children.’
He looked at me, astounded.
‘You have no idea what I’m talking about, have you? I want to be with you all the time. When I’m away from you I can only survive by blocking all thoughts of you from my mind. I work like a madman. You heard Papa about my report, I’m top of my year at virtually everything. I’m going to be top of my year for ever.’
I didn’t write to him at all the next term. In my last week he sent a little card which simply read ‘Thank You’.
That summer we seemed to be our old happy selves again. My mother sought in vain to arrange teenage parties. Children of friends came to stay. But Aston and I were only truly happy with each other. We were more like children than young adolescents. He dazzled me with his knowledge of mythological heroes and Greek gods. I impressed him with my skill at the piano.
When I started my new term in September I began to write to him again.
He replied immediately.
‘I think there is nothing in the world as terrible as Love. I need silence from you. I cannot bear it here otherwise. Aston.’
I didn’t write again. When I talked to my mother on the phone, and asked about Aston, she said, ‘Everything’s going to be all right. It’s just adolescence, darling. I remember my own.’
That Christmas, my body had almost settled into a shape that really hasn’t changed much since. I felt very different from the summer before, heavier, stronger. I was developing much faster than Aston. He was taller. But his face, though thinner and more angular, still seemed basically unaltered.
His first words to me were ‘Oh, Anna, Anna, how you have changed!’
He had tears in his eyes. He moved towards me slowly, awkwardly, as if he was wounded in some terrible way.
I began to feel ill-at-ease with him. Uncertain what behaviour was appropriate.
The first week seemed to pass in furtive glances, and nervous laughter, and dying conversations that never went anywhere.
My mother insisted on a Christmas party for ‘the young people’. Aston protested violently at the idea.
‘It’s a cliche, parties with dancing. You can’t force friendships. Leave us be.’
But she was determined.
‘You two are becoming positively reclusive. It’s just not healthy. You need friends. This is a lovely time in your lives. Anna keeps turning down invitations to parties, it’s ridiculous. As for you, Aston, you’re so unfriendly to everyone, you don’t get any. It’s time it all stopped. I’m having a Christmas party here. That’s that.’ The invitations went out to all the children of the right age that she knew in her circle. Not an enormous number, but enough.
Aston was impossible. He wouldn’t dress properly. He was barely civil to the guests.
I had a marvellous pink dress, I remember. I found I enjoyed the dancing and all the flattery, the looks, and the fumbling of the more daring boys.
Aston kept leaving the party. He kept disappearing then reappearing with a haunted look on his face.
He came to my room when the party had ended. He was weeping. ‘I know everything is about to change for ever. You are changing, Anna. We have had our last summer. I don’t think I like the world very much any more.’
He came into my bed, and we lay chastely side by side.
But young boys in their early teens cannot lie chaste for long, beside a female body. Suddenly he was erect. Such a little movement, such a fleeting caress and his semen was on my stomach. He wept. His tears ran down my breasts. I felt as though I had received some strange benediction. Semen and tears. They would always be symbols of the night for me.
The next day we kept a distance from each other. It seemed better that way. I had a date that evening. One of the boys from the party had asked me to a dinner dance.
My vanity and my new confidence made me dress carefully, in a white dress with a low neckline. Aston opened the door for me, with a mock bow of both contempt and anger.
When I returned, I sat
He looked at me, astounded.
‘You have no idea what I’m talking about, have you? I want to be with you all the time. When I’m away from you I can only survive by blocking all thoughts of you from my mind. I work like a madman. You heard Papa about my report, I’m top of my year at virtually everything. I’m going to be top of my year for ever.’
I didn’t write to him at all the next term. In my last week he sent a little card which simply read ‘Thank You’.
That summer we seemed to be our old happy selves again. My mother sought in vain to arrange teenage parties. Children of friends came to stay. But Aston and I were only truly happy with each other. We were more like children than young adolescents. He dazzled me with his knowledge of mythological heroes and Greek gods. I impressed him with my skill at the piano.
When I started my new term in September I began to write to him again.
He replied immediately.
‘I think there is nothing in the world as terrible as Love. I need silence from you. I cannot bear it here otherwise. Aston.’
I didn’t write again. When I talked to my mother on the phone, and asked about Aston, she said, ‘Everything’s going to be all right. It’s just adolescence, darling. I remember my own.’
That Christmas, my body had almost settled into a shape that really hasn’t changed much since. I felt very different from the summer before, heavier, stronger. I was developing much faster than Aston. He was taller. But his face, though thinner and more angular, still seemed basically unaltered.
His first words to me were ‘Oh, Anna, Anna, how you have changed!’
He had tears in his eyes. He moved towards me slowly, awkwardly, as if he was wounded in some terrible way.
I began to feel ill-at-ease with him. Uncertain what behaviour was appropriate.
The first week seemed to pass in furtive glances, and nervous laughter, and dying conversations that never went anywhere.
My mother insisted on a Christmas party for ‘the young people’. Aston protested violently at the idea.
‘It’s a cliche, parties with dancing. You can’t force friendships. Leave us be.’
But she was determined.
‘You two are becoming positively reclusive. It’s just not healthy. You need friends. This is a lovely time in your lives. Anna keeps turning down invitations to parties, it’s ridiculous. As for you, Aston, you’re so unfriendly to everyone, you don’t get any. It’s time it all stopped. I’m having a Christmas party here. That’s that.’ The invitations went out to all the children of the right age that she knew in her circle. Not an enormous number, but enough.
Aston was impossible. He wouldn’t dress properly. He was barely civil to the guests.
I had a marvellous pink dress, I remember. I found I enjoyed the dancing and all the flattery, the looks, and the fumbling of the more daring boys.
Aston kept leaving the party. He kept disappearing then reappearing with a haunted look on his face.
He came to my room when the party had ended. He was weeping. ‘I know everything is about to change for ever. You are changing, Anna. We have had our last summer. I don’t think I like the world very much any more.’
He came into my bed, and we lay chastely side by side.
But young boys in their early teens cannot lie chaste for long, beside a female body. Suddenly he was erect. Such a little movement, such a fleeting caress and his semen was on my stomach. He wept. His tears ran down my breasts. I felt as though I had received some strange benediction. Semen and tears. They would always be symbols of the night for me.
The next day we kept a distance from each other. It seemed better that way. I had a date that evening. One of the boys from the party had asked me to a dinner dance.
My vanity and my new confidence made me dress carefully, in a white dress with a low neckline. Aston opened the door for me, with a mock bow of both contempt and anger.
When I returned, I sat
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