By seventh grade, I knew that I liked Sam. That was a dangerous time. Luckily we were in different schools by that point, so I didn't have to see him every day. I pretended to be embarrassed when my friends drew hearts around my name and Sam's in the parking lot dirt while we waited to be picked up. When each of us drew up our top-ten lists of dream dates, I was careful to put Sam somewhere in the middle. ("Sam? He's a good guy, sure, but he's practically a brother," I'd shrug nonchalantly.)

We played our first game of spin the bottle sometime that spring. It was a rainy day, and I'd ridden my bike through the woods with Sam and my brother Harry and my friend Julie to Wendy Harding's house. We left our bikes under a tree and came into the kitchen where my sister, Maggie, and Wendy were eating potato chips and reading magazines. Wendy's brother was downstairs with the Johnson boys (David and Charlie) and Peter Goodwin, who lived next door. Somehow we all ended up in the playroom, sitting in a circle with Wendy explaining the rules. She told us she'd played the game a lot at camp, but I knew that was a lie and that really she and Maggie were both wild about Peter.

Wendy took control of the bottle and spun it once for practice. When the open end faced Peter, she said, that since everyone seemed to understand, they could go ahead and practice the whole thing. You had go in the closet and shut the door, Wendy said, and you had to kiss on the lips. You had to stay in the closet for at least a minute, but no longer than three. And you had to go in the closet with whoever the bottle pointed to, unless it was a brother or sister and then you could spin again. I watched nervously as she took Peter's hand and led him to the closet at the other end of the big room where her parents kept the board games, the vacuum cleaner, and lots of winter coats that smelled like moth balls. When they finally emerged (my sister called out the time in three-minute intervals), Wendy looked as if she were returning from paradise, and Peter, handsome Peter, looked quite happy himself.

Peter spun next and got me. Everyone whooped. I felt golden. He helped me up and led me gallantly across the wood floor and guided me to the closet, over the shoes and boots on the floor. He pulled the door shut and showed me how he and Wendy had made a little bench by putting coats and an old sleeping bag on top of one another, and he let me try the right side and then the left side to decide which was more comfortable. It was mostly dark though there was a crack of light at the bottom that helped me see as we changed places. Once settled, he sat back, leaning against the wall, and exhaled slowly. I felt panicked. I could hear my sister counting off the seconds. I shifted nervously, and Peter leaned close enough so that I could see him smile kindly.

"I'm tired," he said, moving forward and pecking me on the lips. I heard a loud "That's one minute!" and saw Peter reach and slide the door open. He helped me out of the closet, and we walked slowly back to the circle. I was sure that I glowed like Lesley Ann Warren, who played Cinderella in the television version that Maggie and I loved.

My sister, looking relieved that Peter was now out of the action, reminded me to spin, which I did so quickly and nervously that the bottle spun out of the middle of the circle, careening into Sam's leg. I was mortified, having hoped to land one of the innocuous Johnson brothers. But Sam leapt up, accompanied by low hoots and hollers and walked quickly ahead of me to the closet, where he made a point of shutting the door before I arrived. Everyone laughed. I was so embarrassed and mad that when Sam opened the door with a big smile, I pushed him aside, stepped in, and pulled the door behind me.

"Hey," I said, nervous in the hot darkness, "sit down."

"Why?" he whispered, pushing the coats that were still hanging as far back on the rod as they could go, giving him more space. "Maybe we could play a game."

"We are playing a game," I reminded him. We heard the countdown continue outside. My face felt red.

A male voice asked, "How come it's so quiet in there, you two? Need directions?" I heard everyone laugh. Sam started moaning and making load smooching sounds.

"Come on," I whispered in annoyance. Suddenly he grabbed my waist, put his hand over my mouth and pretended a dramatic kiss while sliding the door open. Everyone else seemed to love it. I pushed out of his arms, out of the closet, and back across the room to the circle moving as far away from him as possible.

"You go now, Sam," Wendy directed. Sam's bottle twirled perfectly and stopped gracefully on Julie. Sam helped her up and led her to the closet ("I'm a pro," I heard him say), where he gently pulled the door shut behind him. This time there was no noise, and when they emerged after the full three minutes, they both looked a little rumpled and quite satisfied. Sam didn't make my top-ten list for at least a year after that.


© 1999 Harvard Summer School. Comments.
Last modified Fri, Jan 21, 2000.
[spacer]