Where did my cherry go&;#063;

I could feel the sun on my face, creeping in between the curtains,
o.k, that's enough staying in, I think I've pulled my weight around the
house. I sensed Michaela, barefoot in her nightie, holding a sugar
sandwich, skipping along our street like she always does at the crack
of dawn. Her mum doesn't seem to mind.

She lives next door to us with her mum and three male lodgers. They
always wake me up when they pull up on their motorbikes. When its a hot
summers day, they sit in the garden, smoking pot with their grass
snakes adorned around their necks. I held one once.

My mum doesn't really like me talking to them, but what she doesn't
know won't hurt her. One day, me and Michaela clambered over the fence
at the back of her garden, into the woodlands. Some of the chicken's
had escaped and it was dead funny to see Michaela trying to catch them,
they were darting about all over the shot. I actually managed to corner
one of them, my proudest moment.

So, there we were, live chicken in my arms, sprinting back to my house
to show everyone. As soon as I burst into the kitchen, my mum dropped
her plates, screamed and scrambled onto the kitchen table. Jesus, did I
get into trouble. Bird phobia, I guess.

Come to think of it the woodlands was a strange place, it holds a lot
of childhood secrets.

Old mr Ridger and his mountain of used syringes, I still haven't worked
out what they were for. Me &; Tiny (My Sis) were messing about one
day, pretending that we were warriors about to conquer undiscovered
territory, when we stumbled upon them. Before we had the chance to pick
them up, Mr Ridger ran out of his gardening shed with a glistening
dagger, shouting obscene words at us, that was a scary moment, at least
Michaela's backyard was easily accessible.

The trees also played an important part in our free time. Trees for
climbing, for hiding and for discovering.

Andrew lived down the street. The first time I met him, I was tying up
my shoelaces and he was hiding behing the hedgerow watching me. I
spotted him and we walked around the hedgerow in an endless circle,
mesmerized, terrified and transformed. He became my teacher and lover
instantly.

He was sixteen and I was eleven. In the summer, me, Andrew, Tiny and
Rebecca (His Sis), used to play in the woodlands. Once he hid from us,
calling our names, we stood under the majestic oak tree with our heads
turning in every direction. It was not until we looked upwards that we
felt his scalding, salty piss spraying onto our faces and running down
our necks. Sod!

I was baptized as the bluebell queen. Andrew did it. I had just come
back from gymnastics, I was in the Junior's county squad. Andrew was
waiting for me behind the fence. We walked hand in hand to the oak tree
and sat playing with acorns and rubbing dirt into our bare feet. He
asked me to run home and take off my dungarees because I still had my
leotard on underneath. So I did. I raced back, feeling anxious, guilty
and excited all at the same time.

Strap by strap, he undid my dungarees which fell to the ground,
delicately. My golden blonde hair draped over my shoulders covering my
underdeveloped breasts and my hand remained coyly placed over my secret
place. When he finished undressing, I stared at his ugly, intimidating
serpent with a lump in my throat. We walked to the base of the oak
tree, where we sat next to a mound of picked bluebells, which he had
collected earlier. One by one he covered every inch of my body and hair
with them. "You're my bluebell queen"

And amidst the bluebells, we probed and we tasted nature. But I could
never tell anyone that I lost my virginity at eleven, I guess no one
would understand.