen may be the strangest of all ages for boys. (I can only speak for my gender, though I’d guess it’s the same for females.) Middle school is fading, but high school seems light years away. Toys are meaningless and professional sports are still boring. Boys think they’re interested in girls, yet they’d have no idea what to do with them if they got the opportunity. It took a girl like Mandy to lead me by the hand and show me the way.

I left my house a little before 6:30. It was already getting dark outside. The wind blew leaves all around me as I speed-walked to my destination. All I could think about was her naked body and what I might do to it. I laughed to myself in a nervous sort of way and quickened my step. When she came to the door, she smiled wildly, almost ravenous, and let me in.

The room was dark and brown. Brown, tattered couches, dark brown paneling, brown end tables with random stains on them. Our small talk consisted mainly of stories about Sam. It was awkward, which was to be expected, as we had just met hours earlier. However, in no time at all, we were playfully wrestling and she landed a kiss on my lips. Not long after that, she put her tongue in my mouth.

This was completely new to me. Something I had heard plenty about, but never actually experienced. It was enjoyable and terrifying all at the same time. I thought for sure intercourse was next.

Suddenly, as I kissed her, I thought of my mother. She had made pork chops for dinner that evening. She wasn’t a very good cook, but she certainly tried. And her chops were greasy and acceptable. Over dinner, she had asked me how my day was, if I had thought about which high school I was to attend, and if I had any homework. She was a wonderful mother. Kind, loving, and always warm. And here was her 13-year-old son about to take his clothes off with a girl he had met that afternoon. She didn’t deserve that.

From there, my mind wandered to me. Sure, I was curious about girl parts, but I still hadn’t figured out my own. I had no right doing this. I had no right being here.

I stopped and turned my head like a child refusing to eat broccoli. She asked what was wrong and grabbed at my crotch. I leaped up and tried to say something as I headed toward the door, but I’m pretty sure nothing came out.

I made it home twice as fast as I had made it to Mandy’s. My mom was clipping coupons on the couch and watching syndicated tv. She asked where I had been and then told me I needed to take a shower. When I was through, I found wrestling on my tv. It was the single most enjoyable hour of my life thus far. I was still a boy, and it was wonderful.

Mandy and I had a couple of episodes after that. Nothing ever more serious than kissing. I realized first hand how crazy she was, and she realized I had a few morals. The last time I talked to her, I was in high school. She called and asked me to the movies “as friends.” I laughed and hung up the phone.