I was inspired by some of the gals at writers group who have written stories of their childhood or adolescence. Here is my contribution. A chapter from my own coming of age story:
Rob had curly hair and a prominent nose. He had a big smile too. I also remember his hands how huge and strong they felt when they threw me off the dock at the lake. You know that statue of David? He looked just like that only shorter...and tan. He had a great tan. For some adolescent reason, it was my pleasure to insult Rob. He must have been a glutton for punishment, because he asked me out on a date one Summer evening. Frankly, I was shocked. Out of that dangerous combination of confusion and boredom that comes with being 17, I said "yes."
Rob drove a 1967 Buick Gran Sport Coupe. It was a large, powerful car. Everyone called it the green machine. Inside the green machine, I felt very small. I slid into a kind of private panic. I knew I was in over my head. My banter was weak. The engine rumbled almost drowning the sound of the gravel as we prowled slowly though the drive-in in search of the perfect parking spot. I thought we were pretty far away from the screen, but I didn't say anything. I sat with the seat belt secured across my lap while he went for popcorn and soda. The movie had no discernible dialogue which made me wonder about Rob's IQ. It turns out he had not chosen the drive-in theater for what was playing, but rather for what he wanted to play. He put his arm around me and moved closer. I unbuckled so I could scootch to my right, pretending to be engrossed by Quest for Fire. He did it again. I did it again. Again. Again. Eventually, I was up against the door, his big nose was hard against mine. His teeth, which were so beautiful when he smiled, seemed hungry now just behind his lips. In a panic and unable to speak, I opened the door and fell
out of the car. He got out on his side, and ran over to help me up off of the gravel, asking if I was okay. His brown eyes were kind as they looked into mine. Then he took me home.